Chapter 4
Harry entered Twilfitt and Tattings and liked it at once. Unlike Madam Malkins, this store had a cozy warmth to it, like it was someone's favorite sitting room. There was a fireplace on the right hand wall, with two wingback chairs and a short table between them in front of it. Across from the seating area was a low, well it looked like a box covered in some sort of carpet to Harry. He didn't have the slightest idea what to call it, but he assumed that it was some sort of place to stand while the tailor took the measurements like Madam Malkin had done for his school robes. Behind the, stand?, was a fancy cupboard where Harry assumed the cloth was stored. Across the back of the shop was a fancy curtain with a mild Notice-Me-Not on it.
The only reason that Harry could see through the spell was because he was intent on seeing everything in the shop and the spell wasn't that strong. It was more of a gentle suggestion than forcing someone not to see what it was hiding. "Welcome, welcome, young man! How can I assist you today?" A tall, skinny man with caramel skin and dreadlocks wearing a somehow flattering robe in gradient colors from blue to green that moved like ocean waves came out from behind the curtain. He did the obligatory glance at Harry's heir rings and scar, but unlike the others, he did nothing more than glance at them.
"Hello, I'm looking for new clothes, both the Hogwarts uniforms and casual clothes. I'm afraid that I outgrew everything that I owned by the end of term," Harry said.
"I see. You need an entire wardrobe then, and this?" the man gestured up and down at what Harry was wearing. "I see the top is cashmere, but where did you get that?"
"Harrod's," Harry said. "I have some business in the muggle world, so I went there first. My account manager recommended your shop on the wizarding side of things though."
"Ah, in that case, come up here and I'll get your measurements," the man said, gesturing to the stand. "My name is Mortimer, and I'll be your tailor today. Now, let's get the uniforms out of the way, shall we?" He gestured to the cupboard and several lengths of black fabric came flying out to hang in front of Harry and a tape measure began measuring him. "Now, as the uniform is standard in color, and I know that you are a Griffindor, the only thing for you to do is to choose your fabrics. From your choice in top I assume that you prefer warmer clothing?"
"It's freezing most of the school term, especially in History class. I know that Professor Binns is a ghost, but does he have to have his classroom as cold as the grave?" Harry asked exasperated.
"Oh, I well remember. I thought I would have icicles hanging off my nose by February," Mortimer sympathized. "Now, wool twill or vadmal for the robes and your cloak during the winter months, but what of warmer weather? I have linen and silk for hot days. Also, are you someone who choses to wear something underneath your uniform?" Mortimer asked, "Because if you do, I have lovely heavy silk for the allowed undershirt and hose."
"Can you make the undershirt and hose in cashmere?" Harry asked. "I've really come to like how it feels." He really had. It was the softest and warmest fabric he'd ever touched, much less worn. "And the heavy silk for the fall and spring?"
"Oh certainly," Mortimer said. "And for the shirts?"
"Silk and linen, I guess and wool and twill for the trousers and robes," Harry said. He'd heard Lavender go on and on about those fabrics in the common room. "Four shirts in each fabric, four pairs of trousers in each, five sets of the underthings, and can you add in growth charms? Because I don't want to have short trousers on the Hogwarts Express like I did this year."
"Certainly, now I warn you that those will only last a single year. You'll have to come back and get more every summer," Mortimer warned. "Now for formal robes."
Harry and Mortimer talked clothes and fabrics for close to two hours. Formal robes, casual robes for weekends, nightclothes, (Mortimer wanted to give him nightshirts and Harry flat out refused), dress robes which were different from formal robes, and cloaks, hats, gloves, scarves, socks, and boots. It was exhausting, but Harry left the shop with a full noble's wizarding wardrobe.
Harry got lunch at the Leaky, asking Tom for a private room so that he could put his purchases away in his new trunk. After he'd placed his new clothing in the wardrobe, Harry sat down to his lunch. He had a choice to make now. He had to get furniture. He could get it in London, but then he'd have to shrink it down and that would get him in trouble. No, his best bet was to look for second hand shops here in Diagon. Then he could go to London and get things to set up his kitchen, food and all of the pots and pans and such.
