Chapter 29: The Round Tower
A/N: Happy Holloween, and thanks for all of the thoughtful reviews.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.
Wednesday, June 20, 11:00am
Round Tower, Windsor Castle
The Queen's Wizard and Queen's grandson climbed the last few stone steps to reach the highest point within Windsor Castle. The journey had taken them to the rooftop of the Round Tower, where cannons still guarded the Royal Standard that flew whenever the British Monarch was in residence.
"Well, Prince Harry," Harry concluded as he looked out past the battlements, "this must rank as the nicest and most elaborate play fort in the world."
The Young Prince chuckled. "Only second best, I'm afraid…there's a Sultan down in the Emirates that had a half-scale replica of the Fortress of Fao built for his boys."
"Still…"
"Yes, you're right," the Young Prince agreed. "When we were younger, my brother and I spent as much time as we could up here, playing knights and artillerymen…had these cannons carried live powder we would have flattened most of Berkshire several times over."
The panoramic view was spectacular, and the Young Prince was all too happy to point out various landmarks and the vestiges of English countryside. To the South, within the Windsor Great Park, were hunting lodges turned Royal residences and the stables where he'd been presented the Royal Wizard's orb. Turning west, they looked down upon the rooftops of Windsor Town; beyond the town was Ascot Racecourse, nestled into a bend of the Thames.
"Surprised that they're racing today?" Harry asked.
"No," replied the Young Prince. "The show must go on, stiff upper lip, and all that…sure that you don't want to give a repeat performance?"
Harry shook his head. "I think they've seen enough Dementors over there for now, and I seem to attract them like flies."
The Young Prince nodded as he grappled with his latest c-mug lesson on magical beasts and beings. "It was quite strange watching you and your comrades fighting something that I couldn't see…whatever happened to the two Dementors you downed?"
"Don't know," Harry replied. "The corpses dissolved away before we could poke at them."
"How does that work…killing something that wasn't alive in the first place?"
"I'm not quite sure…they don't teach necromancy at school."
"Necromancy?" the Young Prince asked, as he began to walk stiffly with his arms out. "You mean like zombies?"
"Yes," Harry replied quietly. "Except that in our world they're called Inferi, not zombies."
The Young Prince took notice of the slight change in Harry's complexion, and hollow look in his eyes.
"Don't tell me that you've run up against those things as well?" he asked.
When Harry nodded, Prince Harry shook his head and whistled a low note as they continued their walk along the parapet.
"When I was your age, the scariest thing I had to face was my chemistry professor." He stopped Harry and pointed north towards a campus of buildings and playing fields. "Speaking of which, there's my old school."
Harry looked out over the tower's edge.
"Eton?"
The Young Prince nodded, as he patted the barrel butt of one of the eighteenth-century cannons. "Father says that it's no coincidence that this one's aimed straight at the faculty's residence."
"He went there too?" Harry asked.
"Sure," the Young Prince replied. "The English Crown has been sending its boys there for centuries."
"Would of thought the instructors too afraid to treat you with anything less than respect," Harry replied.
"Oh, no," the Young Prince replied with a rueful grin. "The staff takes great pride on living up to the House of Windsor's insistence that its young men not be treated differently."
"So let me guess," said Harry. "The chemistry professor assumed you were full of yourself based on who you were, instead of how you acted, and took every opportunity to knock you down to what he thought should be your proper size."
"Yeah," the Young Prince said with surprise. "How'd you know?"
"Been there, been subjected to that."
They continued their clockwise stroll, stopping to look east down the length of Heathrow's two main runways as a passenger jet completed its landing. Twenty miles beyond the airport were the skyscrapers of Central London. Using the airport and various motorways as guide points, the two were able to distinguish Little Whinging from the similarly nondescript communities that surrounded it.
"Stopped by the hospital on the way out this morning and visited Brian," the Young Prince said.
"That was nice," Harry replied. "Hermione and I plan on returning there this afternoon…still unconscious?"
"Yes," the Young Prince said. "His sister arrived this morning, you know."
"No, I didn't" replied Harry, already feeling guilty at the thought of meeting Brian's family.
"I was quite close to him growing up," sad Prince Harry softly, "used to sneak into the palace kitchens at night and he'd cook all my favorite greasy foods."
"He told us that…he's done so much for me as well," Harry replied glumly.
"Chin up, Sir Harry," the Young Prince said, as he straightened his own back. "He's not dead."
