The weather here in Crawley was overcast despite it being morning, but we'd grown accustomed to that over the last few days in Italy — it had been much the same there, if marginally warmer. Still, our clothes felt somehow out of place. My phoenix-self spread his wings and swept back towards the Andersons' house, to follow the car invisibly and make sure everything went smoothly down to the last detail.
— Where's the phoenix gone? — Hermione asked immediately.
— To make sure Mum and Dad are all right. Right then, shall we see how the house is looking? Daphne, will you come with us?
— Of course, — she took my arm with a smile.
The house was only a short walk away, so we arrived quickly. No suspicious traces, no unfamiliar people, no magic. Everything as it had been. The wards were holding, no one had entered — I knew that for certain.
I took out the key and unlocked the door, letting the girls go in first. Dark. All the curtains were drawn and only a faint grey morning light crept in from the kitchen. Hermione switched on the hall light and the light in the corridor, while Daphne began looking around with interest.
— So, what do you make of a Muggle home? — Hermione said, watching Daphne.
— No fundamental differences so far, — Daphne shrugged, and added: — Even I've stopped calling ordinary people Muggles lately.
— What's wrong with it? — Hermione asked, heading into the sitting room while we followed.
— The word carries rather unpleasant connotations, — I said. — Whatever happened to your liberalism?
— Oh, don't be pedantic. I'm going to take my things up to my room.
Daphne drew her wand and made what was clearly a habitual gesture to clear away the dust — but nothing happened.
— Hm? — She was genuinely startled, and stared at her wand with something close to bafflement.
— Won't work, — I said, performing the simple action myself — there was quite a bit of dust, as it happened. — The wards around the house.
— Wards? That prevent spellcasting? — Daphne's bewilderment didn't diminish, but after a moment she shrugged, put her wand away, and sat down beside me. — Another surprise. The further we go, the more remarkable it all gets. I've never heard of such a ward system. And yet you can cast spells freely, as I see.
— Those who've been permitted to in advance can. And is it truly that unique a system? That does flatter my vanity somewhat.
Daphne smiled and rested her head on my shoulder. That had become something of a favourite habit of hers lately — finding one way or another to nestle against it.
— If I haven't heard of something, that doesn't mean it doesn't exist. You might consider patenting it, actually. Something new — particularly something like this — is a valuable asset for the future. A simple example: Potter presumably still receives royalty payments from the patent his ancestors held on a couple of cosmetic potions.
— Does he? — I said, genuinely surprised. — If he does, he doesn't seem to know it. He seems unaware of a great deal about his ancestry.
— Well, how would he know? — Daphne asked quietly. — He must have a guardian or someone similar. If there are sufficiently close relatives, godparents, or other persons entrusted by the family, no one is going to keep a young wizard informed about any of it.
— And if the trusted person abuses their position.
— Then they're a thoroughly bad trustee, — Daphne said with a small smirk. — You can't guard against everything. As Mother says — if you've placed your trust in a swindler, that is entirely your own fault.
— Your mother sounds delightful, — I said, putting my arm around Daphne. — On the subject of your parents, incidentally — how do you feel about going back? I mean, on the one hand, I don't think it right to sever ties, but on the other...
— On the other, — Daphne tilted her head to look at me with an arch smile, — you "abducted" me, and returning me now would be rather awkward, yes?
— Something like that, — I smiled and kissed her briefly.
— I'm quite happy to go and stay at home... — Daphne smiled at her own phrasing. — Strange as that sounds. Trust me, Father won't try anything unpredictable again — I've spoken with Mother and we've come to an arrangement.
— With your mother?
At that moment Hermione came downstairs.
— Lovebirds, does anyone want to eat? — my sister had already changed into something more appropriate for England — jeans, a t-shirt, and she had a light jacket draped over her arm. — We haven't had breakfast, after all.
— A wonderful thought, — Daphne and I said simultaneously.
Daphne rose from the sofa and, picking up her handbag, went to join Hermione.
— May I use your room to change?
— Yes, of course. Are the two of you planning to live here together now, by the way? — It was clear from Hermione's expression that a positive answer would earn us a lecture on why this was entirely inappropriate. Or at the very least, a brief moral commentary.
— Don't worry, — Daphne told her. — I don't mind going to stay with my parents. Even until Hogwarts.
— But didn't Hector abduct you?
