Step. Another step.
The sound of footsteps carried through the spacious entrance hall of the Greengrass house — Healer Smethwyck and I followed the lady of the house into its left wing.
Judging by the quiet voices coming from behind the doors of one of the rooms along the corridor, that was precisely where we were being led — where the master of the house and his guests had gathered. Could Smethwyck or Mrs Greengrass hear the conversation? Unlikely, since I was using a simple magic trick based on wilful spellwork.
"…must be," a male voice I recognised was saying, "that the esteemed Healer has chosen a truly worthy pureblood as his apprentice."
A truly worthy pureblood, indeed. A faint smile crossed my face, and I found myself almost looking forward to the scenes ahead, in all their possible variety.
"…I am more than certain, dear friend," — this was Mr Greengrass, though I caught the nearly imperceptible insincerity behind the words dear friend.
Stretching my sensitivity a touch further, I gathered that the room we were heading toward — a room of the smaller sitting room variety — currently contained three wizards. Three more, already quite familiar to me, were somewhere in the garden. If I remembered correctly the layout of the manor grounds I'd glimpsed through the fence, that trio was in the gazebo. More precisely — Daphne and Pansy were seated in the gazebo, while the third, Nott, was walking around it, kicking a pebble back and forth, comprehensively ignored by both girls.
Mrs Greengrass opened the sitting room doors before us.
"Please, do come in," she said, gesturing for us to enter.
Naturally, Smethwyck went first, immediately drawing attention to himself. The wizards were seated in armchairs around a small table.
"Ah, Hippocrates!" Mr Greengrass greeted him warmly — still as fair-haired as ever, odd as that phrasing sounds. "You never do specify the time of your visits."
"Yes, yes, I'm nothing but trouble for you all. I've heard."
"Healer Smethwyck," Nott put on his most respectful mask. "A pleasure."
The third wizard was unknown to me. Quite tall and lean, with short black hair, and a facial profile that seemed to reference ancient Greece or Rome — all he was missing was a laurel wreath. He wore a black, tightly wrapped robe that resembled a coat more than anything else, owing to its asymmetric fastening. A touch of embroidery, too.
"Mr Carrow," Smethwyck recognised the third man. "Good to see you finally venturing somewhere beyond your house and that handful of 'not for everyone' shops."
"Yes, fortunately life doesn't stand still."
And then, as they say, they noticed the elephant in the room. Well — me. I'm not quite so large, though it does sometimes seem I'm just as easy to overlook; people always "fail to notice" me.
"Gr—" Nott's expression twisted momentarily, but he recovered quickly — my radiant presence here was clearly not without purpose. "Mr Gr-ranger…"
"Good afternoon, Mr Nott," I said — having decided to draw on what I'd observed of the recent stranger… or rather, as the elf-shard put it more precisely: certain nuances of the mannerisms I'd adopted felt slightly misplaced among humans, and the details of the stranger's motor behaviour could serve to refine them in the right direction.
"Mr Greengrass," I greeted the master of the house.
A flicker of recognition passed through Carrow's eyes. He rose and extended his hand.
"Amycus Carrow," he introduced himself. "I've heard of your accomplishments."
This middle-aged wizard was no stranger to insincerity.
"Hector Granger," I said, shaking his hand — and simultaneously neutralising the curse that had activated against me from his ring. A delayed-action curse, powerful, elegant, dangerous.
Having neutralised it, I simply redirected it back toward Carrow himself. No point in allowing such nastiness to go unanswered. Sensing something like that is beyond most people, so I rather imagined that he, while quietly nursing his hopes for my relatively imminent demise, would be mortally surprised.
"Well then…" Mr Carrow smiled and surveyed those present. "I believe I've made my point as best I could. Now I find myself obliged to take my leave, in the hope that you will make the right decision."
"You won't even stay for lunch?" Mrs Greengrass enquired, out of politeness.
"Unfortunately," Carrow said, spreading his hands apologetically. "Business won't wait."
Judging by the mark on his arm, his business could indeed "not wait" — and if one were late, a portion of quite unpleasant sensations might follow. It was not for nothing that the Dark Lord had built into that tattoo the function of inflicting pain at varying degrees of intensity.
"In that case, I'll see you out. William, dear, would you take our guests to the dining room."
Mrs Greengrass moved toward the sitting room exit, and Carrow, nodding his farewell to all, followed.
"Well then, let's proceed," said Mr Greengrass, who did not look like a happy man. One could understand why. Probably.
The walk to the dining room was made in silence. The dining room itself was… well, large. A long table easily seating fifteen, soft pale tones, stone floors a shade or two darker than the walls. Tall windows, through whose open curtains the daylight poured.
Only when we had all sat down at the still-unlaid table did Mr Greengrass attempt to begin a conversation — but then the dishes started appearing, claiming everyone's attention simply by existing. Simultaneously, I caught the sound of approaching quiet voices from the corridor. Unlikely anyone else could hear them.
"…do you think your godfather brought a candidate here on purpose, to show him off?" The voice was unmistakably Pansy's.
"He's perfectly capable of being in league with yet another of my parents' schemes to match me with someone."
"If that's the case," Nott junior declared pompously, "then that someone is simply obliged to come out looking like a failure next to me."
