Muggle Summer, Wizard's Fall
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.
Chapter 59: Potter Plaid
Tuesday, July 10, 8:00am
Palace at Holyrood, Edinburgh
On the morning after the incident at Bath, Harry Potter struggled not to yawn as he left the morning Palace security brief for a summons by the Queen. A quick badge-call to Steve placed the monarch in a sitting room within the State Apartments.
Once announced and ushered into the room, he found the Queen standing on a small raised platform, wearing a heavy green robe, and a floppy black velvet hat decorated with a plumage of large white feathers. Seamstresses and other household staff were flittering about, taking tassles, chains, and other adornments from a velvet-trimmed chest and adding them here and there to the outfit.
"Good morning, Gryffindor," the Queen said, as Harry walked towards her. "This shan't be more than a minute."
"I am at your disposal, Your Majesty," Harry said, as he bowed low and swept an imaginary hat off of his head. The others in the room thought the affected response and his rakish grin to be slightly scandalous, but not unexpected…the Queen enjoyed Harry's playful approach towards formalities and protocols. In fact, the Prince had even playfully complained that the Queen made more allowances for Harry's behavior than those she provided her own children.
The Queen's Wizard moved to one side of the room, joining Steve and Susan Bones, the Queen's muggle and magical guards for the morning.
"Merlin, Harry," Susan whispered. "You really do have her wrapped around your little finger."
Harry chuckled. "Jealous, much?"
"Hell, yes," Susan replied with a playful slap on his arm. "Spent the last few days doing nothing but studying and practicing the proper way to act in the Royal presence."
With a nod back towards the Queen, Harry asked, "So what's all this, then?"
"Her costume for the Order of the Thistle," Steve replied.
"She's going to wear all that until the service?" asked Harry.
Steve shook his head. "They're just making sure they've got all the bells and baubles in place, and that alternations aren't needed before it's all sent over to the Signet Library."
The three watched as the last bit of Royal bling was retrieved from the storage container and arranged on the Queen's robes. The attendants then stepped back, and after a few whispered discussions, announced that everything was good to go for later that day.
The Queen sighed happily as the rather heavy costume was removed piece by piece, revealing a tea-length cream-colored dress underneath. She dismissed all of the costume evaluators save for her personal seamstress, who withdrew to a position next to a second unopened chest. The monarch then sat down in a leather winged-back chair and summoned her Wizard. Susan and Steve remained watching from a discrete distance.
As Harry approached, the Queen stated, "We have read your brief on last evening's events and a few questions, Lord Gryffindor."
"Yes, Your Majesty," replied Harry, coming to a stop a few feet in front of the chair.
The Queen asked, "Has there been any change on the casualty count at Bath?"
"No, Your Majesty," Harry replied. "The two dead and four injured still appear to be wizards."
"So the Ministry of Magic will claim no harm, no foul, and that the memory charms used on the constable and fifteen civilians were standard operating procedures?"
"That's right, Your Majesty," said Harry. "The Oblivator Squads have been doing this sort of clean-up operation for years."
"And there is nothing to stop them from doing this same sort of cover-up on incidents that do involve attacks on muggles? Incidents that we might not even know about?"
Harry replied, "Yes, Your Majesty…we were rather fortunate last night. Had that constable not been near the scene and able to report the arrival of the Obliviator Squadron before he himself was obliviated, we wouldn't have been able to get the helicopter to the scene."
"That was useful…how was it that the helicopter pilot and cameraman wasn't affected by these muggle-repellents?"
With a small smile, Harry replied, "The wizards only applied the repelling wards on the ground…they didn't think to ward over their heads."
The Queen paused, and then asked, "So what led to the explosion?"
"We don't know just yet," said Harry. "The wizards had repaired the building damage and left the scene before Hermione and I arrived. Our people inside the Ministry are aware of our interest, and we may learn more over the course of the day."
With a sigh, the Queen then stated, "It would seem that we are still forced into a mostly reactive position, so long as the Ministry refuses to share its intelligence with us."
"I'm afraid so, Your Majesty," Harry admitted. "We have tried to make inroads within their Magical Surveillance Office, but they've so far done a good job of keeping our people away, and have staffed that office with witches and wizards loyal to the Minister's office."
"Yes, well, perhaps all that will change after Carlisle," the Queen replied. She then shifted topics. "What of the search in Salisbury, and the two suspected safe-houses?"
