Chapter 203

In reality, I want Neville to figure it out. I want him to know that, even with his Slytherin grandmother with her decades of political shenanigans under her belt, he discovered the truth first. And I also don't want him to worry about you any more than he has to. If it saves him even one day of worry, it's worth it. He knows I would never harm you.

I was going to use her trying to install Algernon into the Seat to 'out' the mongrel as having already tried, twice, to kill your son. But, I've now had longer to think about it and believe you would want that dubious honour for yourselves. I think it would hold more weight if you were to go after him as Lord Longbottom in defence of your Heir Apparent, than me as someone who is obviously in conflict with the supposed Regent of your House.

I'll leave the choice of whether or not the man faces justice for what he did, to you. I strongly feel you have the greater right and I will abide by your decision.

Work hard, you two. Get fit and get ready. When you come out during the early hours of the morning on Tuesday, there will be only a few hours until Sirius's trial before the Wizengamot. That's going to be fun - not for the members, but for everyone else who'll be watching.

Right after that is the general meeting of the Wizengamot, when I believe Augusta's going to try to install Algernon.

That's when I think you should make your move.

Harry

Oh, and Hermione sends her regards.

~ # ~

While he'd been writing, Dobby delivered to him yet more quarter-cut sandwiches. He hadn't even noticed he'd been eating them until he reached for one and realised the plate was empty.

Hermione, who had been reading his letter over his shoulder as he was writing the last two short paragraphs, smirked at him and whispered in his ear, "Want more sandwiches, Harry?"

He frowned, grumbled a little under his breath about evil witches and almost sulkily replied, "Please."

She gave a short and light laugh and called, "Dobby."

"Yes, Miss-tress Herm'nee?"

"More sandwiches for the 'hungry beast', Dobby," she snickered.

"Yes, Miss-tress Herm'nee," replied the elf.

Harry was just going to ignore the sandwiches, which appeared a few moments later, but... they looked so goooood...

Dobby took the letter to Gringotts a few minutes later. After he left, Harry looked at the wall clock in the kitchen and realised his estimation of their having reached the halfway mark was going to be pretty accurate.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

Neville had been inside, seen his grandmother talking to his Great Uncle Algernon, her brother, and left again. He didn't like the man one bit. He was the man who had tossed him off a pier in Blackpool and then later dangled him out a top floor window at Longbottom Hall by his ankle before actually dropping him. If it wasn't for the fact he experienced a sudden bout of Accidental Magic, he'd have died.

Harry was right. The man should have stood trial for both events. He was, after all, the Heir Apparent of a Noble and Most Ancient House. That his grandmother did not pursue the matter was quickly becoming a bone of contention for him.

Instead of remaining in the Hall he returned to the greenhouse and summoned Fluxy there.

"Fluxy," he called.

"Yes, Master Neville?" it asked.

"I shall be having my lunch out here, Fluxy," he said. "Please organise it."

"Yes, Master Neville," replied the elf with a little bow. "But you alreadys be missing lunch. Fluxy makes you some sandwiches."

His late lunch of sandwiches appeared on a plate next to his main workbench only a few minutes later.

As he ate, he pulled Harry's letter of that morning out of his pocket and gave it a second read. He knew there were clues to some other, hidden, message contained in what Harry wrote, but he still couldn't figure it out.

He also knew he would. He just needed time for his mind to put the pieces together.

However, if he couldn't figure it out by that evening, he'd send Fluxy to Harry with a short letter telling him. But, that was a last resort. And he wasn't ready to throw in the potion neutraliser yet. This was something he knew Harry thought he could accomplish. And, if Harry thought so, it must be right.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

When Frank and Alice received Harry's letter - Alice reading first this time - she said to Frank, "Harry thought we'd receive this one right on about the halfway mark, Day eighteen. He got that right."

Frank smiled back and continued to use the wand blank he was given to practice his spell casting. They'd been given them a few days ago, when the Healers thought they were now ready to begin mock-duelling.

The two had been practicing with them, as often as possible, ever since. They were even starting to remember spell chains they'd developed together and used while as aurors fighting Death Eaters. But, those chains were more coming as a result of muscle memory - that is, their hands and wrists flowing from one spell into another without conscious thought - than mental memory. Each time one of them reflexively performed a spell chain they'd mentally forgotten about, they stopped to write down what they remembered of the movements, then the identity of the spell from the movement and muttered incantation. It was a back-to-front way of doing things, but it was working for them.

They'd both also been told by their physio-Healer that, if they were able to go through a mock-duel for a minimum of three minutes, they would be given actual wands. The wands might not be their own, but at least they were real wands.

What they didn't know, until they were actually handed them about two hours later, were they were very close to their originals.

When Alice, looking in wonder at the wand in her hand, asked, "How?"

No one failed to understand the question was actually, "How did you find a wand that so closely resembles my own; and how did you know what mine was?"

"Apparently Lord Potter found out from your son," replied the main healer. "Your son was using Frank's to start with. So, he knew what it was - Oak and dragon heartstring. On finding that out, he asked him if he knew what his mother's was. Neville told him - Birch and unicorn tail hair.

"From that we acquired wands that closely matched those two descriptions from a wand crafter."

"Well, they're a bloody good match!" declared Frank. "Mine may even be a better match to me than my own!"

"Mine might, but I don't think so," replied Alice. "However, 'tis damned nice to have a wand in my hand, again."

"Hear, hear," muttered Frank.

He looked to the Healer and asked, "And this was young Harry's... Lord Potter's idea?"

"Yes," the healer replied. "Bloody good one, too.

"Now for the second part," he continued. When both were looking at him he said, "He's also arranging for your own wands to be collected from Longbottom Hall and brought down here to be waiting for you as soon as you leave. Lord Black will be meeting you outside and waiting to hand them to you.

"Don't ask me how he's going to accomplish that, because I have no idea. But, with what he's accomplished so far, I have no doubt he's going to pull it off."

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

Early that evening at the Department of Mysteries, Scimitar was sitting before his boss's desk.

"You're sure it was the young knight?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Croaker. "One of our paid informants among the goblins informed us and another confirmed it. The dog was waiting for them when they arrived and it's been paid for by the young knight direct from his vaults and via a boon the Goblins owed the House of Potter."

"Bloody hell! A boon?"

Croaker nodded.

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