"Close to it," Harry replied, "and I wasn't there to help him."
"Even wizards can't be in two places at the same time…or can they?"
That comment brought a tight grin to Harry's face as he thought about Hermione's time turner. "Erm, no…at least not anymore."
"So how's your mate's brother doing?"
"Fred?" Harry asked. "Broken arm, three cracked ribs, ruptured spleen, nasty concussion…he'll be fine."
"They must work wonders at your wizard hospital."
"Yeah," replied Harry, as a germ of a thought crept into his head. "They can."
The Young Prince paused for a moment, then tried to change topics. "So have they let your neighbors back into their homes yet?"
"Should have by now," Harry replied. "When I talked to Wally this morning they were close to done."
"Wow," replied the Young Prince. "Heard about the damage…suppose you had some magic brooms and dustpans for the clean-up?"
Harry chuckled. "No, we fly on our brooms, and the neighborhood's still a mess. Most of the houses still have broken glass, and there's rubble and debris everywhere…guess I was talking more about cover-up than clean-up; we spent most of the night moving dirt and dressing up the impact crater just enough to make it look like a gas line explosion."
"Imagine then that they've finished the body count?"
"Mostly," Harry replied grimly. "Twenty-two dead, four wounded, and a lot of unidentified bits of bodies …took muggle search dogs and lots of "Accio body parts" spells to find it all."
"Harsh," was the Young Prince's assessment.
"You could say that," Harry agreed.
"So how long before you can move back?"
"Dunno," Harry replied. "Wouldn't do to use magic for the home repair, and my Aunt and Uncle's house was flattened. I could move into one of the other houses I now own, but the magical protections that were in place are in poor shape. But even if they weren't, I'm not sure I could return."
"Why's that?"
"Because despite our success yesterday," Harry explained, "there's still Death Eaters out there looking to get to me. I'm certain we'll have to defend ourselves again, and, well…how many gas main explosions can you have in one neighborhood before somebody gets suspicious?"
The Young Prince laughed. "Yes, well, I can see your predicament…which is why I'm pleased grandmum's given you some options."
Harry nodded. "You certain you wouldn't mind lending me your play fort for a little while?"
The Young prince smiled. "No worries, Sir Harry. It was indeed a fabulous play fort, and this rooftop was a brilliant place to bring my teen-aged dates, but…well, we all move on, don't we? Besides, it's the Queen's decision, and the offer's already been made."
The flag turret's door swung out as the Prince of Wales led Hermione to the rooftop for her first views from the top of the Tower.
"So what do you think, Hermione?" Harry asked, as she approached and took his hand.
"Harry, can you feel it," she replied excitedly. "I think I've already found a couple of dormant protection wards but there's older magic than that at work here, I just know it. Pretty sure I can work out the equations needed to attenuate anti-app wards into something more elliptical...we should be able to cover the Upper Ward, at a minimum…maybe the entire castle with a little help from our security consultants."
Harry smiled. "That's great, Hermione, but what do you think of the inside?"
"Oh, well, there is a lot of space to work with, don't you think, Harry?" she quickly replied. "Hedwig would love the huge area just below, and with the stone walls and fireplaces, and the apartment's main room's almost like Gryffindor Tower's, isn't it? And that one room that used to be a library, and the…"
"And the one bedroom?" Harry asked, with one eyebrow raised.
Hermione blushed just a bit. "Oh, well, there is that second apartment…Ron and Luna would have room when they visit, and the Prince was saying that the ground floor apartment used to house guards…it'd be perfect for mum and dad…" Realizing that she was babbling a bit and making more than a few assumptions, she tried to self-correct. "or any other MI-5 ¾ staff, of course." She caught her breath, then asked, "So…what do you think, Harry?"
Harry smiled. "Well…"
The Prince of Wales, sensing that he was witnessing something akin to a young couple buying their first house, took on the role of real estate agent and tried to close the deal.
"I will admit, it is a bit…rustic," he said. "But your quarters in Buckingham might compensate, and we aren't without the means to make it at least a little more comfortable for you here." He paused, then added, "It wouldn't be the first time a Royal Wizard took up residence within the Round Tower…and I'd wager those stone steps would create a healthy sense of space, should Hermione's parents be assigned to work or live down at the base."
It was Harry's turn to blush, with the realization that there were lots of things he'd like to do with Hermione that he wouldn't want her parents to walk in on. Seeing an anticipatory look in her eyes, he turned back towards the Prince.