Harry nodded. "Hermione was hoping to see an update about those issues at their morning COBRA meeting at 10 Downing Street. As far as I know, nothing has changed at the suspected safe houses…we're waiting to see if Rookwood or one of the other high-level Death Eaters shows up at either location before acting. And the lead we had on the Death Eater wishing to take a taxi to Salisbury hasn't produced anything actionable…but then again, we haven't shared that bit of intelligence with the Ministry, and the focus of our magical resources have been on your safety here in Scotland this week."
The Queen smiled. "Ah, yes, that you for reminding us….Lucinda, if you would?"
The seamstress who had been quietly standing to one side retrieved a tape measure and small notebook from her pocket and replied, "Yes, Your Majesty." She then gestured towards the platform that the Queen had been standing on and asked, "Lord Gryffindor, if you please?"
"Your Majesty?" Harry asked.
"We understand that there are some ongoing security issues that my seamstress will be able to address," the Queen replied with a smile.
"I'm…I'm afraid that I don't understand," Harry replied.
At this point Steve and Susan came forward.
"Just get up on the box, Harry," said Susan. "It's your turn to be kitted out."
Harry raised an eyebrow, but followed the Hufflepuff's orders. As the seamstress wrapped the tape measure around his waist, Steve offered up an explanation.
"You know that there's been concern about friendly fire, especially tomorrow during the party, right Harry?"
"Yes, we hit on topic this morning," Harry replied. "The best we've come up with is for our Order of Arthur witches and wizards to be wearing MI-5 jackets if they're called on to draw their wands during an attack."
"But the problem is that your Magical Squadron and Order of Arthur members won't be the only ones on our side with wands," Susan replied. "Take me, for example…you aren't thinking that I'll wear that jacket over a dress during the party, do you?"
"Well, no, but you four should be well-enough known to our muggle security forces."
"In ideal circumstances, perhaps," Steve countered. "But if there is an attack, there will be chaos, and I wouldn't put it past our snipers to get nervous and start shooting at anyone with a wand in their hand."
"Okay, so…what's this about then?" Harry asked, as he nodded towards the seamstress as she measured his left arm's sleeve length.
"We would be pleased to provide you and all of the other witches and wizards within our service with a highly visible outfit suitable for the occasion," the Queen said.
Harry nodded. "An outfit more visible than my Queen's Wizard's robes, Your Majesty?"
"No, not quite," the Queen replied with a smile. "But one that could be worn by more than just the Queen's Wizard." She then waved towards the unopened chest and asked, "Agent Jackson?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Steve replied, as he walked over and opened up the trunk. Inside were several bolts of a bright red and gold wool fabric.
"Tartan?" asked Harry.
The Queen nodded. "As our historians were unable to find historical precedent, we would be pleased to offer the Potter Clan one of our reserved tartans for its own use."
"Oh, my," Harry replied, as he looked at the fabric's bright pattern. "Well, there won't be any mistaking anyone wearing a jacket made of that cloth."
"It's not intended for a jacket, Lord Gryffindor," the seamstress replied with a smile. She then ran her tape from his waist down to one knee.
"You don't mean a kilt, do you?" asked Harry.
Susan nodded as she walked up to Harry and patted his arm. "Don't worry, Harry, you've got great looking legs."
"But a kilt?"
"Suck it up, Harry," Steve admonished with a grin. "And look at the bright side."
"And what would that be?"
"You'll have plenty of room underneath for an extra wand."
oo00OO00oo
9:00am Somewhere in Salisbury
The Dark Lord Voldemort sat rather restlessly as those members of his inner circle still with him in his Wiltshire hideaway reviewed readiness reports and minion deployments. The extracted memory of the apparent bullet hole in Alecto Carrow's head worried him.
"What cells are ready and capable of another offensive?" he asked.
The inner circle Death Eaters looked at each other, hoping that someone else would risk replying. When nobody did, the Dark Lord sneered, "Lestrange?"
"Yes, my Lord," Rodolphus replied. "All of your forces are ready and eager to follow your commands instantly. That said, we have Nott and his group out at the Rookery, MacNair and five more scouting the Ministry, and Bella took Rabastan and six others with her to flush out unplottable locations for your use."
"What of the safe-houses under your command, Rodolphus?" Voldemort demanded.
"My Lord, as you know I have most of our injured comrades in Severus's care in Knockturn Alley," the Death Eater replied. "But I have at least fifteen that are capable of joining me in executing whatever plans you may have for us."
