Harry Potter and the Heart of Regenesis

Chapter Thirty-four

A Witch's Joy

Arthur had checked it five times already. As he had suspected Joy shouldn't have been able to do that and he was determined to find out how those fish and chips had materialised on Joy's plate at lunchtime. He read the relevant portion of the parchment yet again...

"...Muggles can see and use many magical items if the items themselves have the magic inside of them (e.g. they should be able to see wizard photographs and paintings, etc.) But any action or process that needs magical input from the individual cannot be achieved unless that person is magical. For instance, a Muggle may not ride a broomstick, as there is no magic in that person for the magic in the broom to respond to. They cannot use wands because there is no magic in them to activate the magical core of the wand.

Some Squibs have found they have an aptitude for Telepsychic command magic but this is a very rare occurrence and such cases have usually led to a reclassification of that person's magical status from Squib - 'Wizard Born No Magical Ability' (WBNMA) to 'Below Average Magical Ability' (BAMA)..."

It was all 'ministry-speak gobbledygook' really but he began to wonder if someone had interfered with her lunch order or if there was more to Joy Booth than met the eye! He admitted to himself - seeing as he was far enough away from Molly right now - that Joy was 'easy on the eye' and remarkably well preserved for a woman approaching fifty as it was...but then realised that this, in itself might be another pointer... After all, if one of the boys had 'ordered' for her then they had clearly read her mind beforehand as there was no doubt at all that the fish and chips was what she had wanted - right down to the trimmings!

"Joy," he said, rather tentatively, over a post tour coffee in his office (Bally and Chris were still wandering around the Museum of Magical Transport with Dennis), "I hope you don't mind me asking but, are your parents still alive?" She looked perplexed for a moment then shrugged and answered,

"I can't think why, for a minute, you'd want to know that but, yes they are. My mum is in her eighties and dad is ninety-two next birthday. In fact, seeing as you asked, my grandmother - mum's mum - is still alive as well - she's a hundred-and-three and still walks five miles a day! Longevity runs in our family," she smiled.

Arthur nodded, smiled thinly and muttered under his breath,

"I bet it does!" Joy heard him, though, and began to look just a little annoyed.

"What do you mean by that, Mr. Weasley?" It was 'Mr. Weasley' suddenly, he noticed.

"Please forgive me - er - Joy," he tried to excuse himself. "Erm...how old would you say I was. Go on, have a guess!"

She still looked rather disturbed by the current conversation but eventually shrugged and tilted her head from side to side the way people generally do when trying to make a vague guess in their mind.

"Oh, I don't know...mid fifties?" she hazarded.

Arthur laughed, feeling rather flattered - was he nearly flirting here, he suddenly asked himself?

"Madam, I am over seventy years old! And, furthermore, I fully expect to be working here at the Ministry of Magic for at least another forty or fifty years yet! Do you know anything about the wizard ageing process?"

Joy shook her head, a slightly disbelieving look on her face.

"Bally can expect, given a normal wizard lifespan, to live for a lot longer than a Muggle. Wizards often live beyond a hundred-and-fifty!" Both of them raised their eyebrows at this - he to emphasise his point, she in surprise.

"Professor Dumbledore, who has just retired as Headmaster of Hogwarts, is over one-hundred-and-eighty years old - and I expect him to go on for a good while yet."

"Are you trying to - somehow - suggest that...there might be more wi..." she stopped abruptly, to catch her words. "...Erm...more magical people in my family?" Joy had finally cottoned on to what Arthur was talking about, it seemed.

He thought for a moment how best to continue, and then he bent down and rummaged for a moment in the bottom drawer of his chest before pulling out the parchment he'd been reading on and off all afternoon.

"Mrs Booth..." now Arthur was the one being formal. "I want you to think back to lunchtime. Did you enjoy your fish and chips?"

She nodded, smiling appreciatively.

"Yes - it was smashing! Best I've had since we lived in Scarborough when I was a girl! There's no better fish and chips than in Scarborough - with the possible exception of Whitby," she added.

Arthur flinched a little. He'd heard of Whitby - that was Vampire country! The North Yorkshire Moors was one of the most magical areas in England. And, of course, the Witch of Danby was famous the world over for her spells, healing charms and 'foot therapies' - many of which were now in Muggle use and called Reflexology.

"Yes...well," he continued, a little taken aback. "The thing is, Joy...when I told Bally and Chris to imagine what they wanted for lunch and it appeared on their plates...that..." He was getting a little nervous and could feel the heat prickling under his collar and tie. He ran his finger around his neck nervously. He'd never told anyone they might be a witch before!

