Harry Potter - Hellion!

 

As the muggles and the mages took their place, guided by a school of house-elves, everyone was in deep thought. For the muggles, it was what table manners to adopt, as they had been painfully made aware they were in a society closer to diplomatic circles than their come-as-you-are kitchen and mess hall. Some were even having problems thinking about what the true meaning of the ‘mess’ hall hid, given some entered the army unable to tie their boots and considered a shower a luxury for Sunday service. Some had looked at the crystal glasses, too afraid to hold them tightly enough and almost dropping them in the process. Lord Black and Lord Longbottom had done a great job in training them in less then thirty minutes. Yet, they realized they were still woefully unprepared for this twelve-course lunch, not that they knew they were facing the meals served at the Ming Dynasty table for a ‘family affair’, or business lunch as the Occidentals would call it. They did realize tho, that the cutlery far outstripped in numbers and quality what they were used to. The commander looked at the Mages with despair.

"Do as I do," he whispered to the Commander. "There are twelve services, from the number of cutlery, a basic number for a ‘business meeting’ of the Druids. Below that, and the hostess would have been labeled stingy." After a nod, Sirius continued: "Start with the outer pair, and move inward as each service is distributed. The glasses are to be handled from right to left, as each service is served. The cutlery at the top of the plates are for dessert, after-dessert, and final bite, usually a sweet that is an elaborate crystalized fruit. From what I see, we are going to have soup, salad, crab or lobster, another salad, another hot liquid similar to soup, another meat dish, probably some wild animal prepared exquisitely, another salad, another hot soup, and a final meat dish, the piece de resistance, then three deserts: a fruit dish, ice cream, and the last tool indicates the crystalized nature of the last dish. Eat lightly, taste everything, and for Merlin’s sake, do not make a face. The size of the portions are small, so, technically, you should be able to take in a good half of each and not burst at the seams. The drinks are alcoholic or fruit juice according to the dish being served, so no hoarding, it is useless. The glass will be removed just before the next one is filled. When you are done, put the fork, knife or spoon you have used on the side of the plate, useful end in the middle."

Narcissa watched her cousin educate the muggles and the Wolf on table manners with growing awe. He was Black to the tip of his hairs, and it showed. She realized, a bit late, that she now owned fealty to him, as her husband was dead. The muggles listened to her cousin with undivided attention, and clearly tried to memorize everything in a go. Good luck, as there were so many traps at a Druid’s table it was closer to a mine field.

"What if I am left-handed?" whispered a muggle, worriedly, as he saw how the forks and knives were placed.

"It is considered impolite to switch hands during the meal. So do your best. You have all the time in the world, within reason, to learn right-hand usage of the fork, knife and spoon."

Drat. Trap one evaded. Lord Black was a loud-mouth, depriving her of her anticipated enjoyment of misbehavior. Luckily, Draco was having lunch in his room. She was not in the mood to see the temperamental food tornado pitch everything in sight because he decided he did not like what was on his high-chair table.

The first course, a cucumber cold soup, arrived instantly on the table and none of the muggles even blinked at the speed of service. A light white wine also materialized in the glasses. Actually, everyone but the muggles knew Narcissa was cheating, trying to throw enough fairy dust to blind a dragon. The dishes and glasses had been pre-filled in the kitchen’s preparation table, and artistically switched with the empty plate by activating a portkey for each plate and glass. The perfect synchrony of the exchange was part of the quality of the service offered.

After the requisite three-minute wait from the beginning of service number one, Narcissa looked at her Liege Lord and blinked, to which Sirius answered in kind, thus acknowledging that conversation could begin.

"You mentioned you operated under the Old Laws of Camelot. How did this come to pass?"