"How about you, Rookwood?" the Dark Lord demanded.
"I have twelve within my two remaining safe-houses," Rookwood replied. "All are eager to serve as their Lord sees fit."
Voldemort considered his options. There were another thirty or so he could call upon, but thought it best to keep the male Lestrange occupied…he got antsy whenever his wife was deployed out into the field.
"Rodolphus," he said, "I want you to lead your fifteen into the biggest, baddest, deadliest attack you can devise against the muggles."
"Yes, my Lord," Rudolphus said proudly. "Have you any particular target or town in mind?"
The Dark Lord nodded. "Something spectacular…something that would force them to consider attacking the wizarding world as a whole."
"My Lord?" asked Rodolphus.
"While your sick and injured heal," Voldemort explained, "I want the Ministry's forces more worried about the muggles, than us."
He then turned and said, "Rookwood, you're the closest thing we have to a muggle, I'll leave it to you to decide the target, and to develop a plan of attack with Lestrange for his teams to execute."
"Yes, my Lord," the former Unspeakable immediately replied. He didn't care to be verbally abused by his master, but it was better than getting Crucio'ed any day of the week.
"Within the next 48 hours," Voldemort stated. "And Rookwood?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Take care that you return with memories of a successful attack."
"As you wish, my Lord."
oo00OO00oo
11:30am, Palace at Holyrood, Edinburgh
Harry's hopes that the custom tailored kilt would take some time to fashion were dashed when the Queen's seamstress arrived at his Palace office with a large box.
"We've got your outfit ready, Lord Gryffindor."
"So soon?" asked Harry.
Lucinda nodded. "The Queen said that she would be pleased to see you wearing it at the Order of the Thistle service, so my staff and I dropped everything else."
"Wonderful," Harry replied, with a tone of voice that suggested otherwise.
"If you would try it on, please, Lord Gryffindor?" the seamstress asked. "I'll just step outside for a few minutes."
Harry sighed, but nodded his head in acceptance and removed his suit jacket. Once the seamstress left he closed the window blinds, opened the box, removed its contents, and stripped down to his t-shirt and boxer shorts. The white silk tuxedo shirt and black bow tie were by now familiar to Harry, and near identical to what he wore in his mess dress uniform. There was also a black Argyle suit jacket and matching vest that were similar enough to "normal" clothing. But then there was the worsted wool kilt…
Without a manufacturer's label sewn into the back of the waistline, Harry struggled to recall that the other kilts he'd seen worn had the flat aprons in the front. Once that decision was made, there were leather straps and buckles to secure on each hip, and two wide belt loops in the back to accommodate a large black belt, whose huge silver buckle bore the royal crest. Once the kilt was in place, Harry donned the long cream-colored wool socks, held up by special tartan garters known as "flashers." Black tongue-less leather shoes know as "Ghillie Brogues" completed the basic outfit.
Leaving the silver kilt pin and the waistpack-like sporran in the box, Harry called the seamstress back into his office. She entered and immediately began to inspect her handiwork, pulling at this and that piece of fabric.
"Not bad for a first go, Lord Gryffindor," she said with a smile. She grabbed the kilt pin from the box and dropped to her knees in front of Harry. "This pin keeps the apron in place," she noted, as she put the pin in place. Dragging her hand across the kilt's apron, presumably to flatten it, she added, "And your socks should have a wider cuff." She then reached out to fix the offending hosiery. It was then that she noted a horizontal line across the pleat of his kilt.
"That's strange...the interior lining shouldn't show that way, unless…." She got up from the floor and announced. "I'm expecting that Her Majesty would expect the Queen's Wizard to wear his kilt in the traditional manner, Lord Gryffindor."
"What's that mean?"
The seamstress smirked and replied, "It means that you'll need to remove your boxer shorts."
Harry's head jerked back with a startle. "Really?"
"Yes, Lord Gryffindor…come now, I haven't all day."
"You mean I need to remove them now?"
"Unless you'd wish me to do it for you," the seamstress said with a waggle of her eyebrows. "Here, I'll turn my back, for you."
Once she turned, Harry rather sheepishly reached up under the kilt's hemline and removed his underwear. After wadding it up into a ball and hiding it inside his trousers, he said, "Right, then, I'm set."