"...That shouldn't have worked for you as well! I was about to say that we'd call for a house-elf to bring you whatever you wanted but, before I had the chance to do so, you'd already 'ordered' as it were." He smiled a silly, embarrassed smile and let this sink in.

"Here," he said. "Read this." And he handed her the parchment, pointing out the relevant section. She read silently, trying to make sense of 'ministryspeak'.

Then she wrinkled her forehead and looked Arthur in the eyes.

"Does this mean I'm a Squib?" she asked, confusedly.

"No, I don't think it does," he replied. "You did the magic - the Telepsychic command magic referred to in the parchment. I...I think you are a witch, Joy!"

Joy shook her head vehemently.

"Where did you live when you turned eleven?" he asked her.

"Near Edinburgh," she replied. We were about to move down to Yorkshire and I had to take the English Eleven-plus exam to get a place in Grammar School. They had to send the papers up to Leith specially for me," she recalled.

"Your parents were very keen for you to go to Grammar School, were they?"

"Yes, a Grammar School education was very valued in those days. I went on to become Head Girl and go on to University. They were very proud - still are!" she stressed.

"Hmmm," Arthur mused. "And what is your parent's view on witches and wizards?" he asked.

"I...I don't know for sure," she stammered. "But I...I suspect they'd be horrified - we haven't told them about Bally and Hogwarts...th - they think he's at a special boarding school for exceptional musicians," she blushed at the little lie.

"Don't worry," Arthur reassured her. "Everyone is - exceptional - at Hogwarts, aren't they?"

Then he stood up and took out his wand. He waved it towards the windows and the curtains drew across them, plunging the room into near darkness. It was the first time Joy had noticed that sunlight had been coming in through the windows - even though they were a long way underground. Then Arthur started fiddling around as though looking for something in his pockets.

"What's the matter," Joy asked, rising to her feet and approaching his as if to help.

"Oh...I'm just...looking for..." he mumbled, pretending to be flustered. "Here, hold this a moment, would you?" he said quickly, handing her the wand that was still in his right hand.

As soon as she took it he stopped his rummaging. Joy had a wand in her hand for the first time in her life and she could feel - and Arthur could see - it was a rather special moment. There were no sparks, no wisps of smoke; all Joy felt was a little vibration going up her arm, like a very mild electric shock, and a sort of 'heaviness'. Arthur could tell from her reaction...Joy was a witch.

"Point it up there and say 'Lumos!'" he said to her.

Her eyes twitched apprehensively before she quietly breathed,

"Lumos!"

The light flickered on just as Dennis and the boys returned and Joy lowered the wand.

"Blimey!" said Chris and Bally in unison.

Arthur's mouth fell wide open as the boys became statues. Joy held the piece of wood between her hands, gazing at it as though it were a precious gold bar, as the reality of what she apparently was slowly began to sink in...

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There was a spare bed in the 1^st Year Gryffindor girl's dormitory in September 1966. Professor McGonagall had visited the girl's parents twice. The first time, at least she had got past the front door. On the second occasion Joy Bailey's parents had clearly been hiding behind the curtains. Minerva McGonagall knew that, of course - a simple revealing charm was all she needed to be able to see them cowering behind the sofa like little children watching a scary movie.

The first meeting had gone badly enough. There was just a remote possibility that Mrs Bailey had seen her transfigure from cat to human form...but whatever the reason, as soon as she had set eyes on the green-suited visitor she had become 'agitated'. Introducing herself as a 'senior teacher' from a very special school with important news for them and their daughter Joy she had been asked in and given a cup of tea.

As soon as the word 'witch' was used, however, it had been made abundantly clear that Major and Mrs Bailey did not want this stranger anywhere near their house - and certainly nowhere near their daughter! She had gone to the Bailey residence a second time at Dumbledore's personal request but it was only to confirm what she had already resigned herself to: Joy was going to be one of just three Muggle born wizards and witches to refuse to take an offered place at Hogwarts this century.

And so the bed in the dormitory remained empty and Joy was left to spend the next forty years of her life not knowing the truth. Wondering why her sponges never sank in the middle, why she could always get through what had looked like 2 hours ironing in less than twenty minutes (the pile just seemed to shrink!) and why none of her children had ever suffered more than a mild cold or sore throat, not missing a day's schooling between them...

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With the wind howling around about their ears and the rain and sea-spray lashing their already drenched bodies the ten aurors surrounding the Chambers house on Fladda-chùain were concentrating equally on not being seen and on watching the house for any signs of activity. To all of their trained eyes it appeared to be deserted. There were no lights shining from the many windows - but that was nothing unusual for a wizard residence - and the three of them who, between them, had been keeping a perpetual watch on the house since Asa Chamber's arrest a few days before had not seen anyone enter or leave.

