Lovely Lie

Coaxing Kan away from their brand-new snug, squishy fort is not a chore. The reason for the obedience – namely the feeling the child exudes of if this is maybe the punishment for their “lack of patience and independence” – is, though. As in, Harry must figure out how to convince them that they did no wrong in asking him for a little snack or even a full meal and do it as soon as possible.

Still, for now, he doesn’t have to expend much time and energy in getting Kan and a sleeping Teddy out of the bedroom that he has decided to lend to Fee for the “night”, and he is grateful for it.

Leaving Fee to the latter’s sleep with a ready-meal and a bottle of water waiting on the desk for when the other youth next wakes up, after he has extracted a promise from the lump not to snoop anywhere and piled supplies for himself, Teddy and Kan in Teddy’s mobile bed, he pads outside with Teddy in one arm and Kan as well as the mobile bed trailing after him. The child carefully bears the stack of wardstones in their long, spindly arms with a stern reminder to put those gently on the floor should they feel they could no longer carry the potentially dangerous granit slabs.

“Pitching up” the ward-bubble proves unexpectedly easy. But Harry James Potter has always done better in a practical lesson, anyway, and Aleksei did teach him very practically. So, in hindsight, why should this fact change?

This gives him an idea, though: He needs to learn how to carve and imbue runes for various purposes, as soon as possible, if he wants to continue using magic without attracting hysterical attention like how Fee reacted to a stupid enlarging charm. The range of things he can do will be more limited, no doubt, but it’ll also no doubt be discreet, and discretion is so very important while he knows nothing of this place – of this galaxy – and everything in it, especially the people in it and what they wish to do with him and his.

So, finished with the warding, he scoops Kan into his free arm, casts a wordless, wandless locking spell on the tent’s doorflap, checks that the bathroom door is open but the second storeroom is locked – he does not trust Fee to keep the latter’s word not to snoop as he demanded, but it’s not a reason for him to be rude and uninvite Fee to use the bathroom whenever the latter needs it – then slips into the one he now dubs the “gateway room” and locks its door behind him in the same fashion. A short perusal of the shelves – courtesy of his own childhood habbit of seeking solace in the library, Hermione and her obsession with books, and the recent attempt of a few of the residents to rearrange the storage of the trunks – nets him the trunk he wants, and down it goes on the spot that for so long held the one for the tropical orchard.

Unlike so many other trunks that contain each an entire environment of its own, whether it’s a dirt, sandy, plains, forest, mushroom-field, freshwater or seawater farm, the “house trunk” contains bubbles of different environments which in turn contain houses of various sizes, builts and landscapes in them. The bubbles are permeable, though it’s unpleasant to pass through one such when he tried it, when he visited what he dubs as Ewan’s home, whatever else the man repeatedly insisted about it. But he needn’t do that right now, anyway. He just means to go to Ewan’s to deposit the little ones in a room they can sleep and play in, take care of himself for a little while by showering and resting, and catch up with the family living there, before visiting Aleksei in Black Farm through a Doorway to ask the man if he could learn from the latter.

Well, he manages to do the first step. Teddy is still asleep and Kan is quite sleepy, so he just has to move the supplies away and deposit Teddy in the baby’s bed that he then puts by the pillow on the overly big bed the Gradies say are his. Then he takes a quick shower in the attached bathroom and lies down on the bed itself, humming songs from deep in his chest while Kan has their tresses all over it until the child plonks right into slumber.

The Gradies express their worries, when he slips out of the bedroom after some time and meets them in the living-room. It’s understandable, and he explains himself in lieu of a promise not to do it again, as he doubts he will be able to keep it. The discussion that ensues also sparks a new project for the residents: not just learning a totally new language and an entirely new galaxy for the sake of their continued survival, not just tallying up all the resources and making a fair system for internal economy and wellfare, but also coming up with a practical but unobtrusive means of communication between him and the residents while the latters are stowed in their respective pocket dimensions.

But then Ewan takes Mitchell to visit the market that the wellfare team is apparently experimentally holding in the trunk containing the Potter sheep farm that used to be located in New Zealand, and mayva straightens up in their absence, gazing with quite unexpected seriousness and solemnity at Harry, as if about to impart a sacred secret, and all Harry can think of is, `Oh, no. What now?`

He is sadly vindicated a moment after, when, after beginning the tale with the fact that Ewan married into the family that had been Potter servants for centuries, she proceeds to tell him that there is actually another hidden people that none of the others ever know – not the Potter servants nor the Black ones at large, neither even their lords and ladies except for very select few in each generation, or even skipping a generation or two.

“Lady Andromeda Black the First took pity on Muggleborn children and took them in,” she continues calmly in the face of Harry’s gawping expression. “She and her husband – Lord Harold Potter the Second – raised them and taught them what they needed in a generous patch of land, hidden from Muggles and Wizarding folks alike. They became specialised servants for Houses Black and Potter, and their duties beside that were to continuously learn, so that they could serve better, and to find other Muggleborn children to rescue, so that more children would be safe from the cruelty of those who were supposed to be their loved ones.”

