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“You’ll never guess who I saw today,” Malcolm Hurst called out from the kitchen after he heard an arrival in the Floo room.
“Aldon Rosier,” said Leo Hurst somewhat flatly, as he walked into the kitchen where Malcolm was preparing tonight’s dinner.
“Leo!” exclaimed Malcolm, giving the cauldron on the stove a final stir, “good to see you; I thought it was your mother. I didn’t realise you were coming for dinner tonight.”
“Ma reminded me I’m overdue for a visit, and said it was your turn to cook tonight. How could I say no to my Da’s cooking?” Leo smiled. “Ma told me to tell you that she’s running a bit behind; she should be home in about ten minutes.”
“Perfect timing,” replied Malcolm. “This soup’ll be ready in about fifteen.” He turned down the heat on the cauldron and moved to the pantry to get the bread. “How did you know I saw Heir Rosier today?”
“Rosier was in Krait’s looking for Harry,” Leo responded. “And Krait said that you told Rosier that Harry Potter brews for the Serpent’s Storeroom.”
Leo looked carefully at his father. “Was that really necessary?”
“The girl needs all the friends she can get,” replied Malcolm unabashedly.
“Rosier was—upfront—about his intentions. He was concerned for Harry’s well-being.”
“Upfront—you mean you used your fiendish truth table on him,” snorted Leo, grabbing crockery and cutlery and heading for the kitchen table, old habits not dying.
“I prefer to think of it as the Aldermaster’s anti-deception desk,” said Malcolm primly, as he rescued the glasses from the cupboard and reached for the drinks. “Very useful when dealing with difficult masters, recalcitrant apprentices, not to mention stubborn offspring.”
Leo scowled at that. He had less than fond memories of that desk, even if he had soon learned to mitigate its effects.
“But yes, I did, and Rosier was none too pleased.”
“I’m surprised he realised what was happening.”
“In this case, the son is much more perceptive than the father. Open minded too.”
“I didn’t realise you knew Lord Rosier.”
“Only a passing acquaintance—but I’ve seen him around at various functions over the years and never been much impressed.”
“I’m not sure I was all that impressed by the son,” snorted Leo.
Malcolm gave his son a hard look. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t be. Not that I think you’ve got anything to worry about—”
“Da!”
Did everyone know how Leo felt about Harry? Was he really that obvious? Or did his Da know more about him than Leo realised?
“—but Harry really does need all the help she can get. You don’t realise just how difficult it was to get Whitaker to agree to that press statement. It didn’t even say anything. Edgar wanted to just throw her to the wolves.”
“Throw who to the wolves?” asked Eleni as she entered the kitchen. “Hi Malcolm, Leo. Glad you could make it for dinner after all.”
“As much as I love Solom’s Shepherd’s Pie, no one makes—or should I say brews—a better soup than Da.”
“Ha!” said Malcolm, carefully giving the soup three clockwise stirs followed by three counterclockwise stirs. “I do know the difference between brewing and cooking. Sadly, too many potions masters can’t cook.”
“Regardless, your soups, casseroles and sauces are the best. Not sure if I can say the same about your baking though.”
“Baking is completely different—that’s why I leave it up to your mother. Or buy bread from the bakery.”
Before long they were seated at the kitchen table, soup bowls happily steaming in front of them.
“So,” Eleni said, as she poured herself a glass of juice, “who’s being thrown to the wolves?”
“No one, thankfully,” replied Malcolm, “but that’s what Edgar Whitaker wanted to do with Harry Potter.”
“Poor girl,” said Eleni sympathetically. “She needs all the friends she can get—”
“That’s what I said,” interjected Malcolm.
“—because she’s never going to ask anyone for help. I’m not surprised that Whitaker doesn’t like her. Not only is he a sexist bigot, but Harry upstaged his intern—the Lestrange Heir at that!—at the Open Day.”
“It’s worse than that,” muttered Malcolm between mouthfuls of soup. “Lestrange has just completed his Mastery, and his thesis was on Harry’s shaped imbuing. Whitaker was furious—he can’t do it himself—but Lestrange was adamant that shaped imbuing was the future of potions.”
Leo listened intently although to all appearances he was just concentrating on his soup. Unknown to Harry or his parents, he’d watched Harry’s presentation and carefully read her paper.
“I certainly don’t disagree with Lestrange,” Malcolm continued, “and the boy had some surprisingly good ideas in his thesis. Better still, I’ve heard from Severus about some of the things that Harry’s been thinking of. I can’t wait to see where this leads.”
