Astoria promptly whisked Daphne off for a private chat, and I accepted Mr Greengrass's invitation to take one of the empty chairs, while Mrs Greengrass settled into the other. Tea was offered — the assembled company were already occupied with it — and I saw no reason to refuse, though I discreetly checked both the cup and the drink for anything untoward before proceeding.
— Surely, Mr Granger, — Mr Greengrass began, in a tone that suggested he rather enjoyed the remark, — you haven't returned our daughter simply because you had nowhere to put her?
— Uilliam, — Mrs Greengrass gave her husband a reproving look.
— Not at all — I have a house, and shall shortly have another besides, — I replied with a polite smile, settling more comfortably into my chair.
My answer produced a flicker of genuine surprise on Daphne's father's face.
— Come now, — I said, with feigned astonishment. — You didn't imagine Muggle-borns simply materialise out of thin air and live on the street?
— Hm, — Mr Greengrass raised his chin with the studied pride that reminded me of certain pureblooded acquaintances — the ones who, when caught out, do precisely the same thing before making a very deliberate exit.
— The question does have its logic, though, — Mrs Greengrass smiled at me. — I had assumed you might return Daphne only when the time came for Hogwarts.
— By our actions, — I said, placing a slight emphasis on our, — we made clear our decision, and our resolve to see it through to the end if necessary. But that doesn't mean I intend to cut Daphne off from her sister, her mother, or her godfather.
— Ha! — Smethwyck gave a delighted laugh, looking pointedly at Mr Greengrass. — You, my friend, appear not to feature on that list.
— Mr Greengrass's actions have been too ambiguous, and risk producing consequences that would not be welcome.
— We have thoroughly discussed this matter on all sides, — Mrs Greengrass said with a nod. — And we have no intention of standing in your way.
— I've heard as much, and we have an agreement to that effect, — I conceded. — But it is unpleasant — vexing, in fact — when a family of such standing, of generations of wizarding heritage, chooses to observe only the letter of an agreement while disregarding its spirit entirely. You would hardly wish to do business with someone who intends to deceive you the moment a means presents itself, I imagine.
— I am forced to concede that, — Mr Greengrass said.
— I genuinely have no wish to be in conflict with you. Which is precisely why I ask that you not place Daphne and me in a position where a direct confrontation becomes the only resolution.
— Uilliam understands perfectly well, — Smethwyck smiled, — and our merry little collective has already made absolutely certain he does... Yes, everything's been said that needed saying. You, Mr Granger, would do better to tell me — when are you ready to begin your practical work?
— I should think I'll need two more days to attend to accumulated matters, and after that I'll be at your disposal. Within reason.
— Excellent. Then in three days' time, nine in the morning, I'll expect you in my office at Mungo's.
— Splendid. There's also the matter I wanted to raise regarding our recent conversation.
Smethwyck understood at once what I meant, and answered without hesitation.
— Tomorrow evening. I'll send your little owl with the precise time later today, around supper.
— Glad to hear it. I hope Crookshanks hasn't caused you any trouble.
— Not at all, — Smethwyck waved the concern away, smiling. — Though he is quite extraordinarily energetic. Small as he is, he's managed to terrorise every owl in the household.
— Speaking of things terrifying, — Mr Greengrass allowed himself another thin smile. — Are you aware, Mr Granger, that a Dark Lord has now come to power in England?
— I am informed of those rumours.
— And what is your view on the matter? His policies in the years before his disappearance, and I presume now as well, have never shown much sympathy for Muggle-borns. And I seem to recall someone maintaining that the Dark Lord was a temporary phenomenon.
— I remain of that opinion, — I said with conviction. — You cannot build a state on fear and terror — not in the long term. And one must bear in mind that the world still remembers Grindelwald and the consequences of his ambitions. I'm certain that the moment the Dark Lord's expansion extends beyond Britain's borders, many in the wider world will want to be rid of him before that wave gathers strength. The memory of those events, and those deaths, is still living, Mr Greengrass.
— And yet why is no one in the international community rushing to resolve this problem now? — Greengrass smiled.
