While the girls continued their dispute over who did or didn't know their magical nuances, I finished the diagnostics on the remaining wizards. The clearest and simplest results came from the one who'd been issuing orders during the incursion — he'd simply taken some damage in the fight, had a couple of old injuries, and an upset stomach. That last piece of information was, naturally, of incalculable value to me. Whatever would I do without it.
"Find out anything?" Mrs Anderson had been standing beside me the whole time, watching my work while everyone else busied themselves with one thing or another.
"Hmm… My acquaintance there, and this one," I indicated the second 'assault trooper' — I'd taken to calling them that — "are both very strange. Their leader, the one giving orders — he's an entirely ordinary wizard who doesn't pay enough attention to the quality of his food."
"Quality of his food?"
"Other than the upset stomach, there was nothing else to go on," I said, shrugging.
"And why did you decide to run a medical diagnostic in the first place?"
"Well, what else? One has to know under what conditions to hold detainees, and which methods of loosening their tongues won't send them prematurely to the other side."
Mrs Anderson was visibly taken aback by my answer, and gave a slow shake of her head.
"They didn't raise boys quite this hard at Hogwarts in my day. Have things really changed so much?"
"Oh, not at all," I said, dismissing the idea with a light smile. "This is just me personally."
"I'm not sure whether to consider that a good thing," Mrs Anderson mused for a moment, but then gave an approving smile and nod. "Well. In the wizarding world, those aren't bad qualities to have."
"By the way," the girls had stopped arguing, and Daphne came to stand with me while Hermione drifted towards my father and Mr Anderson, who were no longer actively participating in proceedings and were standing a little apart, rifles in hand, more out of form than anything. "What if they're some kind of Auror team?"
"You mean — will someone come looking when they don't return?" I turned to Daphne and saw a flicker of genuine concern in her eyes. "In any case, I've recalibrated the beacon — it'll now Apparate anyone who uses it a couple of kilometres above the sea."
"Even though it's still physically here?"
"Yes."
"And if they simply know where the team went and come here by other means?"
"Then we take the prisoners with us and sort it out from there."
"With us?" Daphne and Mrs Anderson said at almost exactly the same moment.
"Yes," I nodded. "I'm not going to get anywhere on my own with Romanova's condition — or the second one. I need a qualified specialist."
"You're hinting at Godfather?"
"Yes."
"He'll help, in principle. Though he might already be asleep, or on call. Which would also mean asleep," Daphne said with a slight smirk.
"Can you reach him?"
Daphne shook her head.
"We never quite sorted that out — Mum said to take a mirror, but I didn't."
"A mirror?"
"Yes. With the Protean Charm. Like your notebook, only a bit more complex."
"So what do we do?"
"If you don't mind, we could go to my house, get the mirror, contact him, and arrange things. We can decide from there where to put these ones," Daphne indicated these ones with a single glance — still bound, still unconscious, and that status wasn't going to change without Mrs Anderson's agreement any time soon.
"Right then. Let's get ready."
Daphne went quickly upstairs, and I, casting one last look around the hall, headed for the stairs as well.
"I'm coming with you," Hermione started to insist, but I shook my head.
"Stay with Mum, Dad, and the hosts. Just in case. It's not as if you spent nearly a year training in magic at our anonymous Defence Enthusiasts' club for nothing. We won't run into any trouble."
"Hmm. All right," Hermione said, accepting this.
Daphne and I were ready in ten minutes, and when we came downstairs at almost the same moment into the main hall, we found an interesting tableau. Dad and Mr Anderson had pulled a small table from somewhere, were sitting at it sharing a drink, faces entirely serious, rifles loaded and lying beside them. Mrs Anderson had declined to join them — she was monitoring the detainees, who lay as before against the wall at measured intervals from one another. She was monitoring them and talking to Hermione — both equally serious, and I didn't bother catching the subject.
"Right," I said as Daphne and I descended into the hall, drawing everyone's attention. "We're heading out. We'll be back soon enough — either with another wizard, or to collect these characters. Ready?"
The last was addressed to Daphne, who was dressed in a rather long blue dress and a black robe. I'd likewise changed into dark colours — trousers and a very thin roll-neck. Naturally, with a robe as well, and the ever-present rucksack over one shoulder.
"Of course."
I put my arm around her waist and extended the other outward. My black I-phoenix, enormous, shifted onto my arm in its singular magical fashion — appearing from a flash of black smoke — then immediately enveloped us in its wings and transported us by the same means into the hall of the Greengrass home.