"But what would happen if the Death Eaters track me down again?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't do to repeat yesterday's tactics, would it? Hermione and I could get away easy enough, but how would the Queen or anyone else escape if need be?"
The Prince glanced over to his son who was smiling broadly. "Sir Harry," the Prince said in reply, "the Queen usually only spends weekends here at the Castle; it's Ascot that has her here for the week. And if she were to be in residence…well, this castle is nearly a thousand years old, and contains more than a few secret tunnels and passageways…isn't that right, Prince Harry?"
"Erm, quite right, father," the Young Prince said, with an unapologetic smirk still on his face.
Harry smiled at the give and take between father and son. He turned to Hermione, who said, "It's up to you, Harry."
Harry turned back to the Prince. "We would be honored, then, to accept the Queen's generous offer of shelter."
Hermione let out a little squeal ("squee" was what it actually sounded like), and hugged Harry tightly.
The Prince of Wales turned towards his son with and offered some fatherly advice. "You should take notice," he gently chided his son, "of the benefits of cluing into your girlfriend's opinions."
When the two broke apart the Prince asked, "Will you two be joining us for lunch?"
Harry shook his head. "Thank you for offering, Your Highness, but we're meeting Ron at noon down in London."
The Prince nodded as looked at his watch. "Well then," he said, "You should get going. Even with the morning rush over the roads will be busy."
Hermione and Harry looked at each other and smiled.
"Oh, that's right," the Prince said, "you two don't have to worry about paying road congestion fees, do you?"
+++
Harry and Hermione used the thirty minutes not spent on the expressway to meet with the Castle's superintendent, who promised to have the Tower cleared and cleaned by the end of the day. They then called Wally to get a Little Wiz update, and to let him know that the lorry holding their personal possessions could be dispatched to Windsor.
At five before noon, Hermione apparated to a secured travel point in London's West End, then walked two blocks to the trendy muggle restaurant that Wally had recommended. It took her a few minutes to find a suitably secluded site within the busy bistro.
"Hermione!" Ron whined, as she pulled down the "closed for cleaning" sign that she'd been forced to conjur. "Why'd it have to be the women's loo?"
Hermione frowned as she shooed her two boys out into the main eating area. "Don't like it, pass your apparition test and you can pop up wherever you want."
Head Auror Robard's greetings and the prompt attention of the wait staff forced Ron to put his rant on hold. After ordering their food they took turn providing updates on their latest activities.
Ron began with word from St. Mungo's. He had been one of the many relatives of injured patients who had stood overnight guard at the wizard hospital (with so many of the injured Aurors, those normally on guard had been redeployed to the Ministry). Ron said that a rumor was spreading within this voluntary cadre that the Ministry was going to draft all seventeen and eighteen year old witches and wizards into Ministry service. A second fast-spreading rumor clarified the first, stating that the draft would be restricted to pure-blooded witches and wizards. He then reported the senior healer's latest estimate, that half of those injured during the battle would be released within forty-eight hours, and that half of those remaining would be cured within a week's time. He ended on a personal note, conveying word that Fred was healing nicely, and that the lingering effects of the Cruciatus spell that had struck his mum were fading. Her healers were now predicting a slow, painful, but ultimately complete recovery.
Harry and Hermione followed with news on Little Wiz and the muggle world. Three of the four Death Eaters that had survived the blast still lay unconscious within a military hospital. The fourth had been brought back within Little Wiz's weak, but operant anti-apparition wards and was under heavy sedation. The Phoenix Teams were still on site, guarding the prisoner and working hard to maintain the official story on what had happened the previous day. As far as Harry and Hermione knew, the cover stories for both Little Wiz and Ascot were holding in the muggle press.
They asked Ron and Robards whether word of the attack on Little Wiz had spread within the wizarding world, and were told that secret was holding as well. They agreed that this was a good thing, once the Head Auror passed along news from the Ministry of Magic.
Rufus Scrimgeour had avoided an immediate sacking through the skillful deployment of deceit and misdirection. The subterfuge had been straightforward and effective. Head Auror Robards had advance knowledge of the attack plans and coordinated the successful response. Head Auror Robards was a member of the Minister's cabinet. Therefore, using the transitive power of mathematics and sleazy politicians, it was the Minister's Office that had valiantly saved the wizarding world from You-Know-Who. It had become the big victory that had proven so elusive for Scrimgeour's office. Any questions on why there were so many Death Eaters working for the Ministry had been explained away with the simple observation that Scrimgeour had only been in power for a year, and that the vast majority of insurgents had been hired by previous administrations. In other words, "Blame Fudge."
