Reaching Out
Warning for: past slavery
St. Mungo’s Hospital, 31st October 1999
“Ah… Finch-Fletchley? You work here?”
“As a healer assistant, Potter. Healer Smethwick was kind enough to take me in, but not as an apprentice.”
I grimace. At the pins-and-needles sensation that results from Justin cleaning the aweful gash on my left side that one of the runaway unmarked Death Eaters managed to graze me with, but also at the hint that, as a Muggleborn, he has few – if any – doors open to him here in the magical world, regardless of his qualifications. It happens in the Auror Corps, too.
“Ever tried studying overseas?” I offer tentatively, groaning and gritting my teeth as he gently packs a healthy dollop of a rangy-brown, pungent-smelling salve into the gash.
“Not yet. I will. Not holding much hope, though,” he bites out. “Now don’t go dirtying this out or washing it away before it settles in or the wound is healed. If you do, I’ll advise Healer Smethwick to give you the most unpleasant examination ever.”
I grin despite the pain and his uninviting air. “Have time next weekend? I know so little about the mundane world, and Hermione’s off doing Unspeakable things. You up to being a tour guide? I’m bringing Teddy with me. You know, Professor Lupin’s son. I promise he won’t spray food on you.”
He shoos me away with a huff.
But I do spy a small smile flitting past his lips.
Success.
Black Sanctuary, 25th December 1999
Being so long and so far removed from the main civilisation, Andromeda’s slaves and their descendents – former slaves, if I have any say in it, and I do –have created their own, apparently.
Christmas or Yuletide hasn’t been part of it, somehow, although the birthday of their current lord or lady – who is not Lord Black, but rather Andromeda’s “worthy” descendents – is always celebrated, including mine this year. But this year onward, I hope to introduce them to the joys of giving and receiving gifts on this certain day, like I was introduced to in my first year at Hogwarts. Hence my presence here this morning, before Neville, Hannah and Susan come to celebrate with me, Andy and Teddy at Grimmauld Place. Andy refused to come with me, citing that this is to be my special time with whom she claims as my people, so here I am, standing alone on the porch with shrunken trunks of various gifts in my robe pocket, all of them hand-made by me through all these months.
And, from the forest, a horde of children run eagerly towards me, still much more silent than ordinary children would be but grinning wildly. The teens and adults follow suit, although in a more reserved manner… but still!
I grin back at them and yell out enthusiastically once they are near enough, “Presents! Raise your hands if you want one!”
And they all raise their hands, with bright looks on their faces.
Success.
Months of careful approach and me trying to convince them that I never mean ill to them, and they trust me now.
I hate being the focus of attention, especially by so many people like this, but this scene is worth it.
Black Sanctuary, 1st January 2000
“You’re their king, aren’t you, Harry?” Susan smiles suddenly, in-between enjoying her bowl of butter pudding.
I raise an eyebrow, while chewing my bite-sized steak slowly, buying myself more time.
“What made you say that?” I say at last, when she raises her own eyebrow, looking quite amused and even smug.
She looks round exaggeratedly, in response, a small grin fixed firmly on her face. I needn’t follow her gaze to affirm what’s going on, as I already looked round myself many times over this evening.
The residents of Black Sanctuary invited me, my family and also my trusted companions to celebrate New Year Day with them. They confessed that they have been learning as much as they can all these months since I “allowed” them to venture outside, and they noticed that the turning of the new year is apparently special for “the Outsiders,” hence the invitation, days after I surprised them with gifts for Christmas. And here we are: Andy, Teddy, Neville, Hannah, Susan and I, seated at a luxurious and comfortable table set on a dais in a snowy clearing deep in the forest, plied with various small-portioned foods and warming drinks, while various residents parade in front of us, performing many magical and mundane things for our entertainment.
And the performers never fail to bow deeply before the table – or rather, as Neville pointed out just before Susan spoke up, before me – before they vacate the clearing for the next batch to show off.
I won’t deign Susan with an affirmation, though. That would just be like inviting trouble to come to my home and roost there!
Grimmauld Place no. 12, 14th February 2000
“Ginny isn’t coming, dear?”
“No. I broke up with her that day, Andy. Didn’t I tell you?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Oh, sorry. Slipped my mind, I suppose. With all the training and my own studies….”
“It’s all right, Harry. Now, are you still friends with her?”
“I suppose. She sent me invitations to watch her matches with the Harpies, at any rate. But things always came up just when I was gearing up to go.”
“Well, we can go watch a game today, I think. The Harpies happen to be playing the Tornados.”
“Matchmaking me, Andy?”
“Wouldn’t think of it, my lord. Just helping you maintain good connections, my lord.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. Andy looks so impish, with her bright, laughing eyes and small, mischievous grin. Like this, she looks so different from her sister Bellatrix.
“No matchmaking.” I wag a finger at her with mock severity. “Teddy needn’t be exposed to such… uncooth behaviour.”
We break up in chortles, then. More, when Teddy, seated in his high chair, looks back and forth between the two of us, puzzled.
Damn. I love them.
Black Sanctuary, 31st July 2000
“Whoa,” I gape when Chilla, the girl who first approached me here more than a year ago, presents me with an open wooden box full of…, “Are those crystal balls?” for my birthday.
She courtsies and smiles shyly, with all the other residents standing behind her, silent with hopeful anticipation. “The Lady and Lord devised memory crystals to store subjects that we must learn about to aid the masters and mistresses we were assigned to, my lord,” she explains a little diffidently. “We were taught as children to order and utilise our minds, aside from other things that would help us maintain a household, so that we could make use of the memory crystals safely and well when we attained the age of majority at seventeen years old.”
“I overheard my lord talking about not having enough time to learn everything.” She is kneeling and trembling a little, now, sounding and looking much more unsure than before. “I…. Well, we gathered knowledge from some of our own memory crystals and various Outsider masters for you, my lord. Please, we mean no offence. We just meant to help you.”
“Oh, nice!” I exclaim, forcing myself to display cheerfulness in the face of her – and the others’ – fear of offending me. “I don’t know Occlumency, though, if that’s what you meant, so sadly I can’t use these. But if you’ve got a memory crystal for that, it’d be great!”
Her smile is back – success. But she’s still kneeling – damn it. So, “Are we having this party while kneeling? It wouldn’t be a good party, then, would it? How would you dance while kneeling? I think Neville looked forward to dancing with you. I looked forward to this party, myself.” Sorry, Neville, Hannah, but I can’t dance, and I shan’t make this sweet girl think I’m deliberately harming her by stepping on her toes while dancing.
Aaaand, she stands up. Woo-hoo!