“Mmm, Harry’s mentioned a first aid kit containing potions prepared with her technique to me too,” Eleni added. “She was after some additional suggestions for healing spells that could be imbued into potions. It’s a fantastic idea if she can pull it off, as it will really revolutionise healing.” She smiled, “there is one downside, with Harry’s kit available I won’t need to see Leo’s friends nearly as often.”
She looked sternly at Leo. “I hope it wouldn’t encourage your friends to be even more reckless.”
“Ma,” protested Leo, but really, there wasn’t anything he could say. He’d long since learnt to bide his tongue around his mother and her lie detecting ability.
“However, good ideas aside, I can’t help but be somewhat suspicious of Lestrange.”
“Same,” muttered Leo into his soup.
Malcolm gave his son a sharp look. “I somehow doubt our reasons are the same, but you should be wary of Lestrange.”
Leo pointedly ignored the look his father gave him.
“Anyway, I’ve been doing some research into the dark potion that was used at the tournament. Alastor Moody can be very forceful, not that I wouldn’t have investigated it anyway. Unfortunately no samples were available after the tournament; the explosion overturned the cauldron and no one thought to try to collect a sample.”
Leo grimaced; if only he’d thought about it, he could have retrieved a sample, but he’d been more focused on retrieving Harry’s knife and making arrangements for the alley folk.
Malcolm continued. “My investigations—and I trust you both to treat this as confidential—”
His father’s trust in Leo warmed Leo’s soul as much as his father’s soup warmed his body.
“—led me to conclude that shaped imbuing was most likely used to prepare the dark potion. As far as I am aware, only three people can shaped imbue: Harry Potter, Severus Snape and Caelum Lestrange.
“And Harry wouldn’t do anything to hurt Rigel,” breathed Eleni.
“No. Nor would Severus do anything to hurt his apprentice. But Caelum Lestrange was known to have a disliking for Rigel Black.”
“Rigel was apprenticed to Severus Snape?” queried Eleni. “You haven’t mentioned that before.”
Leo listened closely; he hadn’t known that either.
“It wasn’t something Severus wanted widely known. Not only doesn’t he want to be pressured to take apprentices, but it can be difficult when Potions Masters who teach at schools take their students on as apprentices. Severus was, however, adamant about apprenticing Rigel—said there was something special about the boy. Extremely dedicated to potions, for all that he was so young. I just wish I’d met the boy,” Malcolm said while using his bread to mop up the remnants of his soup.
Soup finished, Malcolm continued. “Horace Slughorn was also full of praise for Rigel—at least before the final task—although I don’t think he ever saw the boy’s brews, just saw that the boy used potions in the tournament.”
Eleni snorted. “I didn’t realise the old walrus was still around.”
“Separating Horace from those in the limelight is nigh impossible,” Malcolm said dryly. “Horace was one of the tournament judges, and from the way he spoke, I gathered that he was very interested in “collecting” Rigel. Anyway, from what little Severus said about Rigel, I almost thought he was talking about Harry; they sounded so alike, even though Severus said that the boy insisted he couldn’t shaped imbue.”
Leo froze imperceptibly. This was dangerous territory.
Thankfully his mother rapidly diverted the conversation, although that strongly suggested to Leo that his mother had figured out the truth behind Harry and Rigel.
“Getting back to the Lestrange Heir; do you really think that Caelum Lestrange was involved with Voldemort and those death eaters?” Eleni asked.
Leo knew Harry wouldn’t like his mother knowing, but Eleni was one more person who would solidly support Harry’s story without asking any questions, not that Leo ever doubted his mother’s support for Harry.
“Perhaps. I don’t want to accuse the boy just because his parents have a reputation.”
“No, we wouldn’t want to blame the child for the sins of the parents,” said Leo with a smile.
“Or vice versa,” retorted Malcolm, albeit with a smile in his voice.
“Anyway,” Malcolm continued, “It is always possible that someone else has figured out how to shaped imbue. Harry hasn’t made any secret of her technique. If anything, she’s been disappointed that her new technique hasn’t become more widely adopted.”
“She did after all teach Lestrange,” muttered Leo, thinking back to the reports he’d received of Harry lunching with the pureblood Heir.
Leo made a note to speak to Harry about this, if he could. She had been extremely upset that day at the apothecary, and Lestrange had been there too; perhaps Lestrange had said something to her.
Leo didn’t want to pry if Harry wasn’t ready to share, but knowing what Lestrange was capable of could be important in the future. The Court’d had little luck finding Voldemort in the alleys, even though all evidence pointed to him being in the Cesspool.
“Anyway, I don’t yet have confirmation that the dark potion did require shaped imbuing. It’s entirely possible that it’s something else nasty, but it’s not something I can really ask any of the other masters to investigate.”
“Perhaps Severus?” Eleni suggested.