— There's no need to take everything quite so literally. It was a final and unequivocal statement of his and my position.
Hermione shook her head.
— You're strange. And all of this is wrong. Right, I'm going to the shops.
I got up from the sofa and went to my sister, casting a glance after Daphne as she went up the stairs.
— Shall I come with you?
— I can manage a food shop on my own perfectly well. You've surely got a dozen things to be getting on with. Breakfast — or whatever time it is — won't be ready for an hour and a half at least, what with buying the food and all.
— As you like.
Hermione left, and a few minutes later Daphne came back downstairs. No longer in the light summer dress, but wearing something closer to a long pinafore dress, with a robe over it. And her handbag, naturally — had she picked up the habit from me of carrying everything she owned on her person at all times?
— Breakfast won't be for a while yet, — I observed, offering my hand to Daphne as she came down the last few steps, and she took it with a slight smile.
— A shame, but not a disaster.
A familiar tapping at the window drew our attention — two owls were staring directly at us.
— Are they actually waiting outside the neighbour's house? — I couldn't help but feel affronted by their audacity, which drew a laugh from Daphne.
— No, not at all. But they can move very quickly when they need to. Just not very far.
I gestured to open the window and let the owls in. The birds flew in neatly and promptly and delivered letters to Daphne and me. From Hogwarts.
— I have a feeling I know how we'll be spending the time until breakfast.
While we opened our envelopes, the owls took their leave, and I closed the window with a gesture without looking up. The contents of the letters were fairly routine — the list of required supplies for a sixth-year. But there was something there I hadn't seen before and hadn't expected to see.
— Professor Snape is Headmaster now? — Daphne frowned.
— Aren't you pleased? He is your Head of House, after all.
— He is perhaps the last person who would have wanted this position, — Daphne said. — There's something behind this.
— Well, given the rumours that the Dark Lord has come to power, I see nothing particularly surprising in it. The Professor is a Death Eater. If I were the Dark Lord, I'd certainly want a trusted man as Headmaster of the only wizarding school in the country.
— When you put it that way... — Daphne considered. — Even so, it seems rather problematic. Who will teach Potions now?
— They'll find someone. Besides, it's unlikely we'd have continued our advanced individual Potions study with the Professor regardless. Shall we go shopping?
— Are you going like that?
I glanced down at myself and raised an eyebrow — turning up in Diagon Alley in shorts, a t-shirt and trainers would hardly do.
— My apologies, — a wave of my hand transformed my clothes into a proper suit, robe, and shoes, with the transfiguration fixed for good measure. — Better, I take it?
Daphne straightened my tie and gave an approving nod. Another wave of the hand conjured a note for Hermione explaining where we'd gone, and letting her know I'd pick up her set of textbooks as well.
— We can go.
As we walked I cast Muggle-Repelling Charms on us, and the moment we stepped outside and the door was shut behind us, I Apparated us to the back yard of the Leaky Cauldron — after warning Daphne, naturally — and immediately opened the passage through to Diagon Alley.
— You Apparate so smoothly, — Daphne remarked approvingly. — I've Apparated with my parents any number of times, but with them it's considerably rougher.
— Just good control.
— Don't be modest.
Diagon Alley was just as gloomy as it had been a fortnight ago. Few bright colours, little of the usual cheerful bustle. Most of the shops and stalls were still open, and shopkeepers called out to passersby — but the people themselves... It reminded me somehow of a Siberian town on a hard winter's day, everyone in black or dark coats and hats, walking with purpose to wherever they needed to be, only a handful of people laughing for no apparent reason.
The atmosphere of the street did not invite lingering, and so we moved through the shops fairly quickly. Given that most people had apparently done their school shopping the week before, we encountered neither queues nor any other such inconveniences. The one place where we spent any real time was buying school robes and uniforms. Taking measurements, preparing everything, fitting it — Madam Malkin's was by far the longest stop.
With the shopping done, we headed home. By the time we got back, Hermione had almost finished putting together a quick but clearly delicious meal.
What can I say about the meal itself? It was peculiar.
The three of us sitting at the dining table, eating, looking at one another, barely speaking, because there was nothing in particular to say. The television was on in the background in the sitting room — the news. In the dining room itself, only the clink of cutlery against crockery. After eating came the time to simply sit, enjoy tea and conversation — and while the first presented no difficulties, the second refused to get off the ground.