Then, with a small, proud smile, she declares, “My parents are of this folk, and I was sent out to learn more about the outside world for us to improve ourselves, also to gather Muggleborn children who are in danger from their own families, just like a few others. We are largely no longer Black or Potter servants in practise in the last almost a century, not since the last of the descendents of Lady Andromeda and Lord Harold died heirless in the war against Grindlewald, and not since the Houses degenerated in their own ways, but it is not a reason to abandon our other duties. It is not a reason for us to abandon our secrets, as well. I married outside of the community, unlike our custom, but Ewan knows there are things I can’t tell or show or even hint at him. He thinks I am a spy for a country somewhere, and I do not dissuade him of it, and it is completely your decision, whether you will permit anyone to know about it or not, including him.”

Then the smile turns rather self-conscious and hopeful, and she pauses a little as if to gather herself – it’s the first ever break in her rehersed narration, although it doesn’t really break her composure – before she finishes with, I managed to coordinate with the other residents of the Sanctuary who were also out and about, when Lady Granger came to this townhouse and informed me and Ewan about your sentencing, and I have been keeping the Sanctuary secret and safe with me until now. And, now that you are more settled, I thought that it would be a good time to introduce you to the others, if you would like it, my lord? Or, if you would rather wait, I will only pass along the journals of Lady Andromeda and Lord Harold that we have been keeping safe and cared for for their descendents, and I will not ask again until and unless you would ask it.”

Harry frowns, and valiantly tries to prevent it from ballooning into an outright scowl.

The story sounds iffy. Not Mayva’s honesty, no, except when she told him of her reason for delaying, neither the details on a cursory perception. But if he really thinks on it….

“I’d like to read the journals first, please,” he mentions quietly. “If you think they’re good to handle, and I won’t just be ruining some artefacts you hold dear.”

`Damn. I won’t be able to start studying runes in earnest any time soon, it seems, or even have some rest.`

But chasing down this iffy feeling is more important for now, he is pretty sure of it.

And he finds out why when the two leather-bound books have been delivered promptly to him and he’s retreated back to his bed, to the thankfully still-asleep Kan and Teddy.

Well, he would rather not have read them, to be honest to himself, but in a way he is also glad that he has read the detailed, unvarnished accounts of the doers before he meets the descendents of their… victims.

Because Andromeda Black I kidnapped the Muggleborn children Mayva mentioned, and brainwashed them into seeing her, her husband and the Purebloods as saviours for individuals who were so much below their station. And then Harold Potter II, with his apparently Potter-specific talent of moulding, helped make it stick by moulding the people to the image they wished for: obedient but free-thinking enough to improve and develop and come up with innovations in ways to serve their lady and their lord, dilligent, earnest, aware and able to conduct themselves as servants of nobility, and – above all, of course – loyal to only their lady and lord.

And the people-moulding was a gift from Harold to Andromeda.

A Potter. Gifting brainwashed slaves to his wife.

It confuses and horrifies Harry more than when he found that his Potter father was a school bully, and that his godfather nearly committed murder by werewolf to a school nemesis. And it nauseates him on par with how he nearly killed Draco Malfoy in their sixth year.

Kan is confused when they wake and their guardian refuses to play with them, just curl up miserably on the bed. They ask why, because he never refused before. But how could he tell them about this? Would they even understand? And, if they understood, would they be afraid of him – or worse, disgusted – that his ancestors did this and he might follow them?

Admittedly, and shamefully, he feels selfish enough not to tell Kan anything of it, given that.

And one of the ways to do so is to distract the child, grant their wish in some way.

So, reluctantly and mechanically, he gets up and retrieves the small, plastic inflatable ball he stuffed inside the waistbag before coming here, inflates it, hands it over to Kan with a warning to keep their claws from digging into the ball as those will ruin it, and shows them how to bounce it lightly against the wall and floor. He even plays catch with them for a little while, against his expectation and even wish, as their apparent joy – practisedly silent as it is powerfully infectious.

Still, he is reminded all over again when Mayva knocks at the door to their room and softly calls that snacks are ready, “Should you and your family wish to partake of it, my lord,” and a meal could even be whipped up quick if he’d rather eat something heavier.

He never noticed before, how subservient and formal she is compared to Ewan, who is just… respectful, and rather laid-back.

`Are the others in her community also like this? It’d be a nightmare to interact with them for more than a minute, if so! Could I do something about it? Would they just… interpret it as an order? Ooh, it’d be more of a nightmare!`

He pauses in the middle of catching the ball, which proceeds to bounce against his forehead, and scowls to himself, eyes down.

Then he looks up, and finds Kan staring hopefully at the closed door, perhaps having caught the word “snacks”, that bottomless pit.

Well, he has no other choice, now, especially since Teddy is stirring and will no doubt demand a meal and a change soon. So he picks up the ball and deposits it on the bed and calls back to Mayva while he’s at it, with a teasing lilt aimed at his ward at the end, “A meal would be nice, thank you, but snack’s good, too. Kondo’s pretty hungry, seems like, so the quicker they eat the better.”