— Oh, that's quite simple. At present, England looks to everyone like a boiling cauldron of dragon dung. And such things, as is well known, are best left well alone — the smell is appalling, and one risks getting badly scalded. Besides, gathering and studying information from a great many sources, I find myself arriving at some rather interesting conclusions. If you're interested, I'll share my thoughts.
I leant back in my chair, saucer and teacup in hand, and took a small sip of the excellent tea.
— Why not? — Smethwyck did exactly the same, and the Greengrasses, if not particularly animated, were at least prepared to pay attention.
— Very well then. My conclusions are these — all of this looks rather like some kind of purge of an excessively influential radical element, along with dark creatures, regardless of which political camp they belong to. All in the name of some vague notion of "the common good." Allow me to elaborate.
I took another sip of tea and continued.
— The recent wizarding war produced casualties — that's not disputed. But if one begins going through the archives, one finds very little in the way of specifics. Here it says great losses, there it says losses no smaller, but no names, no detail. And the names that do appear — in the archives, in newspapers, in cuttings and transcripts — those names belong either to radicals of the "blood purity" faction who were calling for mass extermination, or to the opposing faction's radicals who were equally committed to eliminating the first lot. And of course Ministry of Magic personnel and Aurors — without them, nothing moves. But those "great losses," those "dozens of Muggle-borns" — there is no census, no statistics, no concrete numbers. Nobody knows how many wizards actually live in this country. An approximation, give or take a thousand, perhaps more.
— If one thinks about it, — Mrs Greengrass said quietly, with a slight smile, — that's rather accurate. But what about casualties among Muggles?
— Incidental casualties in the advancement of one faction or another. But note — quite insignificant ones. Insignificant enough that the Crown remains entirely passive, and yet I am absolutely certain the British government has the means to play a role in resolving this conflict. Even if its own resources were insufficient, you don't imagine the ICW would decline a request? Bear in mind that the governments of every nation are aware of the magical states on their territory. Or if Britain's request for peacekeeping assistance were refused by the ICW, she could go directly to the European Union and NATO. Who would in turn apply to the wizarding states within their own borders.
The assembled company exchanged glances, thought for a moment, sipped their tea.
— NATO, for example, includes the United States — which, I hasten to remind you, means MACUSA. I rather think a great many of their enforcement wizards would be delighted for an official mandate to land on the soil of their former mother country and mince us all very finely. In a peacekeeping capacity, naturally.
— What are you driving at, Hector?
Mrs Greengrass used my first name again, and Mr Greengrass's eye gave the faintest twitch at it. Smethwyck, by contrast, smiled. She was evidently making quite clear, in her own way, that she fully approved of my existence — and of her daughter's relationship with me.
— Simply this: that despite what appears to be chaos and catastrophe, all of this has been kept under a certain degree of control. Tensions built and built, radicals killed each other off, the dark creatures that were mobilised have quite efficiently been reducing their own numbers — and just when the Dark Lord was almost at the point of seizing power, poof.
I spread my hands wide.
— He vanished. His followers found themselves in Azkaban within a matter of months, and those with the good sense to buy their way clear rather than continue as devoted fanatics are walking free, doing perfectly well. And now the whole scenario is playing out again. Dark creatures are gathering into a single army in a single place, and the remaining radicals have regrouped. They've recruited criminals, marginal figures, and every other variety of absolutely worthless flotsam that one would really rather not see reproducing.
— Ha, well, that's about the size of it, — Smethwyck chuckled.
— Precisely, — I nodded. — So now the Dark Lord is in power, albeit unofficially, as I understand it. And now that the enemy has become at least somewhat visible and tangible, the other radicals — the would-be saviours, the champions of justice by fire and sword — are coalescing into their own gathering. That leaves the sensible, the neutral, the pragmatists, and the ordinary people quite out of the reckoning. My thinking is that matters will now escalate further, some unseen puppeteer will appoint a time and place for a final battle, and in that battle everyone will very thoroughly kill each other off. The victor will then be finished off by whoever is most cunning — and that will be that. Those who remain in power will be the rational ones, the adaptable, the clever, the sort who don't fit the description of "hot-headed." The Dark Lord will vanish again, possibly for good, and the ordinary people...