Each of the aurors knew that Hermione was somewhere on the island as well but, having Apparated there with the rest, she had then gone into the house alone. She had promised to send up red sparks if she found herself in mortal danger (the universal sign of danger in the Wizarding World) but - as nothing had yet lit the sky scarlet - they were merely suffering with a curious mixture of nervous tension and relief as they waited for any kind of news or a signal. More nervous than the rest was Ron - not an auror of course - and on the raid only at his own request, wanting to be as involved as he possibly could be; yet - like everyone else - he had been unable to persuade his wife to allow him to accompany her into the 'enemy territory'.

It had been Hermione's absolute insistence that she try to enter the house alone. For a start she had the Invisibility Cloak wrapped tightly around her. In addition, she was now adept at magic both with and without a wand and, on top of all that, she was the best breaker of protective charms still working. A ten-month course of private lessons with Dumbledore in her 2^nd Year of Unspeakables Training had led to him passing on to her all he knew on the subject. Whilst he had shared this knowledge with several others over the years none of the others had had the capacity to recall information that Hermione had and she could still remember almost everything he had taught her. She realised that she would probably need some of that knowledge today.

So far she had managed to Apparate into the grand Entrance Hall. An enormous crystal chandelier that must have been worth thousands of Galleons dominated the Hall. The light from what appeared to be hundreds of candles was refracting through a myriad tiny prisms into spectra so that whenever you looked at it you saw reds, greens, blues and violets shining luminescently. She found it was rather hypnotic and suddenly realised she must have been looking at it for several minutes already. Hermione blinked her eyes to bring herself back to the task in hand and began to look for magical doorways that might lead to a dungeon. One doorway, to a games room of sorts, she discovered was concealed with a weak charm - the kind that she had learnt in 2^nd Year with Professor Flitwick and just about the most basic concealing charm there was.

Further investigation led to her discovery that there was another charmed doorway leading to a dark, descending staircase but when she followed it she found only Asa Chamber's wine cellar containing hundreds of dusty bottles of Chianti, Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot. One special rack housed a dozen bottles of Bordeaux claret dated 1923. Even from what she knew about wine Hermione realised these must be worth at least a few hundred pounds each. But there were no other doors, magically concealed or otherwise, leading from the cellar and so she returned back up the staircase to the Entrance Hall once more.

She was almost certain there was no-one else in the house with her. She visited every room on the ground floor; the cloakroom, living room, dining room and kitchen. Rarely had she seen such grandeur - Asa Chambers had clearly invested his, no doubt substantial, wages wisely over the years - the array of antique furniture was not only immaculate in its presentation but it oozed quality like sap from every square inch of its wood. Writing desks, bookcases lined with rare books - several of which she had longed to read for years - chairs and highly polished tables adorned the rooms; paintings by both wizard and Muggle artists, gold-rimmed mirrors and more chandeliers graced every wall and cornice. The fixtures alone must be worth a fortune.

In the dining room she stood for a few moments admiring the wood-panelled walls. She thought she recognised the wood as varnished walnut - at least the grain and knots looked the same as her grandparent's big walnut wardrobe in which she used to play when a small child - always hoping she would find Narnia inside it. She walked along each wall, tapping each panel in turn, listening for secret passages or hiding places. Ornate, silver light-fittings adorned each panel and a massive portrait hung on the end wall - judging by the similarity in appearance between its subject and the current head of the Chambers family the portrait was of some previous head of the dynasty. What struck Hermione as slightly odd was the fact that the portrait was a muggle painting - it didn't move at all.

She tapped another panel and heard a hollow echo behind it. She tapped again and then began to look feverishly around for a switch or lever. Then she reprimanded herself once more 'doing the Muggle thing' herself! How many times did she still forget? She had Apparated to work a few weeks ago then returned straight home again when she realised she'd forgotten to bring a hairbrush! She could fix her hair with a simple wave of her hand yet these natural instinctive actions and thoughts still often took over! She shook her head and tutted in exasperated self-admonishment but, just as she did so, she saw it! A simple red button in a stainless steel surround - just like one you'd see on a lift door! She pressed the button and the panel slid back gently and almost silently.

"Lumos!" she whispered. (Why was she being so quiet if she was sure there was no-one else in the house?) The gentle light from the end of Hermione's wand showed that she had simply found a second wine vault, not much bigger than a cupboard and housing several cases of vintage champagne, ice buckets and what appeared, at first, to be a Muggle freezer but which she realised, on closer inspection, was actually a safe.

"Nothing else in here," she thought.