The misdirection was far more insidious. Plans to arrest Harry for underage magic use had been reluctantly cancelled after Robards reported that he'd witnessed Harry's investiture as Queen's Wizard. A quick trip to the Book of Wizarding Records confirmed this event, as well as its legality. The furor that the Minister and his staff hurled upon the Head Author for witnessing and giving legitimacy to Harry's position was intense, but quiet. After all, Scrimgeour had just identified the Head Auror as a hero, and announced his intention to award him the Order of Merlin, Second Class. There weren't, unfortunately, as many constraints when it came to attacking Harry.
The wireless was already reporting that Harry Potter had betrayed the wizarding world by accepting the position of Queen's Wizard, and that he'd shamelessly used his magical powers before thousands of muggles in a self-aggrandizing attempt to gain fame and celebrity. A "senior Ministry official" had told the WWW that Harry was now a far graver threat than Voldemort, stating that his actions threatened the shroud of secrecy that protected the entire wizarding world from muggle interference. Word was also going around that Rita Skeeter would be reporting on this story in the next day's Prophet.
The Head Auror apologized to Harry for the Ministry's actions, and asked if he should go public with the truth. Harry and Hermione convinced him to stay quiet and keep his head low, arguing that the Ministry's lies might lead Voldemort away from how his battle plans had actually been betrayed. They also argued that the battle against Voldemort needed the Head Auror to keep his job, and to stay on top of the Ministry's machinations. And since it wouldn't do for a Ministry war hero to be seen in public with a pariah, they suggested that the Head Auror return to his office, and limit communications until the dust settled and a proper response had been formulated.
Before leaving, Robards jotted down a spell equation and wand movement diagram on the back of a serviette. As he handed it to Hermione, he suggested that it might come in hand in the days ahead.
"What is it?" Ron asked, as Hermione worked through the arithmancy.
After miming the wand directions with an index finger, Hermione shook her head and sighed.
"It's the counterjinx for Howlers."
+++
8:00pm, The Round Tower, Windsor Castle
Hermione Granger had severely underestimated the amount of time and physical exertion Harry would need to process the Head Auror's news. She'd called their personal trainer and Harry's longsword instructor from the restaurant to set up late-afternoon training sessions at Windsor Castle. While waiting for the instructors to arrive, they had helped Palace staff empty out the Round Tower's storage area, not bothering with shrinking and lightening spells. They then used that empty space for an exhausting series of practice duels. The physical trainer had taken them on an hour-long run within the Park and followed that with an hour of calisthenics. Harry then returned to the Tower with his instructor for an hour of sword training.
It had been two hours since that lesson ended, and Hermione could still hear Harry hacking away at conjured wooden posts. She decided that it was time to take action. Putting her unpacking on hold, she grabbed Harry's backpack and climbed the stairs that led from their new mid-tower apartment to where Harry was slicing and dicing.
The Round Tower's dimensions and layout had changed many times over the centuries. The last major modifications had been in the 1820's, when Windsor Castle's transformation from fortress to palace was completed under George IV. In order to maintain its position as the highest and most visible structure within the Castle, the Round Tower's height was increased some thirty-three feet. Despite the inclusion of window wells in the new stone walls, the new interior space within the addition was left unfinished, creating a huge enclosed area within this false upper story.
It was within this space that Hermione found a sweaty and slightly bloodied Harry. Three calls were needed before she caught his attention.
"Enough, Harry."
It was enough to make him stop.
She approached and took his hand, using the other to pull at a wooden splinter that had found its mark on Harry's neck. A kiss staunched the wound and slowed down his heart rate.
"Come," she commanded quietly. "You stink."
He looked at her oddly as he leaned down on his sword. "Come where?" he asked. "I didn't see any indoor plumbing within the Tower…did you?"
As Hermione shook her head she reached into Harry's backpack and pulled out the magical tent. With a few quick wand strokes she raised it and staked it down.
"Come," she commanded, as she pulled him towards the tent's entrance. "You stink."
Harry obeyed, and soon found the peace he'd been seeking at the end of Hermione's scrub brush.