The seamstress turned back around, looked down at Harry's waist, and smiled. "Much, much better," she decided. She then reached for the sporran and the chain that held it up.
"Almost a shame to cover up the lovely way you dress left," she quipped, as she wrapped her arms around Harry's waist and fixed the sporran to its chain.
Harry had spent enough time around Wally the clothes hound to know what the seamstress meant by "dress left," but didn't allow her the pleasure of knowing that he knew.
"Are we done then?" he asked.
The seamstress nodded. "The Queen suggests that your badge be fixed to the front of the sporran. Other than that, you're good to go for this afternoon."
"Are you certain that I'm supposed to wear this today?"
The seamstress nodded. "We're rushing to finish the skirts and shawls for the ladies, and if they're to wear them today, then you should too."
Just then, Harry's mobile chirped. He reached over to his trousers, which were draped over his desk chair, and fished the device from the front pocket. Noting the caller ID, he apologized to the seamstress for needing to take the call and answered.
"Yes, Steve?" he asked. "She does?….When?….You mean Right now, Right now?….Right, then."
Harry shook his head as he ended the mobile call. He looked at the phone, then down at his outfit, and frowned.
"You'll find the sporran has more than enough room for your mobile," the seamstress said with a smile.
Harry snorted. "If you'll excuse me, the Queen requires my presence."
"What a surprise," the seamstress said with an impish grin. "I'll be seeing you then, Lord Gryffindor," she added, before leaving the office.
Realizing that the Queen had set him up for a fashion show, Harry shook his head and sighed as he slipped his wand up the sleeve of his new jacket, and made his way back to the State Apartments.
oo00OO00oo
Once the Queen and her witches-in-waiting gave their stamps of approval on Harry's attire, the Queen indirectly asked, "We were wondering if there was any change in the bank robbery notification issue."
Harry shook his head. "No, ma'am, still no contact from the Ministry."
The Queen nodded. "We have been considering the potential next step this morning," she announced. "We understand that the magical U.N. is now located in Japan?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. There isn't a permanent base, but there is an official office kept by the magical ministry of the Chief Mugwump's home country or region, and the new Chief is Japanese."
"And are you aware of the state of relations between the Japanese muggle and magical governments?"
"Not specifically, ma'am," Harry admitted. "I understand that was a wide range of responses when the Prime Minister's Office and MI-6 informed their counterparts that Saturday's attack involved magic, rather than WMDs…some of the other muggle leaders had already figured it out on their own, some had been told by their own wizard leaders, and others didn't know what the heck we were talking about."
The Queen smiled. "So we learned from the Prime Minister, Gryffindor. The reason that we ask is that we are well acquainted with most of the world's monarchs, and good friends with more than a few. The muggle Emperor of Japan is one of these friends, and a Stranger Knight of the Order of the Garter. We would consider asking for the Emperor's assistance, were it though advisable by my Wizard and his Consort."
Harry raised an eyebrow at the Consort reference, but held his tongue on that point.
"I think that it would be a great idea…would you like me to check with Dame Hermione?"
The Queen nodded, swatting away the recognition of Harry's lapse of protocol with a mental shrug. She expected Harry to ask for her leave, but was only mildly surprised when he activated his Art Club badge and immediately rang-up Hermione.
"Harry?" asked Hermione once she answered. "What's wrong?"
"I had a question for you."
"Can it wait? Because I'm in the middle of a COBRA meeting…"
"So are all of the big wigs there?"
"Yes," Hermione hissed. "Except, of course, for your boss…"
"Well, that's okay, because I'm with her right now, and she was wondering if her giving her good friend the Emperor of Japan a call might help things with the new Chief Mugwump."
There was a moment of silence, and then Hermione said, "Merlin, why didn't we think of that?"
"It is pleasing to know that we are of some utility on occasion, Dame Hermione," chimed in the Queen.
"Eep!" said Hermione over the badge. "My apologies, Your Majesty, I wasn't aware that you were actually there, erm… I mean, within hearing range."
"Not a problem, Dame Hermione," the Queen replied warmly. "We trust that your somewhat casual demeanor was influenced by Lord Gryffindor's rather cavalier attitude towards a fuller description of your audience."
"Oops," Harry said with a grin.
"Oops is right, mister," said Hermione. "If it were to please Your Majesty, I could step back into the meeting and query the Prime Minister?"
"Please do, Dame Hermione," the Queen said.