And the child knows that they are being teased, judging by their pout and protesting noise, which is a very alien combination indeed of a chitter and a yelp, even though their presence in his mind feels contrarily warm and contented.

Sadly, the levity recedes, as expected, when Harry brings Teddy – mobile bed and all – and leads Kan out of the room, and sees that Mayva is already waiting just across the hall from the door, greeting them with a warm little smile and a courtsy and an equally warm, “Please follow me, my lord.”

She glances at Kan, then, and seems torn or perhaps confused, perhaps of how to address them, since English has no ungendered terms for nobility and royalty. But Harry is much more inclined to address another thing, rather than fuel more of her formalities.

And he addresses it when Mayva has served the three of them their respective meals at the table, giving him the chance to observe how she works and behaves towards him and his little family.

“If I might ask,” he begins. “Why the total secrecy?”

She gives him another small smile for that, and answers easily, “We would be targets, if the Pureblood we served knew that we were Muggleborn. Also, when the last descendent of the Lady’s line retracted our services from the Houses, many of them were… displeased, and utter secrecy and seclusion were the only way we could be safe. The custom simply continued, after that. Now it is completely your decision, whether we should abandon this law, as we are no longer on Earth, you and young Master Teddy are the only Potter and Black present, and, pardon my assumption, but it seems that you do not agree with the Pureblood and Muggleborn divide.”

He scowls again, remembering the stupid fight between Black and Potter farm workers regarding the Potters’ werewolf employees, and shakes his head emphatically, even as his hand darts out to catch Kan’s before the latter can give an idle Teddy a de-winged and de-stinged bee.

“Don’t play with your food, child,” he admonishes the little menace, verbally and mentally. “You do know Teddy doesn’t eat insects, don’t you?”

Kan’s sheepish expression – lowered gaze, curled end of tresses, slightly hunched shoulders, plus a little meeping sound – draws an exasperated sigh out of the depths of his lungs and a small giggle from Mayva… which is not at all what he knows of how servants should respond to things, which is actually sourced just from observing the house-elves and from his own stint as the Dursleys’ personal servant and… punching bag, for lack of a better term, and makes him actually hopeful about the collective psyche and level of servitude of her people.

It lasts until, having finished eating their fill and freshening up in the attached bathroom of Harry’s room, the little family troop after Mayva out of the trunk altogether. She proceeds to fish a shrunken trunk out of the ornamented mokeskin pouch-pendant dangling from the necklace she wears, enlarges it after shrinking the other one by Harry’s permission – it’s quite large compared to any of the others! – and leads the trio down the new trunk.

And, when Harry, Teddy and Kan arrive at the bottom of the lift, they find Mayva standing to the side of the lift, out of the way but still present, and lots more people crowding the space beyond it, obscuring any features of the environment contained here.

And, upon beholding Harry, they drop to their knees as one.

Even Mayva.

Gladly, at that, it seems, judging by the feeling in the air and their joyful smiles and the warm chorus of, “Lord Black-Potter!”

`Merlin! To think that I thought they’re not at all house-elf-like! Now what should I do? How do I get them to treat me like me?`

He huffs softly, and acutely feels how Kan – who has ducked into the folds of his cloak – is clinging to his calf from behind, tight enough for the bony little frame to dig into his flesh past his dragonskin outer trousers from all sides.

`No. Later, later. Deal with the kneeling first! And Kan. And what these people want from me.`

So he politely asks them to please stop kneeling. And they rise. But they’re still sporting various happy looks. And now they also look expectant. At him.

`Oh, Merlin! What do they want from me now? I don’t know how to lord! I didn’t even know they existed before!`

And, now, probably stirred by his panic that he can’t contain only to himself, Fee stirs up from a deep, exhausted slumber and… pings his mind – for lack of a better term – with query-worry-`Need me?`, while Teddy stops being a happy baby in his arms and begins to whimper.

`Damn it!`

He nods at the expectant crowd in front of him, jerkily and far from lordly, pings back safe-`No worries` at Fee, tries to draw inward to spare his poor – if rather uninvited – mindmates – from his panic, and motions Mayva closer.

“You didn’t tell me they’d be waiting,” he hisses lowly, crossly, nervously, and… well, panickedly at her, once she gets close enough. The glances he throws the now-curious crowd are hint enough to the rest of his unsaid words, he hopes, because even just this has taken all that he has to let out.

And she has the gall to look baffled on his accusation.

The following, “They had been looking forward to this moment for centuries, my lord, so of course they wished to welcome you,” really doesn’t help.

“What do they expect of me? I don’t know how to be a lord at all!” he huffs, and glares at her with irritation and exasperation mixed well with lots of dread, which apparently makes not a few among the crowd concerned, which makes him feel guilty and even more horrible, which sends Teddy into full-on crying and Fee into adrenaline-fuelled wakefulness, which only makes him feel guiltier….

And now he wants to cry, himself.