“That’s a possibility,” Malcom said thoughtfully. “His research brewing licence covers a whole range of nasty potions, and I know I can trust him with this.”
“Plus he’s brilliant,” added Leo almost automatically.
Both Hursts looked at their son with surprise .
“Perhaps I’ve been listening to Harry too much,” Leo muttered. “That’s what she always says.”
“Of course,” murmured Eleni. “That makes sense.”
Dammit, thought Leo. Ma definitely knows about Harry .
“What dear?” asked Malcolm.
“Oh, just something Harry said when she dropped some potions off at Maywell yesterday,” said Eleni, quickly deflecting. “Thanks for helping her with her New Wolfsbane licence, by the way. She’s brewing New Wolfsbane at cost for Maywell, and when I say at cost, I mean for the cost of the ingredients only. Harry doesn’t charge for time or magic, and I know the New Wolfsbane requires even more magic than the old recipe.”
Malcolm snickered as he got up to take his dirty crockery to the sink. “Don’t mention Maywell’s supplier to Krait; Harry’s brewing new Wolfsbane for him and making him charge cost-price for it too. He won’t be pleased to hear it’s available for free elsewhere.”
“Well, it should be free,” sniffed Eleni. “Wolfsbane protects the community as well as making it easier on the werewolf. Outrageous that the Ministry won’t subsidise it, and then makes it all but impossible for werewolves to get jobs that could cover the cost of it.”
“You don’t mind, Da, that Harry’s muscling in on your Wolfsbane business?” Leo asked curiously as he placed his own dirty dishes in the sink before clearing away his mother’s dirty crockery.
“Goodness, no,” said Malcolm with a smile. “I’ve been brewing it for long standing clients like Remus Lupin because too few potions masters can actually manage to brew it, but I much prefer to be able to spend time on my research. It’s hard enough managing the administrative duties of Aldermaster around my research without having to add monthly brewing into the equation.”
He looked pointedly at Leo. “Particularly when I find out that I’m also doing research into—how did you put it—the socio-economic impact of using cost-ineffective ingredients in vital medical cures.”
Leo fought back a blush.
“Not a bad research topic, actually,” smirked Malcolm.
Leo should have known that nothing much got past his father.
“Apropos of nothing, on a completely different topic, did you know that Harriett Potter has recently received her licence to brew Seifer’s Solution, in addition to her New Wolfsbane license?”
Yep, nothing much got past the Aldermaster.
“Harry did ask me for a list of potions that the clinic had trouble procuring,” Eleni said with a smile. “So I expect that she’ll probably be contacting you about getting licensed for other restricted potions in the future. I’d be very interested to read the report of your research, and I’m sure both Leo and Harry would too.”
“On a more serious note,” Malcolm said to Leo, “I don’t know how much James Potter has told his daughter—or if he even knows, for that matter—about some of the people that are unhappy with Harry, just because she’s been associated with Rigel Black.”
“Not much, I suspect,” replied Leo. “Although until recently she’s effectively been under house arrest, so maybe he thought it wasn’t necessary.”
Leo didn’t know much about the relationship between the Head Auror and his daughter, but Harry’s recent comments made him suspect that it was currently somewhat fraught.
“Well, you should know then, that there have been a number of people who’ve come to the Guild in search of Harry—and not because they want to support her.”
“Who?” Leo asked intently. “And why the Guild?”
“People want to lash out at someone. Sirius Black has long been known as a recluse and few know where to find Arcturus Black.”
“So that’s why Sirius stopped coming into St Mungos to volunteer,” said Eleni glumly, pouring some more juice. “I thought he just wanted to spend time with his son; I hadn’t realised that there might be more to it than that.”
“There’s not much known about Harry—but it is known that she’s a halfblood who was somehow involved in the Rigel Black saga and that she interned at the Guild almost two years ago.”
“And everyone knows where to find the Guild, so the Guild’s been getting hate mail for Harry. Poor girl,” said Eleni. “It’s so unfair.”
“Bigotry is never fair,” said Malcolm grimly. “And Magical Britain is full of bigots. But this is more than just the usual nutcases writing letters, although we’ve had plenty of those.”
He paused before continuing. “It’s the angry visitors who’ve been the most worrying. I didn’t think Herbert Flint knew where the potions guild was, but he’s been pretty persistent, turning up and demanding to see Harry, threatening all sorts of retribution.”
“Herbert Flint,” mused Eleni. “He holds the Flint lordship, doesn’t he?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I know some of his relatives,” Eleni replied darkly. “He’s not a nice man.”
“He’s a close minded and angry man,” Malcolm replied, “who can’t stand the idea that a halfblood could do better than a pureblood. Flint was less interested in Harry per se, it was more that he was looking for the nearest target to take his anger out on. But he’s been persistent, and not pleasant.”