Narcissa, noted Sirius, was as sharp and to the point as she had been in her youth. He began explaining what was happening in the magical world, and what the magical rolls of Peerage had revealed about himself and Frank. Also, Sirius came clean on the betrayal of the Crown by the mages, and the resulting consequences, namely, that the Secrecy Act was defunct and that the Ministry was no more as the magical world had lost its relative independence. Then he came out about the magical binding of the muggle Crown to laws set in motion by Merlin himself, and that the Queen was an indirect beneficiary of these bonds, yet constrained by them, thus forcing her to take back the reigns of power from the muggle parliament, much like she had wrestled the power of the Wizengamot, now dissolved.

By then, the sixth service was coming to a close. Narcissa regretted having missed the developments, but she had long removed herself from the customer scroll of that rag, the Daily Prophet, which she dubbed the Daily Profit. Looking at Sirius, she commented:

"I gather there are things left unsaid, as you are under oath to Camelot. My turn to feed your curiosity. I will be as candid as you where, my cousin."

The wide eyes of the muggles did not go unnoticed by Narcissa "I also gather you left some information unsaid, from their looks," as she pointed to the muggles with her chin.

"I did not expect this to be your home. And once you walked in that room, things cascaded too fast for me to update them."

After a nod, Narcissa took a breath and focussed herself, as service number seven began.

"Your report on a dragon having been present on this property is correct. Note, I put this in the past, as the dragon changed shape, so we can no longer say a dragon is on the property."

Sirius nodded at the nuance.

"What I can tell you is that this shifter has an impressive collection of shapes at his disposal, as he seemed to train in his shape-shifter abilities right in my back yard. My boy, Draco, saw it as a cat, and the house-elf saw him as a cat, a house-elf, a Forest Elf, and as a little boy, before the shifter ported to the forest to spend the night within our wards. This morning, he seemed to have gone through his collection, minus his shark form, for good reason, as water basins are rare on this property."

"How did you know of the shark form if he did not show it? You told us earlier you had not been keeping track of the magical or muggle world for some time."

"Late last night, I was visited by three of my husband’s allies. One of them claimed to have spied on the muggles and traced the story from its inception, October thirty-first of last year."

"Evan Rosier."

"It seems you know as much as I do. I therefore feel relieved of my hospitality toward him and his two luggage, the Carrow twins."

"Is he still around or do you know where they went?"

"Rosier is hunting for Voldemort. He is a firm believer that the smear on magic is alive as a shade somewhere, and he has traced him all winter around Europe and Asia. How long a shade can survive without a body is debatable. It needs an anchor to stay in this plane. Rosier is the last of the fanatics still in liberty. He tried to recruit, and set the Carrows on the task, with little effect."

"Where are the twins? With him?"

"Oh no. When I created the portkeys, I made sure the destination was at the bottom of the Atlantic, some eleven thousand meters below, in fact. They got crushed on materialization. Unfortunately, Rosier was not as dim-witted as the other two, and managed to get out of here before I could stick a portkey on him. Rosier left by apparation, and I have set the wards to keep him out. He wanted a portkey to Scotland. He probably expects to find sympathizers at Hogwarts."

"He will be sorely surprised. The Queen had the school cleansed of the dark mark bearers and of sympathizers. Their head now adorns the cast-iron fence of Buckingham Palace. She is rather decisive, as befits the holder of the throne of Camelot."

"Is my husband’s head there?"

"Probably. There are so many the muggles installed a second ring around the grounds, and are quickly filling them up as those of magical ascent refuse to take the vow of fealty to the Crown. I suggest you take yours voluntarily, Lady Black. As Lord Black, I can order you to, or throw you out of the family. The consequences for Draco would be dire. Being a no-name is like a brand on his forehead. Do not do that to the child. And going on your own free will shall shed a better light on you, and, accessorily, on Draco."

"I shall do as you suggest, cousin. Where shall I go?"

"At Buckingham Palace. Ask to see either Frank or I, and we will smooth things out for you."

"I will go to London to get some gold at the Goblin bank and proceed there."

