Chapter Four: Six
Professor Minerva McGonagall was on a mission. A pair of her students, among her favorites currently attending Hogwarts, had asked her to be their son's godmother. She couldn't say no to them. She especially couldn't say no to Harry. Not for this. It was an honor that the strict Professor of Transfiguration and Deputy Headmistress was rarely asked, but that wasn't why she had said yes.
The missive asking her had been delivered by Harry's owl, and Hedwig had obviously been told not to return until an answer was provided. As that white snowy owl had sat on the stand on the Scottish professor's desk, staring right at her, McGonagall had been reminded of a baby boy, wrapped in his blanket, left on the stoop of a house in Little Whinging more than a decade ago. That image was soon replaced by the same boy, dressed in black Hogwarts robes as she placed the Sorting Hat on his head. Then there had been the horrible image of scars on his naked back, revealed when Hermione had lifted the covers off the sleeping boy.
No, there had been no way that McGonagall would have denied Harry his choice of godmother for his child.
The letter in reply had not been short. It could not be. It had also been very carefully written, on the best parchment that she had, just like the letter she'd received asking her. That letter was already preserved, under glass, in the Deputy Headmistress's treasury of memories.
She had to do more than just be there to stand as godmother, given the way she'd failed Harry after that October night. Minerva McGonagall felt that she owed something to Harry Potter, something that she'd never quite be able to fill. So, after quietly getting permission, she stood on the threshold of a carefully preserved cottage in Godric's Hollow.
The professor had been keyed into the wards by Albus Dumbledore, who even now stood outside the walls surrounding the cottage, cleaning up the graffiti on the memorial sign and stone walls. Some of her former students could use a good old fashioned lecture. He didn't want to enter with her, and though she hadn't told him so, she didn't want him to.
This was a private search. It would not be right to seek help to find this item for her new godson.
Minerva stepped around the outline that showed where James Potter had fell. It was not in the parlor, nor the kitchen, not that she'd expected it to be. So up the stairs she went, though not to the room that had once been Harry's. She would save that room for last, and hoped that it was not where it was.
In the master bedroom, the bed was still made, with one side turned down, an impression of someone's behind still visible in the disturbed covers. A single cup lay on the gray carpet, having stained it with whatever red liquid that it had once contained. Minerva checked the night stands on either side, but it wasn't there.
A search of the bathrooms and closets revealed nothing, as did the guest room. That left Minerva no choice but to go to the room where Lily had died, protecting her son.
The first thing that Minerva saw was the outline of where Lily had fallen, next to the crib. She looked up from there to the restored wall, only rebuilt to protect this sacred space where a mother had given her life for her only son. Everything had been restored in the room to the way it had been those few precious last seconds. As the sun streamed through the window, Minerva could not and would not stop the tears running down her cheeks. This was the last place that Harry Potter had felt loved in for more than a decade, and that love still filled the room in a potent reminder of what a true mother's love was.
There was a crib, with its mobile still moving, the little snitches still flapping to attract the attention of a long gone child, a changing table, a rocker, a wardrobe, and a bookcase. On the top shelf of the book case, lovingly preserved was a single candle, next to a folded white garment. The candle lit at Minerva's approach, a bit of accidental magic that Lily had once told her about. She claimed that it was Harry's first accidental magic. It wasn't burning down, the light was not by flame, but as if it was a wand casting lumos.
Minerva reached over and took the garment that had once clothed both father and son. Sunday it would be clothing a third generation at Jimmy Anthony's baptism.
Just before the Oracle was to enter the Adriatic, she surfaced next to a lonely fishing boat. The crew quicky moored the boat to the sub, and Lavender found herself once again walking across the top of the Oracle to meet someone.
As she climbed the ladder onto the fishing boat, Lavender had to wonder why they were boarding the vessel. She'd been told that the Oracle would be taking them all the way to the Albanian coast. Once they passed through the hatch to the lower decks, it became quite obvious. This was no fishing boat, not with the array of equipment attached to the wall. Some of it was highly complex electronics, others looked a lot like some really expensive stuff that were price on request in Diagon Alley.