I took another sip of tea and smiled.
— The ordinary people, who will have sustained such minimal losses that, as always, no one will write a single word about them, will go back to what they've always done — and would have done under any government. Getting on with their lives. Working, and so forth.
— But in these battles, in these wars, — Mr Greengrass spoke up, — the last representatives of ancient families are killed. Their heritage is lost.
— And? — I shrugged, which produced visible incomprehension from Daphne's father, though Smethwyck and Mrs Greengrass seemed to catch my meaning. — In a couple of hundred years there'll be new ancient families. The ones that are merely "old families" now. They'll have their own heritage by then. And besides — to oppress Muggle-borns is no different from spitting on the graves of the very first generations of one's own family. Unless you imagine those first generations fell from the sky?
Mr Greengrass made a sound that could best be rendered as a startled grunt at that particular view from me. Mrs Greengrass hid her smile behind her teacup. Smethwyck, as usual, was quietly finding the whole spectacle enormously entertaining. He, I think, simply has his own firm position on every question and doesn't much trouble himself about anything else.
— Well, — Smethwyck said with a smile, looking around at everyone. — There is sense in that, and no way of contradicting it whatsoever. I find myself equally amused by the pretensions of certain families, the ones who, how does it go — "not a single drop of Muggle blood in the line, going back generations!"
He was clearly doing an impression of someone familiar to everyone present, except me.
— Heh-heh, — the Healer chuckled. — While the very first bearer of their name turns in his grave at those words. Right then, gentlemen — marvellous company, but the work won't do itself.
Smethwyck set down his empty cup. We all rose and left the sitting room. In the entrance hall, not far from the door, Daphne and Astoria were standing together, clearly in the middle of an animated conversation — though at the sight of us they quickly tucked away their too-bright smiles, leaving only the mildest suggestion of them. Mr Greengrass went to see Smethwyck out to the room with the large fireplace, while Mrs Greengrass and I went over to the girls. I'd expected some brief exchange, but Mrs Greengrass swept Astoria away with her on some pressing matter, pausing only to say a proper farewell to me. And so Daphne and I were left alone.
— I could take you back with us, you know.
— Don't worry, — Daphne stepped close, put her arms around me, and moved to rest her head on my chest — but she's rather too tall for that, so it was my shoulder instead.
— It still feels odd. Abducted, and then returned.
Daphne laughed quietly at that.
— You're fretting over nothing.
— Even so, it rather looks as though I made a grand gesture without thinking through what comes after. But it's not my place to deny you time with your family.
Daphne drew back slightly, with a quite open smile.
— Some purebloods would have a very different opinion on that, — she kissed me, with no evident self-consciousness about being observed, and then continued her thought: — Do you know, Pansy used to say that our mutual respect for each other would prevent us from ever truly becoming close.
— You mentioned.
— Yes. But that respect, that understanding... it genuinely makes me feel as though I could take flight. For a long time, I understood rationally what my chances were of being matched with someone "advantageous." I understood it, but I was afraid that I'd eventually be told: "What do you think you're doing with your magic — stay at home, tend the gardens, and read romance novels, like any respectable pureblood witch."
— Does that actually happen?
— More often than you'd think.
— Not in our case.
— Not in ours.
One more farewell kiss, and Daphne drew back with evident reluctance, resting her hand on my chest and straightening my tie again.
— Go on. You have a great deal more to do today, I'm sure of it.
— Yes. Write to me — the notebook is always with me. And if anything—
— Use the amulet. I know.
And so I left the Greengrass house, with a quiet regret that I still hadn't built my own place. Well — that was precisely what I intended to see to. Tomorrow, for instance, I was to collect the finished design from the firm I'd commissioned with that somewhat daunting undertaking. Then I'd need to source samples of all the required materials, study them for accurate transfiguration, and in parallel begin assembling my thoughts on the enchantments required for the finished house. No, it wouldn't be easy. And tomorrow, Smethwyck would also be finishing with those two — there might finally be a chance to learn something more. I didn't like the idea of an unknown adversary potentially on my trail while I didn't even know their name.
Yes. August was going to be a long one.
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