"One thing, Lady Malfoy. I suggest you keep away from the bank. Your husband is dead and, in most probability, his will took effect. The goblins are overflowed by the paperwork produced by the beheadings and the number of lines that got terminated. Furthermore, the vast majority of death-eaters willed their holdings to Lord Voldemort, and as he is declared defeated and in limbo, his belongings, including pending inheritances, have been or are being transferred to his magical heir, the one that destroyed him, one Lord Harry James Potter. That boy is the Round Table by himself, minus my and Frank’s seat. Should I flip, he is my heir as well, Narcissa, unless I have a child."

"He is also mine, if Neville dies before I do," added Frank Longbottom.

"What do you suggest, then?"

"Ask for me to rescind the marriage contract. I am sure Lucius has broken it over and over, so it should be easy. I would then reinstate your Black income from our assets, with a substantial adjustment for the care of Draco. However, even if I take him in, and you accept to terminate the Malfoy line, I can not and will not make Draco my heir. He is the fruit of the loins of Lucius, and you know how acrimonious our relations were."

"That is an understatement. Cousin, I realize I will not be able to run this manor on the usual income. And, to be honest, I wish to return to the family. However, you know Welburga; she could corrupt an angel with her vitriolic, pure blood or burst attitude. I must stay here, if only to protect Draco from her."

"Mom is as bitchy as ever. She is bound to overstep her limits, or step on the wrong toes. That day, I will be short a mother. And given how she has treated me over the years, I will not shed crocodile tears on her shortening. Come to the Palace gates tomorrow at dawn. It is open from dawn to dusk. Do not be surprised to see old acquaintances of your husband in bird cages. Ignore them. They are awaiting trial. Most will not pass the day."

"Is it that... rapid?"

"Yes. Veritaserum is used liberally, and the results are quick, if messy. I never knew humans could carry so much blood. The courtyard when the axeman does his office is soaking in it. The muggle have taken to wearing red so blood does not show... too much. The mages of the court have been porting bodies in different oceans so as not to favor a group of sharks over the other."

"Dumbledore must be enjoying himself, with his defense of the muggle-borns."

"Dumbledore is... enjoying is a big word... the hospitality of Her Majesty’s dungeons, in... err... company of rather fat rats."

"The way you say it lets me believe there is something unsaid."

"It is unsaid at a nice meal, Lady Malfoy," said the muggle Commander, talking for the first time at the table.

The smirks of everyone at her table told Narcissa that Dumbledore must not be having fun.

As the eleventh service was popped into existence, Narcissa returned to her own story.

"This morning, the shape-shifter returned to where Draco had met him and enjoyed a hot rock as an adder. Then it took the form of a runespoor, a magical three-headed snake," she added for the benefit of the muggles. "It then proceeded to change in an astounding array of shapes, as if it was reviewing them. The last three were, and please hold your mouth closed, Cousin, it is unbecoming of a head of an Ancient and Noble House to give access to your throat to flies, anyway, it transformed into a Phoenix, a Grimm, a Forest Elf, and a High Elf."

"The house-elf and the last two are new. They did not register on his scroll of Peerage for either the Kingdom or Camelot," said Frank, bemused.

"I came to a conclusion after observing this. The Mage is able to not only pick the primary pattern for a species, but to back-track its evolution. We know Forest Elves were High Elves left behind during their migration as care-takers. He just picked the Forest Elf and backtracked."

"That would explain the Megalodon."

"So, Evan Rosier was not trying to flash me when he said he had tried to capture Harry Potter. That mage is, as I thought, Lord Potter. No wonder Voldemort met his match."

"Power-wise, Voldemort is a sitting duck; knowledge-wise, until Harry manages to sort all the knowledge he gains as each head of house dies and transfers his or her knowledge base to him through magical inheritance, he is at a disadvantage. But that will not last. I am sure he already is well on his way to mastering the intricate art of occlumency, and, once he masters how to sort his mind, he will have access to knowledge that will put even his direct ancestor, Merlin, to shame. And if he is even slightly nosy, he will be able to access our own knowledge as if we were storage banks for his perusal."

"But etiquette..."