While Hermione went off-line to pose the question to the COBRA members, the Queen instructed Harry to inform her staff if the couch in his guest suite required bed linens that evening. Susan and Steve were delighted with the Queen's sense of humor.
Harry…less so.
oo00OO00oo
1:30pm, 10 Downing Street, London
The Prime Minister of Great Britain was sorting through his messages whilst half-listening to a conference call with his political party's leaders when an new e-mail message popped into his in-box. Given the sender's address, he immediately read it, typed in a curt reply, then begged off the balance of the conference call citing need to take care of an urgent issue.
"I'll be out for a few minutes, Millie," he said, as he walked out of his office and past his administrative aide.
"Yes, sir," his aide replied.
The Prime Minister walked half-way down the hall that approached his office, checked that no one else was in the corridor, then open a coat closet door, pushed a aside a few jackets hung on hangers, and stepped inside. An overhead lamp fixture turned on, shedding just enough light for him to find the umbrella that needed to be pulled from its stand before he could walk through the false back wall. Behind this charmed wall was the magically-expanded, brightly lit office of his Senior Advisor and Special Ambassador to the Wizarding World.
Hermione was sitting behind her large oak desk, talking on the telephone.
"So you think you'll have how many of those UV lamps ready by tonight? Twelve?" she asked. "Well, that's a start, I guess….call Wally or Harry when they're ready and they'll see that they make it up North for evening patrol." She then looked up, realized that she had a guest in her office, and suddenly said, "Sorry, I've got to go, call me back if there's anything else."
Hermione hung up the telephone, and said, "I'm sorry Prime Minister, I didn't hear the bell when you entered the closet."
"No worries, Hermione," the Prime Minister replied.
"That was Q-branch," she noted. "They'll have a dozen high-intensity ultraviolet lights ready to test out tonight on the Dementor patrols."
"Excellent," he said. "Hermione, The Lord Chamberlain just sent me an e-mail, requesting that I was to release you from work in order to attend the Order of the Thistle service up in Edinburgh."
Hermione looked down at her watch, and frowned.
"Yes, sir," she said. "I just need to finish revising my brief for this afternoon's COBRA meeting…."
"No, Hermione, you don't understand," the Prime Minister said with a smile. "That was a tactful way for Her Majesty to order me to kick you out of your office and up to Scotland."
"But…"
"I'm sure that your brief is fine the way it is, Hermione."
"Yes, sir," she said.
"Oh, I almost forgot," said the Prime Minister. "The Lord Chamberlain thought it important for me to mention that you should use Wally as an anchor point, and that Sir Harry is presently wearing a kilt."
Hermione's eyebrows rose up towards her forehead.
"He is, is he?" she asked. She quickly stood and reached for her bag. Gathering it to her chest, she looked at her boss, who was still standing in front of her desk.
"Oh, by all means, go," he said with a smile. "I can find my way back to my office."
Hermione smiled. "Thank you sir." She then activated her badge, called Wally, and jumped to Scotland.
oo00OO00oo
"It's about time, love," Wally said, once Hermione had materialized in Holyrood and caught her bearings. "Sir Harry is already at the Signet Library with the Queen."
"Yes, well, duty does call on occasion," she replied.
Wally had stepped out of the control room that monitored the Palace's CCTV network, so that Hermione's arrival was discreet. Noticing the empty room, Hermione drew her wand and began thinking about transfiguring her outfit into something appropriate.
"Oh, don't' worry about your clothing, Dame Hermione," Wally said with a smile. "I left something out for you to wear on your bed."
Hermione smiled as she shook her head in disbelief. "So it's not enough to play dress-up with Harry?"
Wally chuckled. "Let's go…I don't want to be gone long from the control room."
"I can dress myself, you know," Hermione stated.
"Yes, yes, now let's get you upstairs and get you out of that boring gray," Wally replied.
Five minutes later Hermione stepped out of her bedroom and into the sitting room that made up part of their guest suite. She was now dressed in a plain white long-sleeved blouse with lace ruffled cuffs, and a calf-length knife-pleated red and gold tartan skirt. A black bonnet was on her head, and a tartan shawl was draped over her right shoulder and pinned into place with her Order of Arthur badge.
"I'm amazed that it fits," she noted, as Wally looked her over.
"We took the liberty of borrowing from your wardrobe to get an idea on sizing," Wally explained. "You look very nice," he added, "Except that the shawl should be worn on the left shoulder."