Harry took a few more bites of his fish and chips and then realized something. Muggle camping gear. He could buy some of that, and then carry the stuff down into his trunk. He had seen adverts on the telly from some camping store, with hammocks and a bunch of kitchen stuff strewn around a portable stove. He'd always wanted to try sleeping in a hammock, if only because the very idea of camping out of doors would horrify his muggle family. He could spread the purchases around too, so that no one realized that he was buying much more than a twelve, almost thirteen year old should. After all, he only had to wait two more years and a month or so before he turned fifteen and could claim his lordships. That's when everything would change and he could stock his trunk with real furniture and no one would even blink at it.
Before heading back out into Muggle London, Harry went and finished his wizarding shopping - his nutrient potions from the apothecary, owl treats for Hedwig, a completely new set of potion ingredients, an appointment to get new glasses for two days from now, and most importantly - books. He scoured Flourish and Blotts in the time that he allotted himself for extra books on potions and wizarding customs and then he left, with the book catalog in his pocket. With so much to catch up on, he knew that he'd be spending all of his spare time on this. At least he would have most of the summer to himself.
Harry put his purchases away, shrunk his trunk, and then left Diagon. He spent the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening shopping in muggle London. When he finished, the trunk was completely stocked and he was on the final leg of his trip. Of all the places that he'd inherited, by blood, conquest or by gift, the only one that he'd really caught the address of during that inheritance test was The Potter's Shed. It appeared to be a small house in Rye, near the Mermaid Tavern, if he'd read the maps he got during the day right.
It was too late in the evening to catch the train to Rye, so Harry summoned the Knight Bus and had them drop him off in front of the tavern. He was exhausted, but quite happy to finally be in Rye. He had written the address down, and carefully comparing the house numbers, Harry searched for the building.
To be quite honest, he stumbled upon it. He had just seen the Rye Pottery down the street when he hit a strong anti-muggle ward. It was on par for the one at the Leaky, and as Harry had spent a great deal of time lately going in and out of the old pub, he quickly recognized the feeling. The home was typical of the street, being a half timbered Tudor home with a tile roof. The sign saying The Potter's Shed and the fact that Hedwig was sitting on it was what clinched the deal though.
There was no door handle to The Potter's Shed's front door, only a carved mug on the door itself. Harry placed his hand on it, and his Potter heir ring grew warm. The door opened silently and Harry walked in, with Hedwig flying in after him. She ended up perching on a window seat as there were no furnishings. "Well Hedwig, it's looks like we've found our home for the summer," he said and pulled out his trunk.
Opening the trunk, he picked up Hedwig and climbed down, closing the lid as he went. He set Hedwig on the perch and filled up the bowls with owl treats and water. "Do you like it? I'm sure I can get you something else from the store if you want, but this one lets you in and out through the owl access," he told her.
Hedwig cooed, preened Harry's hair and settled down for a nap. Harry was glad that she seemed to like her new perch. He'd read that snowy owls liked to nest in holes in trees near the ground. He'd have to ask the clerk at the Owl Emporium about a proper nest for her the next time he was in the store. Harry looked over at the piles of bags in the living area and sighed. At least his hammock should be fairly easy to set up. He grabbed the box it came in and the bags that held the pillow and blankets. The rest, he reasoned could wait until morning.
The next day Harry spent the, (very), early morning putting away his purchases from the day before. After everything was put away and he'd made himself a quick breakfast, he left the trunk and The Potter's Shed for the train station. He had to get to the Leaky by nine o'clock, so that he could be there in time to meet with Professor McGonagall along with everyone else. He took with him a couple of his old school books, as he was revising the first and second year now that Dumbledore wasn't interfering with his ability to do school work. He had an hour long train ride to get back to London and he might as well use the time wisely.
---
Hermione sat on her living room couch watching her father and Ron sit on the floor by the coffee table while he attempted to explain the various ways that muggles got their news to Ron, from newspapers to news reports on the telly to news sites on the computer. The computer was the hardest for Ron to understand, but he was stubbornly pushing through, determined to understand something so alien to the life he'd lived up until now. The idea that people had to be responsible with their news reporting was as much of a new concept to him as the world wide web. She was waiting for her turn at the newspapers that her parents had delivered to their home, both the muggle ones and the Daily Prophet, and going over her homeschooling assignments for the day when her mother gasped from where she was sitting in her knitting chair.
"Mum?" Hermione asked as her father and Ron looked up from their lesson.
"Professor Dumbledore has been arrested by the Goblins for theft from a minor and attempted line-theft," her mother said, pouring over the article. "Why on earth would the Goblins be arresting him?"