The man Lavender had thought was the Captain, with his thinning wavy white hair and rumpled gray trench coat, suddenly changed before her eyes, when her Uncle Charlie addressed him. "What brings you down to the Adriatic, Q?"
"M sent me to update your outfit for this mission, 008," Q said. He now appeared to be wearing an impeccable gray three piece suit, with a Gryffindor tie. "And pay attention this time. There is no manual to read on any of these items. I assume this is nine and three quarters?"
"My niece," Uncle Charlie said.
"May I see your wand?" Q asked, pulling out a woven bracelet. Lavender handed it to him. Q waved it. "Golden oak, Hebridean Black dragon heart string, and precisely eleven inches. Unusual that Ollivander produces a wand that is exactly on the inch. Rather springy, and definitely not unyielding. Quite suitable for the mission. Put this bracelet on."
Lavender put the bracelet on while Q took out a micrometer and began measuring the diameter of her wand. He then handed the wand back. "Right, now if you'll press your wand into the bracelet, it should store itself right into it. Unfortunately, it will only store one wand. 008, please stay away from the laser sights."
Lavender looked up to discover that her uncle was examining other devices hung up around the room. "Right, they're James'."
"Actually, 003's," Q replied, picking up a book from a nearby table. "Now, nine and three quarters, we've provided you with secure communication to London via this diary. Whatever you write in it will appear in copy that will be monitored twenty-four hours a day in London. I am advised that your mother will not be allowed access, despite her clearance. We prefer that you use ink, failing that, number two lead."
"Yes, sir," Lavender replied.
"Now as to your outfits," Q said. "We've provided you with several dresses, packed in this back pack." He handed her the back pack, a rather typical looking black canvas one that would not have looked out of place, even at Hogwarts. "For the most part they are just dresses, armored to withstand small arms fire, of course, but otherwise normal. The belts, however, consist of an expanding rope, up to twenty-five feet, and a grappling hook disguised as the buckle. It is thought that you may find it useful."
"Twenty-five?" her Uncle Charlie asked. "My last one only had twenty feet."
"More material to work with, 008," Q said, picking up a men's watch. "Here, a new watch. It doubles as a detonator, as well as a homing beacon. Pull the stop out to use as a detonator, turn the dial ninety degrees to activate the homing signal."
"I assume that the Oracle has the receiver?" Uncle Charlie stated.
"Of course," Q replied, picking up a pack. "Your back pack. All the usual goodies, complete with an undetectable expansion charm and weight reduction charm. I've included a new tent, as well."
"More tastefully decorated this time, I assume?" Uncle Charlie asked, as he caught the pack and put it down beside him.
"We consulted with one from the current government," Q said. "Now, as for transportation, a couple of bicycles are in the tent, along with a 1940s German motorcycle with a side car. Use that as a last resort. Don't lose it. It's an antique."
"Understood," Uncle Charlie replied. "I'll try to bring it back in one piece."
"I won't get my hopes up, 008," Q replied, going over to a case full of small drawers. "Now, both of you will need one of these." He pulled out a ring. "Place it on the handle of your wands. Twist the two parts so an 'X' lines up, and you will get a significant power boost with your next spell."
Q handed both of them rings. "Thank you sir," Lavender said, as Q assisted her uncle in putting the ring on his wand, which had a bit of a twist to it.
"One last thing before I forget, nine and three quarters," Q said, turning back to her. "You can store your wand in any of the diamonds on your bracelet. Currently there is a Swiss Army knife stored on the red one. Now, 008, any questions?"
"Yes, did 007 get out of Sarajevo, or do I still need to be ready to detour to rescue him?" Uncle Charlie asked.
"If all goes well, he should meet you on the beach," Q said.
"Then I will get to borrow his car for once," Uncle Charlie said.
"Lord preserve us," Q muttered.
"Well, if that's all, Q, my niece and I have a beach to land on," Uncle Charlie said.
"Just one more thing, 008," Q replied, tossing a set of keys to him. "You'll need these."
Uncle Charlie smiled and turned to Lavender. Switching to Himariote Greek, he said."Time to get back to our ride." Then back to English, "See you in London, Q."