"Really?" asked Hermione. "But last night the Headmistress wore hers on the right side."
Wally shook his head, and tsk-tsk'ed her. "Sure, go ahead, make that mistake, I'm just the one that's worked in the Royal Household for years and years."
"Okay, okay," said Hermione, as she switched the shawl around.
oo00OO00oo
With a whispered warning that he was in the presence of unaware muggles, Harry asked Hermione to wait until he called her back before she used him as a anchor. A few seconds later he gave her the all-clear, and she badge-jumped into a rather lavish water closet.
The first thing that blurted out of her mouth when she saw Harry's outfit was, "Oh, how cute, we match."
Harry laughed. "No we don't," he replied, after pulling her into a welcoming kiss, "my skirt is a lot shorter than yours."
Hermione smiled. "You know, if you had told me that you were wearing a kilt I would have been here hours ago."
"That's why I didn't tell you," Harry replied with a grin. "Your work is far more important that the opportunity to view my knobby knees."
Hermione reached down and cupped Harry's bare leg just above one of those knees. "I'll be the judge of that, Lord Gryffindor," she said.
As she slowly dragged her hand up Harry's leg she saucily asked, "So tell me, what's worn underneath a wizard's kilt?"
Harry's eyes sparkled. "You should know better than anyone, Hermione."
"Is that so?"
Harry nodded. "Yes...nothing is worn underneath…everything is in perfect working order."
A pout flashed over Hermione's lips as she pinched some flesh on his thigh. "Oh, that's a terrible pun, Mr. Potter."
The Queen's Wizard leaned forward and nuzzled his nose against Hermione's. "So tell me that I'm not the only one going commando today."
Hermione chuckled as she moved her hand out from underneath Harry's kilt and used it to press down on the lapel of his jacket. "Let's go, Romeo, before more than my hand dives under that kilt."
"Promises, promises," Harry replied, as he walked over to the water closet door. After making sure that the coast was clear, he shoo'ed his girlfriend out into the hallway.
Hermione noticed some strange reactions from women that they passed in the hallway, but attributed it the "his and hers" matching tartans. This thought was challenged when they entered the antechamber to the Queen's dressing room, and found Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot wearing outfits identical to her own...save that their shawls were hung from their right shoulders.
"Hi, Hermione," Susan said brightly, as she rushed forward and gave an unexpected hug. "I'm so happy that you decided to join Harry's harem."
Harry snorted, but wiped the smirk off his face when Hermione looked at him crossly.
"She's joking, aren't you Susan?" he asked.
"Sure, Harry, whatever you say," said Hannah, as she walked up, kissed his cheek, then grabbed his other arm. She leaned towards Hermione and said, "No worries, Hermione, all of us expect you to be the primary wife."
Harry chuckled, despite himself.
"Relax, Hermione," he said. "This tartan is the new uniform for the witches and wizards in service to the Queen."
"How so?" she demanded.
"Swatches of this fabric have been distributed to every muggle sniper looking over Parliament Square, this afternoon," he explained. It's a "don't shoot me if I draw a wand" signal."
"What was wrong with the robes we wore when we arrived?" Hermione demanded.
"Not enough of them," Harry replied. "Head of security wants everyone on our side to wear the same colors…I expect the Headmistress to be wearing the Potter tartan at the Garden Party tomorrow."
"Headmistress McGonagall?" asked Hannah. "It's your harem, Harry, but don't you think she's a bit old for you?"
"Stop it, Hannah," Harry admonished.
The Hufflepuff witch dropped her eyes demurely and curtsied. "Yes, Master."
"Hannah!" he whined.
The doors to the dressing room opened at that point, saving Harry from additional teasing.
Or so he thought.
"Oh, there you are, Lord Gryffindor…we're ready," said the attendant. The matronly woman then looked at Hermione with the same sort of look that they'd received in the hallway. Except that those other women didn't say, "Forgive me, Lady Gryffindor, but I was unaware of your blessed elevation. My heartiest congratulations."
Thinking that the attendant was in on the harem joke, Hermione quipped. "Thank you, ma'am, but if my Lord is to have a harem, then I insist on being his first wife."
The muggle women pursed her lips, then turned them into a tight-lipped smile. "Yes, my Lady. If you please, Her Royal Majesty requests her Wizard's presence."
"Okay, sure," Harry replied with a nod. "Shall we, ladies?"