"That's because it's part of our treaty with the Goblin nation," Ron said seriously. "If they have proof of any sort of theft, they're the ones who punish the offender. That's why they have that sign on their bank buildings. My brother Bill works as a curse-breaker for Gringotts and he says that the worst offenders are put to work cleaning out the dragon pits to pay back whatever they stole. The offender has an even odds chance of making it out alive, because dragons are so bloody dangerous and they've usually got a very large debt to pay off. For attempted line-theft, Dumbledore's not going to make it out, especially at his age."
"What is line-theft?" her father wanted to know.
"Any and all titles, properties, businesses, and assets belonging to a house, of any ranking but especially one of the noble or most ancient and noble ones, being given to the thief instead of the rightful heir. Such as arranging for the heir to be killed off and the thief being named the heir's heir or some such," Ron explained. "He probably did something to one of the war orphans, and seeing as how the headmaster is legally the magical guardian of those who do not have a magical guardian and attend the school, it wouldn't be difficult for him to do. Mind you, if you'd said anything like this before this year I'd have never believed it, but after what he's done to Harry, making him go back to his aunt and uncle, I wouldn't put anything past him."
"Harry said that his uncle was under investigation," her mother said slowly.
"That'd be it then," Ron nodded. "Dumbledore's probably got a charge of attempting to create an obscurial as well."
"What's an obscurial?"
"When a magical kid is abused and punished for having magic, they tend to kind of squash their magic down inside them until it explodes," Ron explained. "It's not the kid's fault, but if their magic is strong enough they can level a small town in the sort of destruction an obscurial can create. It's one of the high crimes in the wizarding world."
"You think that Harry was being abused," her father said matter-of-factly.
"My brothers and I rescued him from his aunt and uncle's home last summer, just before term started. There were iron bars on his bedroom window, he was locked in his room with several locks, there was a cat flap set into his door so they could slide a food tray into his room to feed him, which they weren't doing much of from the look of him, and they had taken his school things and locked them up in a boot cupboard," Ron said with a glare at the coffee table. "I don't know if they were hitting him or not, but from what I saw, I think that it could very well have happened, and Dumbledore made him go back."
Hermione closed her eyes. "He said that he didn't have phone privileges at his aunt and uncle's home. That's why he was going to Gringotts, so he could get some money to call me from a pay phone."
"Don't worry, Hermione," Ron said, patting her hand. "If his uncle's under investigation, then Harry'll be fine. We can ask him about it when we meet him at the Leaky."
"You're right," Hermione said, and tried to relax.
"Can you explain what you mean by house, Ron?" her father asked.
"It's like this, we're all subjects of the queen, and the royal family has always known about their magical subjects. The magical nobles do have titles in the muggle world, but most these days ignore those titles. Each of those noble families, from the title holder down to the newest baby is part of what we call a house or a line. Inheritance is pretty much the same as it is in the muggle world, but you've got to have magic to inherit a magical lord or ladyship. Now even if there isn't a title, a family is still known as a house.
"For instance, if Hermione marries a muggleborn, and then they have children, her husband and her children would be of House Granger, as long as her husband took her name. Younger sons can start their own houses, especially if they have the means to do so, and that is often called a minor or branch house if the founder is a child of a noble. That's the position that Charlie, Percy and I are in. My eldest brother Bill will inherit the Weasley title and the twins will inherit the Prewitt title from our mother's line. Her older brothers died in the war, so their title goes to the next set of twins born to the line. The rest of us have the opportunity to found a minor house, but there are requirements like gaining some property and having some sort of legacy to pass down," Ron explained.
"And if I met those requirements?" Hermione asked archly.
"Then you'd go from having a house to a minor house," Ron said with a grin. "Mind you, I think that you're going to end up having someone wrapped around your fingers while you take over the world, so no problems there."
"Next Minister of Magic perhaps?" her mum teased.
"Oh without question," her father joined in.
"Easily," Ron agreed.
"Please, like I'd ever go into politics, " Hermione huffed. "I'm going to found the first wizarding university."
"The wizarding world doesn't have a university?" her mum asked, shocked. "How do they do advanced learning?"
"Apprenticeships for the most part," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Which means that you get the usual problems with that sort of learning; students having to pay large amounts so that only nobles really get a chance, getting a teacher that really wants a servant rather than a student, masters who want to squash any competition, etc. I'd love to hire Professor Snape to teach advanced potions."
"Why would you want to hire him? He's a git," Ron scoffed.