With our arrival, the darkness of the empty night-time house began to dissolve — magical lanterns kindled themselves, their soft light quickly drawing out the details of the rich pale interior of the hall. Daphne was smiling at something, and noticing the silent question in my expression, she chose to explain:
"I caught their faces just as we left. You're certainly not lacking in flair."
A house-elf materialised before us in a crisp white pillowcase. She was rubbing her hands together with delight, ready to do absolutely anything she was told, as long as she could be told it right now.
"Mistress Daphne has returned! What joy! Tinky wants so very much to work."
Before Daphne could say a word, the house-elf, who in her joy had not yet noticed me, finally caught sight of me and did a small double-take.
"Oh! Mistress Daphne has brought a great wizard!"
"Listen to house-elves long enough and you'll start actually believing in yourself," I remarked.
"I'm back," Daphne nodded to the elf. "But only for a very short time. And Tinky — if you want to work, there's always the cleaning."
"Cleaning without being told to is so very boring…" The house-elf very nearly scuffed the floor with her foot, clasping her hands behind her back. "Oh, but how could I! Mistress Daphne and her guest must surely be hungry after their travels! Tinky will see to everything at once."
The elf vanished, which meant a very late supper was to be expected.
"You at least won't refuse food," Daphne said with a smile. "Do sit down…"
She indicated one of the armchairs in the hall.
"We are rather pressed for time. I'll just be a moment — upstairs and back."
Daphne set off towards the staircase at a brisk pace, very nearly breaking into a run, and I settled into the armchair she'd indicated. I waited. I thought. But not for long — Daphne reappeared on the staircase quite quickly, coming back down with a mirror in her hands and looking into it. From it I could make out the rather drowsy voice of Healer Smethwyck.
"…very well, very well, I'm putting on my robes and getting to the fireplace. Light it for me, princess, there's a good girl."
"Of course, Godfather."
Daphne came back to me.
"Godfather will be here in a minute."
"And the elf wanted to feed us."
"She'll be at it for at least another thirty minutes — I know her," Daphne said, with a slight tilt of her head. "We may well be done by then. Come on."
Daphne led me into the adjacent room — nearly empty, dominated by a large fireplace. Not truly empty, though: simply nothing extraneous, nothing out of place. Everything about it suggested the room served purely as a sort of antechamber designed around the realities of wizarding life.
Daphne stepped up to the fireplace and drew her wand, pointing it at the logs.
"Incendio."
A bright spark leapt from the tip of her wand, becoming a jet as it reached the logs. A moment later, the fire had caught. Daphne traced the tip of her wand along certain runes carved into the stonework and turned to face me.
"Done. We wait."
We stepped slightly aside. I was about to start a conversation — Daphne looked to be thinking the same — but the fireplace flames turned green. My wand found its way into my hand on instinct, but there was no emergency — out of the fire stepped Healer Smethwyck, in what was evidently not his professional attire. Something of a dim hybrid of everyday home clothing with a robe thrown over it all. His expression was still rather drowsy, his greying hair in a state of friendly disorder, and so on. In his right hand he carried a large, unmistakably medical bag.
"Daphne, my dear goddaughter," Smethwyck said with a smile. "Oh, and Mr Granger is here too. What an unexpected pleasure."
"Good evening, Healer," I said with a polite nod and a slight smile.
"Well then, restless ones — tell me what's happened."
Daphne and I gave Smethwyck a rapid account of the situation, speaking as precisely and to-the-point as possible. After which Smethwyck issued his commanding decision: he would work here, in this house. The patients — to the dungeon.
"Dungeon?" My right eyebrow curved nearly of its own accord in a manner rather reminiscent of Snape.
"Oh, don't let the name put you off," the Healer said, dismissing it. "I'm no stranger here — I have access everywhere. And the dungeons… well, practically every old family has enemies. And enemies need to be kept somewhere. A dungeon is simply a set of rooms in the cellar, perfectly suited to our purposes. They're ideal for holding wizards temporarily with no possibility of escape, and convenient for medical work too — dungeons are magically isolated, no interference, nothing of that sort. You were probably picturing some grim medieval cells, Mr Granger?"
"The thought did cross my mind," I admitted. "With an iron grille over a tiny high window, rough grey stone walls, a hole in the floor serving as a lavatory, and straw for a bed."
"You certainly have a gift for imagining the humiliation of prisoners," Smethwyck said with a smirk. "But no — the conditions are perfectly decent. Besides, many families use the cellars in their older homes not for prisoners at all any more, but for wizards who require particular care. Everything is quite comfortable. Though all freedom of movement — and indeed movement itself — can be removed quite literally in an instant."