From the living room she found a small door leading to a study that was devoted entirely to dragons - and almost entirely to Norwegian Ridgebacks. There were pictures and paintings of the wonderful creatures - both flying and in repose, aerial shots of dragon settlements in the Norwegian mountains and one absolutely spectacular shot of a flying dragon in all its glory swooping over a fjord. Charlie Weasley's book 'Chasing the Dragon' was there on a shelf and, in the corner of the study, a very lifelike model of a dragon stood gently breathing smoke from its nose. She frowned as she noticed how its eyes were following her around the room. Hermione watched it closely as she moved back and forth, and she found this a little worrying as she was still wearing Harry's cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders and was, to all intents and purposes, invisible.

Suddenly, with no warning at all, the 'model' dragon leapt at her, its claws bared! Was it not a model after all? She managed to sidestep and evade its first lunge but a second followed, scratching her leg. As the first shot of flame burst from the dragon's mouth a sheaf of parchments on the desk caught fire, causing enough of a diversion to distract the creature. Hermione opened the door quickly and dashed through it shouting 'Colloportus!' behind her and sealing it instantly. A few moments later Hermione heard a voice - it sounded a very young voice - from the other side of the door quickly incant 'Fluvius!' and then shout, presumably to her,

"You're dead, you filthy mudblood! Breaking into our house!"

Hermione was not about to unseal the door to find out who or what had attacked her - that could wait until later. She did, however, think about the conundrum for a moment or two - the Chambers family had two other sons still at Hogwarts and two younger daughters...could her attacker have possibly been one of those? If so, were they all animagi?

"Later!" she told herself, going back to her investigations - but now keeping an eye open for other 'models' or 'pets' lest they attacked her too.

When she reached the scullery door at the back of the house she stopped suddenly and raised her wand to a faded tapestry that filled almost the whole of one wall. 'Revelatio!' she whispered, pointing her wand at it. Under the embroidered wall hanging was an arch, concealed by the drapery. Opening the sealed arch with 'Dissendium' she walked through and was rather startled to find herself once more in the wine cellar.

All that went through Hermione's mind was the famous line from 'Alice in Wonderland', "Curiouser and curiouser!" She had spent quite some time in the cellar just an hour or so earlier looking for secret entrances and portals yet she had, presumably, missed this one. She looked at the wall she had just walked through - it was solid; there was no archway and no amount of 'Revelatio! or 'Dissendium' made any difference - from this side anyway!. In the end she decided to go back up the stairs once more. But this time, when she pushed the heavy door at the top of the stairs she was not in the Entrance Hall at all. She found herself standing back in the scullery and staring at the tapestry again.

Twice more she followed the circuit and both times she found herself back in the scullery. But on the third attempt, when she climbed the stairs out of the cellar she returned once more to the Entrance Hall. Something rang a bell in her mind...what had Dumbledore said? She tried to clear her mind of everything else - the cold, wet aurors standing guard outside, Della suffering somewhere in this magical rabbit-warren, Ron no doubt worrying himself silly over her. What was it? 'Come on, Hermione!' she urged herself, frustrated for once not to have the answer she was sure she knew was inside her head jumping to the front of her mind when she called it!

She skipped lightly back through the living room and kitchen and back out into the scullery. Holding open the door between kitchen and scullery was a heavy metal doorstop. Once more it was a dragon, though the species was indeterminable without reference to colours and true size - this was just bronze painted black. For the second time that evening Hermione caught her leg on it.

"Damn!" she shouted, bending down to rub her leg. Her shin was bleeding. She had half a mind to blast the stupid dragon out of the way with 'Reducto!' but showed all her usual restraint in not doing so. She licked her fingers and wiped the blood then looked at her fingers...

That was it! That was what Dumbledore had taught her. 'False portals will endlessly confound until you blast them out of the way. The true path is what they conceal.'

'That's not 2^nd Year magic,' she thought.

Hermione stood once more at the arch and this time, instead of 'Dissendium!' she shouted, 'Reducto!'. With a sound like a house being demolished the archway disappeared, as easily as if it had been made of tissue paper, and in front of her now stood a large, wooden door. She tried 'Alohomora!' and was surprised to discover it worked straight away!

The old wooden door swung open to reveal a damp, musty room with whitewashed walls. The smell from inside was appalling. At her feet lay a bowl of something that might once have been soup and a mildewed hunk of bread. Hermione looked across the room at an old iron-framed bed and, after walking tentatively towards it she found an emaciated Della Topley lying on the bare mattress. She was completely motionless and, as Hermione bent down to touch the girl's hand she shuddered.

Della was cold...

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