— I sense, — I said with a smile, — that there's tension in the air. Surely a Hufflepuff, a Gryffindor, and a Slytherin can manage a conversation at the same table without adult supervision?
— I just want to go back to the sea, back somewhere warm, — Hermione sighed, and looked at Daphne sitting across from her. — What about you?
— Diagon Alley is altogether miserable, — Daphne sighed as well, though she held herself with considerably more composure at the table, with a palpable air of propriety about her. — Shopping there used to be a kind of occasion, a small celebration. Now I don't want to linger there a single moment longer than necessary.
— On the subject, — I glanced at my sister. — I bought your textbooks and supplies. The uniform is still to be sorted. How are you planning to go about that?
— Some of the girls and I arranged to meet up once everyone's back from holiday. I'd think in about two days. We seem to have come back earliest.
— I'll need to collect Crookshanks from my mentor.
— Your mentor?
— Well, if you remember, Hermione — I left Crookshanks with Daphne, and she, because of the trip with her family, passed him on to her godfather, who happens also to be my mentor in Healing.
— Ah, right. That logical chain rather escaped me. When are you planning to see him?
My gaze moved to Daphne, who had been following our conversation and was concealing a smile behind her teacup. She caught my look and decided to relay what we'd already briefly discussed during the shopping.
— Hector and I are going to my parents' now. It's quite possible that my godfather will be there at this hour. And if not, I imagine Hector will have no trouble finding him at Mungo's.
The conversation managed, with some difficulty, to get moving at last, and we devoted roughly twenty minutes to that most civilised of pastimes — tea and talk. Afterwards, Daphne helped Hermione with the washing up, the two of them whispering together quietly about something. Perhaps they'd finally found topics in common? This half-playful standoff between them was beginning to wear on me slightly.
Once the kitchen was in order, I handed Hermione her share of the textbooks, which delighted her thoroughly — she disappeared upstairs at once with a beaming smile to start reading ahead. As she always does. And, if I'm being honest, as I do too. Daphne and I, meanwhile, made our way to her parents' house.
A short Apparition, and we were standing at the gate. Daphne drew her wand and touched it to the ironwork, and the gates began to swing open, allowing us onto the grounds. Everything here was unchanged — the plants, the gardens, the gazebo in the near distance, all immaculately kept and orderly. As we were approaching the front door it opened, revealing Mrs Greengrass in a pale, loose-fitting dress. She was smiling at us, and as far as I could tell, quite sincerely.
— Hello, Mum, — Daphne smiled, embracing her mother.
— Hello to you, my dear abducted girl.
These embraces were nothing like the ones Hermione lavishes on people she cares about. My sister's embraces carry a genuine risk of minor fractures — she's less a human being than a constrictor snake. This was altogether more graceful, measured, but no less warm.
When the embrace was done, Mrs Greengrass looked at me, and her smile didn't waver in the slightest. There was only genuine curiosity in her gaze.
— Hector...
Had I been walking, I might have tripped over nothing at all. Something of my reaction must have shown in my expression, because Mrs Greengrass's smile widened.
— ...good afternoon, — she finished.
— Good afternoon, Mrs Greengrass.
— Do come in.
We stepped inside and followed Mrs Greengrass through to a small sitting room. There in armchairs around a low table sat Mr Greengrass and Healer Smethwyck. There was no warmth to be found on Daphne's father's face — only a kind of peculiar resignation. Smethwyck, by contrast, was genuinely pleased to see us and smiled broadly.
— Ah, my dear goddaughter and her chosen one.
— Godfather, — Daphne smiled at him, then shifted to a more measured look directed at Mr Greengrass. — Father.
— Daphne, — he nodded. — Mr Granger.
Nothing resembling a proper conversation followed, because barely thirty seconds later Astoria appeared in the sitting room doorway, throwing her arms around her sister with delight — and, notably, not bothering to affect the pretence of haughty indifference in my presence. She'd apparently drawn her own conclusions, or was in league with her mother, which would hardly have been surprising. All told, one couldn't help but feel a measure of sympathy for Mr Greengrass — the household had quite clearly staged a coup, there was no other way to put it.
---------------
Give me Powerstones if you like the story.
If you want to read 60+ advance chapters, you can do so on my Patreon.
Patreon(.)com/TheRedSpell