"In that case — shall I bring the wizards here?"
"Yes. That won't take you long, I imagine."
My I-phoenix appeared, settling onto my outstretched arm, drawing intense interest from Smethwyck.
"A phoenix? That explains how you bypass the wards, Mr Granger. We'll wait."
My I-phoenix transported me back to the hall of the Anderson home. The situation there had not changed in the least. Mrs Anderson clearly had a great many questions about the bird, but was perfectly capable of reining in her curiosity. Hermione continued to 'monitor' things, and the male contingent continued in their solemn business of drinking, eating, and discussing something in grave tones.
"I'm taking them somewhere secure. It'll also rid the house of their presence."
"Is everything all right over there?" Hermione asked at once.
"Perfectly. We've arranged things with a Healer — he'll examine them, assess everything, and from the height of his experience decide what to do and how. And whether to do anything at all. I'll stay there until we've established whatever can be established. The important thing is that you keep the situation here under control."
I said nothing about the little spider currently moving through the house. If anything happened, I'd know about it at once and could be here in the same instant. If necessary.
One by one I transported the captured wizards to the fireplace room in the Greengrass home, while Smethwyck and Daphne settled them somewhere in the lower levels. When the process was complete, I went downstairs with them to see the 'dungeons.' Simply a row of separate rooms in a well-lit cellar. Solid, heavy doors. Small observation windows and hatch openings for passing food through. I didn't look inside the cells just yet.
"Will you need my help, Healer?"
"You're thinking to use the occasion for some practical training? I'm afraid this isn't quite the moment for it, Mr Granger. Finish your travels and your holiday first — then you'll come to me as an assistant at Mungo's. For now, enjoy the rest. You'll remember it with reverence, I promise you that. Besides, Tinky must have finished with supper by now. Go and eat, and get some rest."
"Roughly how long will the diagnosis take — and for results?" Daphne asked the question that was occupying me as well.
"If I do it properly, I'd say an hour per patient," Smethwyck said, thoughtfully.
"They're definitely not dangerous?"
"Concerned for your mentor, Mr Granger? Commendable, but unnecessary. I'm more than capable of defending myself should the need arise. Which it simply won't. Off you go."
Resigned to the fact that we'd been sent packing so as not to get in the specialist's way, Daphne and I went back upstairs to the hall, and from there into a small sitting room. A modest decorative fire — the non-travelling variety — was going in the hearth. The décor was slightly dark, wood-panelled, perhaps a touch sombre. A rug underfoot, a sofa, a pair of armchairs with a comfortable low table beside them. Naturally, we sat on the sofa, and Daphne immediately pressed herself closer, resting her head on my shoulder.
"This is nice," she said after a moment, eyes closing. "I wanted to ask something…"
"Yes?"
"You weren't fighting at full capacity back there. Why?"
"Didn't want to cause irreparable damage," I said, plainly. "I'm used to knowing everything about a situation and acting accordingly. There, I knew nothing. I made sure there was no chance of them beating me — but I didn't want to cause too much damage to potential sources of information."
"And the beacon — I'm certain you noticed it when it was planted."
"Yes."
"Hmm… You didn't say anything because you didn't know what Mrs Anderson might do?" Daphne tilted her head to look up at me with that particular expression of hers — the sly one. "She might have wanted to eliminate the threat at the root. And then you'd have been in the same position again — knowing nothing."
"You've studied me well," I said, with a faint smile, and leaned over to press a brief kiss wherever I could reach without excessive effort — which turned out to be the tip of her nose.
"You're simply a serpent pretending to be a badger. I've known that for a long time. And not just any snake — a basilisk."
"Why a basilisk?"
"Because your gaze stops the heart…"
Is it possible to resist committing a small foolishness in an atmosphere like that? Absolutely impossible.
In the quiet, one could clearly hear our breathing and the crackling of the fire in the hearth. The house-elf interrupted us with her arrival, magically setting out various dishes on the low table.
"Tinky has made everything. Tinky has done very well indeed," the elf declared with great confidence.
"Very well, very well," Daphne said, patting the delighted elf on the head, while I directed a small current of neutral magic towards the creature — sealing its happiness entirely.
The elf gave a cheerful series of nods to her own thoughts and vanished, and we turned our attention to the food. Judging by the speed at which Daphne was working through her plate, I wasn't the only one whose appetite had made itself known.
And yet — however pleasantly the evening might have ended — firstly, nothing was yet clear, and secondly… and secondly, there was no telling what might still be coming. But my feeling was that we'd know soon enough.
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