My People, My Family
Credit to: again, somebody who came up with the nickname “Much-Poshly” for Justin Finch-Fletchley, and please tell me if you know who the author is, thanks
Warning for: mild swearing
Black Sanctuary, 31st July 2002
“Welcome to Black Sanctuary, Mione.”
“Ooh, it’s a beautiful place, Harry.”
“The people who live here take well care of the place. It’s their home, after all.”
“So the house got extended inside, I suppose?”
“Huh?”
“The place this big, Harry, I doubt only a few people can take care of it, let alone this well, even if they use magic, or house-elves, but the house isn’t that big. I mean, it’s not big enough to house… thirty people, at least, without them bunking with each other all the time. There are lots of windows that I can see, yes, but many of them don’t seem to lead to bedrooms.”
“Huh.”
“Just ‘huh’?”
“Yes, that. – Remember, Mione, keep an open mind, and don’t break your oath. If the people who live here want to invite you in, it’s their decision, not mine, not yours.”
But you’re the owner of this place….”
I raise an eyebrow and regard her silently.
Hermione opens her mouth, closes it again after a beat, flushes and looks away.
“They are people, Mione,” I tell her, fiercely but in a low tone. “If they want to tell you about themselves, it’s their decision. If they want to invite you in, it’s their decision. All that I’ll do is inviting you to the house, like I planned to, and the party will be held there, anyway. So please respect them, and please respect me by not harassing them. I swore to protect them, after all.”
Then I deliberately lighten my tone, quirking a teasing smile at her in the meantime. “’Sides, I doubt you’d like to leave the library once I show you that. The first owner of this place collected interesting manuscripts that the library at Grimmauld Place doesn’t have.”
She huffs out a breath, frowns, but soon enough a smile creeps reluctantly to her face. Success.
“Well, now,” I grin, then lob a bouncy ball I’ve just conjured behind my back at her head.
It hits, and bounces.
And she runs after me, in no time at all, squealing with quite-apparent exasperation.
Now, isn’t it a good beginning for a good birthday party?
Black Sanctuary, 25th December 2002
“Your family is growing, Harry,” Luna smiles as she looks round, perhaps noticing Hermione mingling with a few newly adopted children near the house.
I guide her away from the porch – the designated Portkey area – and smile back at her. “It is, isn’t it? It’s always been my dream, you know.”
Her smile turns more radiant. I think mine reciprocates very well.
Finch-Fletchley Residence, 12th March 2003
“Thank you for nudging me to study overseas, Potter,” Justin begins, as he invites me to sit on the couch across from him. “I found a healer in the United States who is also a qualified mundane doctor. I finished my healer training there and tested out many of the theoritical classes for my mundane degree. I’m a full doctor in both worlds, now.”
“Umm, you’re welcome?” I hazard a response, fighting an urge to scratch my head to show my confusion more blatantly.
He chuckles. “Never good with small talks, are you?” he smiles.
“Nope. Never,” I agree, relieved to be certain again. “Not about to change, too, I think. I sort of hate it.”
He grins, then. Justin Much-Poshly, grinning.
I grin my goofiest back at him. “So, you going to bring me touring London again, then?”
He laughs. Miracles.
“I don’t think the staff at Harrods really knew what to do with you,” he says then, mock sternly. “You proclaimed yourself Lord Black, with ring and all, and then you acted worse than a firsty at Honeydukes.”
I give him my best “Who? Me?” look.
He gives me a thaumaturgic bop on the nose.
My. He’s become much more relaxed, overseas.
I tell him just that.
He grins ruefully. “I was the subject of hazing until I changed a little.”
“Ah.” I put on my best attempt at a wise look.
He bops my nose again and goes into a second bout of laughter, so maybe the attempt looks more like I’m fighting against constipation.
The imagined look makes me crack up, too.
“Seriously, though,” he sighs, when we’ve recovered ourselves, “what did you want to talk about? I saw nothing wrong with you, physically… except if you’re really constipated?”
I do the mature thing of sticking my tongue out at him.
He bops my nose for the third time. “Behave, Potter, or I’ll make myself your personal physician and make you attend a most unpleasant examination.”
I scrunch my poor nose up and point out that he threatened a similar thing once with no avail. “But it isn’t a bad idea,” I continue before he can retaliate… or bop my nose again. “Don’t tell anybody, but I’m opening a school. Mostly for Muggleborn, though. So, if you can, maybe you might want to work part-time there? It’s not easy, to find a good doctor that the parents will trust but also know about magic and how to treat magical injuries.”
It kills the humorous mood, all right.
Justin sighs again, heavily this time, and slumps against the back of the couch he’s seated on. “I heard about Hogwarts,” he mutters. “So it’s all true, then? It’s receiving only Pureblood and Halfblood, now?”
“The older Muggleborn are there. Some of them, at least,” I nod. “But the younger ones… no.”
He closes his eyes and seems to think hard for a long moment. Then, looking right into my eyes, he asks, “Aren’t we just widening the segregation, by doing this?”
We. All right. He’s hooked. Now, I just need to convince him… while I’m not so convinced, myself.
I tell him a short, edited version of the history of Black Sanctuary, in the end. I even tell him that it is a short, edited version, and warn him not to dig deeper unless the people there are willing to share more with him.
Well, at least he says yes to my proposal… after hours of talking. He’s willing to work immediately, too. As in, tomorrow.
The parents will be happy. The students won’t. He’s ordering a mandatory medical check-up for the latters, after all.
Unfortunately, he does finagle himself a position as my personal physician, and immediately dictates a medical check-up for me with the time slot before the students.
Bugger.