"You're only not cursed through the floor out of politeness and hospitality," Daphne snapped — though it was nearly imperceptible. I was quite certain her face was showing one of its well-practised masks right now.
"You really ought to accept," Nott continued in his important tone, as their trio drew almost level with the closed dining room doors, "that the moment our parents come to an agreement, the matter will be settled, justice will prevail, that failure Granger will be forgotten, and you will make peace with your parents' decision."
"Good luck," Daphne replied.
"Hee-hee," — Pansy, that one. She was almost certainly busy driving Nott out of his mind. The girl had a genuine talent for reducing people to a state of incandescent fury when she put her mind to it.
The side doors opened — the dining room had more than one entrance.
"Father, I'm sorry we're late. The news that lunch had been moved was unexpected," Daphne said.
Smethwyck and I, sitting on one side of the table, couldn't see the newcomers — we had our backs to them. Only from the head of the table could one survey all three entrances to the dining room.
"No matter, my dear. Come in, all of you."
They began filing in, looking intently at Smethwyck and me. Naturally, Daphne recognised both of us — she stumbled slightly in her stride. What's more, she ultimately made her way to an entirely different place at the table from where the place setting had apparently been laid for her.
"Godfather," she said, approaching Smethwyck with a polite smile.
"Hello, princess."
"Hector."
"Daphne…"
She was clearly waiting for something, though she didn't intend to wait long. Thinking quickly, I rose from the table and pulled out the free chair beside me.
"Thank you," she said — and alongside her smile, something that could only be described as relief was readable on her face. She accepted the offered assistance and sat down beside me.
Nott junior was irritated in precisely the same manner as his father. Mr Greengrass was frowning. Mrs Greengrass, who had entered behind the young people, merely smiled — mysterious and nearly imperceptible — the way only women can smile when occupied with some private, unknowable train of thought.
"Well…" Pansy sighed, adding in a whisper: "And I'd thought it would all pass quietly…"
Without waiting for anyone to help her, Pansy sat herself down next to Daphne. The place settings that had been laid elsewhere migrated, by house-elf magic, to in front of the girls. An irritated Nott junior even forgot to greet those he hadn't seen yet today — namely Smethwyck and me — and sat down opposite us, beside his father. Mrs Greengrass took her place beside her husband. Such was the seating arrangement — one in which our side of the table had the numerical advantage over all the rest.
Now that everyone was seated, I could at last take in who was wearing what. Daphne's dark blue dress complemented her bright blue eyes and black hair beautifully. Pansy had opted for something in the nature of a pinafore dress and robe. Both Notts were attempting to project aristocracy, dressed in expensive and well-made old-fashioned three-piece suits, with a few clearly costly accessories completing the look without calling undue attention to themselves. What a charming atmosphere.
"Well…" Mr Greengrass began speaking, his tone dour. "It appears that words are largely pointless." But he softened the moment his wife's hand came to rest on his arm. "Let us have lunch, then, and talk afterwards."
"Splendid speech, William," Smethwyck nodded, clearly anticipating either a row, or the food, or both simultaneously — since one hardly precluded the other. "Let's eat properly at last — an empty stomach is the ruin of a good wizard!"
What can I say? It was rather entertaining to watch the Notts struggling to swallow anything. But something here was clearly very much to their advantage — they were making considerable effort to at least appear civilised and well-bred. Both of them, incidentally, bore marks on their arms. Hm — did that mean I could use the mark to condition young Nott on a reward-and-punishment basis?
"Hector, darling," Daphne managed to blend sincerity and saccharine sweetness in her tone and smile in equal measure — the latter purely for the audience. "You've eaten so little."
"Oh, dearest Daphne," I smiled back at her, meeting eyes that were practically laughing, matching her exactly. "The bounds of propriety prevent me from satisfying my hunger to the full."
"Here we go…" Pansy sighed. "Oh, there's lemon. Perhaps that'll help…"
Pansy glanced at us and began chewing on what was nearly half a lemon — yet her expression remained entirely unchanged.
"Come now, darling," Daphne showed no inclination to abandon the performance. "Here, don't be shy…"
She flicked her wand and levitated onto my plate a substantial quantity of meat, vegetables, and generally maximised the dish's contents in approximately one second.
"Would I let my dear Hector go hungry?"
"Very kind of you, my dear."
Nott junior, distracted by irritation, apparently failed to notice something solid in his food — a crunch resounded through the entire hall. Judging by Nott's expression, some tooth had fallen in unequal combat with… something.
"Are you quite all right, Theo?" Mrs Greengrass enquired, with perfect courtesy.
"P-perfectly."
"Hm…" Pansy had been chewing lemon throughout, watching Daphne and me, our smiles, our absurdly saccharine gestures. "It's not helping. Too sweet…"
"A splendid lunch, my friends," Smethwyck informed the table cheerfully. "But as a Healer, I feel I ought to mention — one ought to reduce one's intake of fatty foods. Such excesses do cause irritability. Hence the sour looks."
"Perhaps we might observe the bounds of propriety?" Mr Greengrass looked at us with displeasure, while his wife continued to smile her mysterious, nearly invisible smile.
"Father," Daphne said. "Is anything actually outside the bounds of propriety? Aside, of course, from the rather small portions."
Only Smethwyck, it seemed, was genuinely enjoying everything — including the food.
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