"Lady Malfoy, Lord Potter is being raised by nature, not by either muggles or mages. Etiquette will have no significance for him. He is wild, and has no limits imposed to his magic by etiquette, morals, or conventions. Consider this: You told us your house-elf saw him nude. He has no idea of modesty; he has nothing to hide; and therefore, he can not fathom that there is such a concept for others. I suspect he drove Rosier in a trap of his own making to dispose of them, while Rosier thought he had the big end of the stick. The blood-bath I saw proved to me he was well-aware of whom were the ones trying to hurt him, and he showed no mercy whatsoever. Had Rosier and the Carrows been unfortunate enough to meet him, they would have enjoyed the gutting of their lives."

"How about Draco and I?"

"Would you have had hostile intentions? If so, we would be trying to find your bits."

"I see. He acts on perceived intentions, then."

"I would say on the real intentions of a person. He is an animal, and he reads you like a book."

As the last dessert was served, Narcissa offered hospitality for the day and night.

"You need a base of operations. I am offering my home and grounds for this. I must warn you, he may not be very cooperative. I tried to entice him but he ignored me superbly."

"We are aware of the difficulties, Lady Malfoy. As soon as we are done and released from your table, we would appreciate to be taken to where Lord Potter was last seen."

"Certainly."

The muggles and the mages finished the ‘lunch’ and made their way to the back yard with Narcissa. Draco and Dobby were playing near the rock outcropping. The muggles spread around, looking for any signs of unexpected animal activity.

"Do not go too far away. My husband has a menagerie of magical animals, and some are far from friendly. That is why Dobby keeps close watch on Draco," said Narcissa. Then she noticed the silence. "I wonder where the peacocks went. They are usually very noisy in the spring as they try to call the attention of potential mates."

"Err, Lady Malfoy? I think I have an explanation for some. Have a look," said a muggle soldier, pointing behind a bush.

Lady Malfoy made her way to the bush and looked at what the soldier was pointing. There, about six peacock heads were strewn across the grass that was hidden behind the bush.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"From the prints on the soft dirt, I would say a huge cat, way bigger than a lion. The toes are spread, a archaic trait. If it was not an impossibility, I would say a saber-tooth tiger of impressive size."

"With Lord Potter around, I would not put it beyond him to revive that extinct species, as he has done with the Megalodon. Lord Black, when you next check on the scrolls for Lord Potter, do not be surprised to find the name for the saber-tooth Tiger."

"Uh?"

"It seems the birds indisposed Lord Potter and he disposed of them. I suspect he also made a quick lunch of them. How long ago do you think this occurred?" she asked the mundane soldier that seemed to know tracking.

"From the condition of the heads, I would say early this morning, around dawn. The ants have had time to do a substantial cleansing, but not complete. It is the feathers that told me these were peacocks. By tomorrow morning, thee only thing left will be bones picked clean, and feathers. In two more days, the feathers themselves will have been recovered by rodents to insulate their dens. No rodent is stupid enough to venture in the area until the ants are done with the cleaning, as they risk becoming part of the feeding frenzy."

"That explained the calm silence I felt as I sat on that bench watching the snake on the stone getting warmed by the sun’s rays. I never thought my husband’s prized peacocks could be so noisy."

"I should have known Lucius would collect peacocks. He was one himself!" exclaimed Sirius.

"I can not deny the fact, Lord Black. And that was one of the major reasons I accepted the marriage contract. Much to my regret at a later date."

"Did he beat you?" asked a very pissed Sirius.

"Oh, no. He wanted a female fit for his ambitions, a jewel to show-case. So, no, he never lifted a hand on me. But once I conceived Draco, he never lifted a hand on me for sex either. You see, Lucius was not into women. Once he had done his duty to ensure the continuity of the Malfoy line, the purpose of the marriage was fulfilled. Lucius liked... teen boys. I was afraid he would pervert Draco when he grew enough to be of interest. I would not have put it beyond him. He fell in love with the Dark Lord not because of shared ideals, as my husband had only one: serve himself; but because he found the Dark Lord attractive physically."

That was news to the mages, and disgusted the mundanes.