"Because he doesn't want to teach at Hogwarts, of course," Hermione said. "That's why he's such a terrible teacher. He's in a position of teaching people who don't care about his subject and he hates it."
"How do you figure?" Ron wanted to know.
"First, his speech to our first potion class where he said that most of the kids he teaches are dunderheads. Second, because he's been publicly going after the Defence Against the Dark Arts position for years. It's cursed, and everyone knows it. He wants to get hit with the curse. Otherwise he'd just create a DADA defence club," Hermione said.
"That's a good point," her father said.
Ron nodded. "I never thought about that. You're right. He'd probably be better with teaching people who were trying to get their masteries than kids who are just learning how to hold a stirring rod."
Hermione frowned. "I asked Professor McGonagall about advanced learning in the wizarding world and what classes I would need for certain professions, and that's when I found out about the apprentice system. I was very put out to find out that I couldn't go for multiple masteries without going through a lot of unnecessary and redundant work."
"So of course you've decided that the wizarding world needs a university," her mother smiled at her. "I think that's a great idea."
"Ron, does your mum have her mastery yet?" Hermione asked.
"What do you mean?" Ron stared at her blankly.
"I was hoping that she had a mastery so that I could hire her to teach too," Hermione said. "You have seven kids in your family and now that Ginny is in school, she's got a lot of free time."
"Um, I think she was working on one before Bill was born, but I'm not sure she ever got anywhere with it," Ron said. "I'll have to write to her and ask. What mastery are you going to get so you can run your school?"
Hermione snorted. "I'm not going to get a mastery, or at least I'm not going to get one right away. I'm going to get a muggle teaching mastery or as muggles call it, a teaching degree. Once I'm a teacher, then I'll get the university running, and then I'll get a mastery; runes perhaps or healing, or both. Anyway, I'm not certain just what mastery I want to get yet. I'll figure that part out later, but I am interested in the genetics of magic."
"So that's why you're doing muggle schooling too. What are genetics?" Ron asked.
"Genetics or DNA are the building blocks of everything alive. They dictate such things as hair color, eye color, how tall you are, how your body is put together, how smart you are, and inbreeding causes bad genetics to build up so you get things like insanity, infertility, and I'm pretty sure, squibs," Hermione said.
"Squibs? Really?" Ron asked.
Hermione nodded. "I've got a theory that muggleborns are descended from squibs that were cast out. It could take a life time to prove that though."
"Definitely a healing mastery," Ron said with emphasis. "And if your theory is right, you need to take an inheritance test at Gringotts. There's a famous magical line that squibbed out about a hundred years ago, the Dagworth-Grangers. You could be the first witch born from that family in all that time."
"It might be worth checking," her father offered.
"We'll see," her mother said. "We've got a lot of summer ahead of us. Now Ron, explain the telly to me."
---
Minerva McGonagall sighed, and looked around the great hall. Every table there was filled with files and reports. The most urgent, that of those covering the last ten years, were on the teacher's table, and the rest of the staff were placing what she hoped were the last ones at the Ravenclaw table. "That's everything they've asked for?" she asked Nolby, the head house-elf of Hogwarts.
"All be ready, Mistress Kitty. Reports all be ready for Founder's Heirs, even reports Dumbles be hiding," Nolby said proudly. "Old master Dumbles, he make Hogwarts bad place for too long. Founder's Heirs make things right again. Lots of new children, new teachers, make lots of work for Hogwarts elves." The old house-elf looked positively gleeful.
"Well, they certainly did promise to shake things up," Minerva said. "All right, Nolby, I want you to accompany me to the Leaky Cauldron along with another house-elf to assist you." She waved her wand and the piles of reports began flying up into the air, shrinking as they did so, and slotting themselves neatly into her carry case. She then gathered up her cloak and pointed hat from her chair at the head table, and grabbing the carry case once she had them on.
"As for the rest of you," Minerva turned to look at the assembled staff. "I have absolutely no idea what I'm walking into. What I am certain of is that things are going to change a great deal in the next few months; either because the heirs change it or because I will. I will need all of you to make yourselves available for the summer. I don't know when I'll need to call on you, just that I will need to speak to each of you at least once before the start of the new term, and most likely there will be weekly meetings. That's because one thing in that letter was absolutely correct; we need to bring Hogwarts back up to snuff. I'll be counting on all of you to do your best to help me push things in that direction." She turned to Nolby. "Alright, Nolby, let's go." Nolby took her hand and popped her away.