“I’ll pass it on to Harry,” said Leo, “not that I’d expect that Harry would be likely to run into Lord Flint.”
It was possible that Harry could run into Flint’s son. The Flint Heir did visit the alleys, after all.
Leo turned to his mother. “Do you think Aled or any of his other relatives might know anything that could help?”
“I’ll ask,” replied Eleni. “But I doubt it.”
Unspoken between them was the knowledge that Flint’s former wife worked at Maywell and that the Flint Heir occasionally visited his mother there.
“Any others?” asked Leo.
“Christopher Goyle, Grantham Crabbe, Rick Johnston, and Clarence Pucey were vociferous and nasty, but nowhere near as persistent as Flint.”
“The irony of it all,” sighed Leo. “The least capable nobles—if I’m correct in assuming we’re talking about Lords Goyle and Crabbe here in addition to Lord Flint—are the ones most upset about their perceived superiority being questioned.”
“That’s not ironic, son,” said Malcolm dryly. “But it is unfortunate that their insecurity—understandable really, given that Rigel could trounce them easily—is manifesting in violence.”
“Whitaker must have been happier than a pig in mud with all those noble lords and SOW members flocking to the Guild,” commented Eleni. “Think of all the bootlicking opportunities.”
“Until I refused to let him throw Harry to the wolves. I much prefer consensus, but Edgar was stubborn. Unfortunately for him, I’m stubborn too, and I’m the Aldermaster; he’s not.”
“I take it that’s why you’ve been so busy attending all those society functions recently,” Eleni mused. “And working back at the Guild. I did hope you wouldn’t have to go through that again.”
Malcolm grimaced. “This time it’s precautionary. Edgar’s good at his public relations job, but luckily he’s not as good as he thinks at politicking. Nor does he have the strategic foresight to lead the guild. But I do have to make sure he’s not in a position to cause trouble, hence the hobnobbing at functions.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Regulus Black at any of those functions?” Leo asked. Of late, Regulus’s presence in the alleys had become worryingly frequent.
“Hmm. Surprisingly, no, given his SOW party affiliation and previous interest. However, he did come to the Guild trying to ferret information out on Harry. Why do you ask?”
“Master Black’s been in the Dancing Phoenix asking questions. He’s not nearly as subtle as he thinks, and I know he and Harry don’t get on.” Leo hid a scowl; he didn’t know how much Regulus understood about how the alleys worked, but it was fairly obvious that the SOW party member was passing information to Riddle.
Regulus had been spotted in other parts of the alleys too, but Leo wasn’t going to tell his father that. The fiction that Leo spent much of his time helping at Maywell kept everyone happy.
“I don’t suppose your dreadful desk divined any useful information from him?” Leo asked.
Malcolm sighed. “Regrettably not. Black’s a little too canny for that. He is a Ward Master. Fairly well versed in the Mind Arts too, I’d imagine. He didn’t hide his anger with Harry, his brother and his nephew, but overall he didn’t seem to wish Harry ill—at least not like the others did.”
“If you hear anything more about Master Black, or anyone else who may wish to harm Harry, please let me know,” Leo said earnestly.
“Of course, son. Although you could always come to the next gala as well,” said Malcolm slyly.
“I might well do that,” Leo mused. His parents exchanged a startled look.
“I suppose we could make it a family affair,” suggested Eleni thoughtfully. “You’ve been too good lately not hassling me about attendance, Malcolm; I expect I’m long overdue to put in an appearance.”
“You did come to the dinner for the spring equinox Quarterly Convocation of Craftspeople.”
“And then missed the summer a solstice dinner—even though the craftspeople are generally easier to deal with.”
“Not to worry, Eleni. I know lies irritate your magic, even the polite lies of society.”
“And the blood purism and sexism in British magical society irritates the rest of me.” She sighed. “Still, I’ve never shied away from doing what I must, and there’s unrest at all levels now, so it’s important to know what’s going on.”
That reminded Leo of the various protests he’d seen around the alleys of late. He’d better check in with Marek and Aled to make sure that things weren’t getting out of hand.
“Speaking of which,” said Leo with a not-entirely-forced yawn; unrest was exhausting, “I’d probably better be getting back to my place.”
“It was good to see you, Leo,” said Malcolm fondly. “Do drop by for dinner soon. And give our regards to Harry. Maybe next time you could even bring her along.”
“Perhaps,” said Leo with a smile, getting up and giving his parents a hug. “See you later, Ma, Da.”
Goodbyes complete, Leo headed off into the alleys. Keeping an eye on both the Upper and Lower Courts was challenging, but he’d do what he could to protect the alleys. He’d do what he had to to protect Harry.