"Oh, yes, Master," said Hermione, with mock devotion.
As Harry led her inside, she didn't see Hannah and Susan giving each other puzzled looks. What she couldn't help but see, though, was the Queen dressed in full Order of the Thistle attire, laughing heartily as they entered the room.
"Oh, my," the Queen said in between chortles. "We are so pleased that you could attend us, Dame Hermione…or should we say Lady Gryffindor?"
Hermione smiled politely and moved her lips just enough to whisper to Susan Bones.
"So the Queen is in on your harem joke too, Susan?"
The witch-in-waiting snorted. "Actually she wasn't, and neither was her attendant."
Hermione began to panic. "My apologies, Your Majesty, but I am not yet Lady Gryffindor…was there reason to suspect otherwise?"
The Queen raised an eyebrow that disappeared underneath her foppish black hat. "Your sash, Dame Hermione…only the wife of a clan chief wears her tartan sash over the left shoulder."
Hermione gave the other two witches a curt look. Susan shrugged her shoulders. "We just followed how the Headmistress wore it last night. If we had known, we would have put them on the left side just to add to the harem prank."
The Queen smiled. "What of this so-called 'harem prank', Gryffindor?"
Harry smiled. "Your witches-in-waiting thought it would be funny to pretend that wearing the Clan Potter tartan signified membership within my harem."
"Really?" asked the Queen. "Well, we are not certain what your Weasley Twins will make of their kilts, then."
Harry laughed and nodded. He then turned towards his girlfriend, who had a calculating looking in her eyes.
"Hermione?" he asked.
After a moment, his Consort shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I was just sifting through a variety of potential pranks for the person who insisted that I wear the shawl this way."
"Wally?" Susan asked.
The brightest witch of her generation nodded, and then said, "It'll be easy enough to hex Wally's skin scarlet red…it's adding the gold tartan pattern that will be the tricky part."
oo00OO00oo
5:00pm, 10 Downing Street, London
The sides of the gray business suit jacket that Hermione had changed back into upon her return from Edinburgh fluttered in the headwind as she briskly strode out the afternoon COBRA meeting and made her way to her office. She dumped her leather portfolio onto her desk, and replaced the meeting briefs with an expanding folder marked "EVIDENCE." Grabbing hold of a parchment letter that she'd written just before the meeting, she checked her office for anything she might need, then locked the door and walked down the hall to the Prime Minister's Office.
"You can go right in," his administrative aide said from behind her desk. "He's waiting for you."
"Thank you, Millie," the young witch said, as she walked past the aide's desk, knocked twice (despite the clearance to barge right in), and politely waited for an invitation before she opened the door and stepped inside.
"I've got the ICW notification that needs your signature, sir," she said, as she approached the Prime Minister's desk.
"Oh goody, I get to practice my calligraphy," the Prime Minister replied, as he pulled open a desk drawer and retrieved a quill and ink pot.
A Great Horned owl caught sight of the pen and parchment from his corner roost and began to bob and stretch out his wings.
Catching this motion in the corner of his eye, the Prime Minister turned and apologized to his owl. "Sorry, Beckham, but I've asked Ambassador Granger to deliver this letter to Japan."
The owl stared at both Hermione and the Prime Minister. Having years of practice reading Hedwig's body language, Hermione knew that Beckham's feelings were hurt. As the Prime Minister carefully signed his name to the bottom of the letter, she walked over to the roost and petted his feathered back.
"Beckham, you are such a strong and reliable owl…we know that you could deliver the letter for us," she said with reassurance. "But it would take you at least two days to get there, and two days back, and the Prime Minister needs you here…in case he needs to contact the Minister of Magic. You're the only one he'd trust to deliver such important letters."
Hermione then leaned forward and spoke softly into the owl's ear.
"Now I'm going to be away for a little while," she noted, "and I need someone that I can rely upon to look after the Prime Minister and his family. Would you do that for me?"
The owl turned his head to look at Hermione, rotated it 180 degrees to stare at the Prime Minister, then returned its gaze and bobbed its head up and down.
"Thank you, Beckham," Hermione cooed. "If there's any trouble, you fly straight to my Harry for help, okay?"
Again the owl nodded, and leaned into the scratch that the young witch was giving behind his ear.
There was a knock on the door, and the administrative aide stepped inside with a large thick envelope.
"Ambassador Granger's travel documents have arrived, sir," she said, as she set the envelope down on the desk next to the parchment. Whatever interest she had in the fact that her boss had an eagle feather quill in his hand was kept to herself.
"Thank you," said the Prime Minister.
"Let's make sure that my Special Ambassador is sent out into the world properly," he said, as he opened the envelope and dumped out the contents.
"Do you give this level of attention to all of your ambassadors, sir?" asked Hermione.
The Prime Minister looked up, smiled, and shook his head. "No…but then again you are my only teen-aged envoy, this is your first diplomatic mission, and the Queen's Wizard would hex me if I allowed you to get hurt."
Hermione sighed. "Has he said anything to you specifically?"
The Prime Minister shook his head. "Doesn't need too…I feel like I'm sending my own daughter out into harm's way."
"No worries, Prime Minister," she replied. "And, thanks…I'm..erm…honored that you think of me that way."
The Prime Minister waved off the comment as he looked down at the envelope's contents. "So, a plane ticket to Oslo…good, they've put you in Club Class…your diplomatic passport…a stack of Krone, two stacks of Yen…" He looked up at Hermione and asked, "What about wizard money?"
His Senior Advisor shook her head as she approached the desk and slipped the bank notes into the inside pocket of her jacket. "I've already got a bag full of galleons, sir, and a Gringott's draft drawn on the Queen's account in case I need extra."
"Good, good," the Prime Minister said. "Are you all set then?"
"Yes, sir, I think so," Hermione replied. "I packed an overnight bag, just in case, and the evidence and supporting documentation are in my portfolio."
"And you aren't going to carry your sidearm, right?"
Hermione nodded. "It would cause too many problems if it was discovered. Not too worry, though…I've still got my wand, and I'll swing by Q Branch before I leave to load up on toys."
As the Prime Minister nodded in understanding, Hermione picked up the soft burgundy-colored passport, noting that it differed from her old passport only in that the word "DIPLOMAT" was embossed in gold on the cover.
"I do hope that the lack of travel documents from the Ministry of Magic won't be an issue," the Prime Minister said.
Hermione shook her head. "We should be fine there," she replied with a smile. "Amazing what kind of doors are opened when Her Majesty rings up a few of her colleagues and asks for help."
"Yes, indeed," the Prime Minister replied. "I've met the Norwegian king and Japanese emperor myself, and it's only because of the assurances that they'll look after you that I'm letting you go."
"Thank you, sir," Hermione replied. "It's actually rather exciting…the thought of traveling halfway around the world in a few minutes's time."
The Prime Minister nodded as he stood and took hold of the signed parchment. "Well, I see that your flight leaves in a few hours, and if you're stopping by MI-5 ¾, then I should let you go."
"Yes, sir."
"Travel out to the airport arranged?"
Hermione nodded. "I can arrange for a car at Windsor."
"And you do have a satellite phone, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good," said the Prime Minister. "Then I'll be expecting calls from both Oslo and Kyoto."
Hermione nodded.. She was certain that the Prime Minister wouldn't be the only one to insist on that level of communication. Fortunately, she would be able to talk to her parents and Harry at the same time using their badges.
Holding out his hand, the Prime Minister said, "Good luck, Ambassador,"
"Thank you, Prime Minister," Hermione replied, as she traded a firm handshake. "I won't let you down."
oo00OO00oo
Later that evening, Harry Potter insisted on escorting his girlfriend to Heathrow.
"I don't want you to go," he stated, as an armored car whisked them the short distance from Windsor Castle to Heathrow.
"Harry," Hermione said, "Let's not start this again, okay? If anything, I'm more worried about your guest appearances with the SAS tonight."
"We'll be fine," Harry replied. "Twenty commandos, plus most of TPOMS, against a dozen junior Death Eaters spread out between two houses…"
"Yes, well, I'll be fine as well," Hermione replied. "I'll only be on my own for the first leg to Oslo, and with luck I'll be back in Britain before the morning."
Shaking his head, Harry said, "I still don't like it."
Hermione turned and pulled Harry into a hug. "I know you don't, Harry," she said. "But you've got your job, I've got mine, and we both need to let the other do what they can do to make the best of all this."
"Yes, dear," Harry said with a smirk.
"Hey!" he yelled, as the previous quip earned him a punch in the arm.
"I love you, Harry," said Hermione with a warm smile.
The Queen's Wizard eyes went wide, and then he leaned forward to deliver a tender kiss.
"I love you, too."