Everything Has a Price

(sigh) I don't know what to say, except for sorry. I've been pretty busy lately, and having to deal with the remedial period of University after the months long strike has left me with barely any time to rest, much less write something fun like this. I wanted this chapter to be longer, but having to write three tests in a row that all had time limits really dampened my enthusiasm to do much of anything. It didn't help that this chapter really didn't want to be written. However, I've finally put it together and I hope you all enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 5: Mother's Gambit

After sitting in the same chair for six hours without pause, Christina decided that if she ever had to set foot in a legal facility again it would be too soon.

These men discussing her future had never once asked her what she wanted or even what her opinion of anything was, yet she had to be present and sit in silence as they debated. She wasn't allowed to listen in on the reading of her mother's real will; whatever she had written, it had sent the bureaucrats in a uproar. She'd heard a lot of arguing behind the closed doors, and what little she could understand was legal jargon that was very difficult to parse. What she did understand was 'a challenge?', 'fostering, not adoption', and 'paranoid woman' – the last of which made her want to kick someone, because her mother had died for not being paranoid enough, and how dare they judge a woman wanting to protect her daughter?

She'd thought it would be over after the will reading – hah! She'd been forced to sit in a legal courtroom, listening to the discussion of the "extradition" of the Dursleys and their hearing, for hours on end despite the fact she was only allowed a vocal testimony and wouldn't even stand in public before the court. Probably the worst part was when a toad-like woman in a pink cardigan stepped forward to give a speech – if it could be called that! She used more redundant phrases than a dictionary, twisting her sentences into riddles in a way that was supposed to seem profound and intelligent, but was actually empty and meaningless. It truly was 'the sound of fury, signifying nothing'. Which was fitting for a hollow, ambitious social climber like her. She didn't give a fig about Christina, she just wanted the Ministry to look good.

The talking, ah gods the talking...it was like being surrounded by a horde of birds, pecking and squawking in an endless cacophony of meaningless noise. When Kingsley finally rescued her from the courtroom and took her out of the building, Christina had felt as though she were an inch from going mad. As she stumbled out of the red phone box that served as the Ministry's entrance, she took back every irritation she'd ascribed to her mundane grade school – this was so much worse!

"Can we leave?" She asked, looking up at him with faint desperation. "Please, Mister Kingsley."

Kingsley looked sympathetically at her. "Of course. It's a madhouse in there, isn't it?"

"It's a madhouse everywhere here!" Lord, she should not be getting hysterical, but she was so fed up with all of this. She almost wished she was back in the cupboard so she could have some peace, solitude. "Everyone stares at me like I'm an exhibit in the zoo; they all talk at me and not to me! I feel like I'm a freak show; please, can we leave? I...I want to be alone!"

Kingsley's expression cycled between concern, confusion and uncertainty before he nodded. Christina, gripping the handle of the trunk as though it were her only lifeline, dove into the crowd and made her way back towards the Leaky Cauldron, where the Floo passage awaited, shouldering past dozens of wizards who all gasped and shouted and tried to get her attention. The blood was roaring in her ears. She hated this so much; where was the glory in merely living past her second birthday? That's all she'd done, her mother had saved her, her father had saved her, these people were either misinformed or willfully ignorant! And for people in the Ministry to be attempting to look good in front of her...What were they expecting of her?

What would be the price of failing to live up to the image of this saintly child savior?

The thought sat heavy in the bottom of her stomach; her excitement about reaching the world she'd belonged in had become distant indeed. Christina scrambled into the Floo and screwed her eyes shut as Kingsley called out a word she'd never heard before - "Hogsmeade". The green fire roared around them, briefly taking Christina back to a time she'd spilled oil on the stove resulting in flames leaping up and singing her hair. Wizard travel was hard on the stomach, she decided as she stumbled out of the fire place, feeling slightly sick. Kingsley offered her a hand to regain her balance.

Christina blinked a few times and looked around. They had entered a small pub that was occupied only by a handful of people sitting at various tables, talking quietly; teachers, all of them, taking a late afternoon meal before grading papers. She looked inquisitively up at Kingsley.

"Welcome to Hogsmeade." Kingsley said kindly, his voice pitched low so as to not draw attention to them. "This is a small village next to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Since its out in the Scotland countryside, most of the news regarding your arrival won't have broken here yet; we should be able to enjoy some peace and quiet."

"Scotland?!" Christina gasped, spinning around and staring at the Floo entrance. She had come into Diagon Alley via the Knight Bus, so this was the first time she'd used this sort of travel. "But we were just in London! Ah...how far does Floo travel go?"

"Depending on the connection? It can take you from one side of the country to the other. As far as I know, the only distance it can't cross are lakes and oceans." Kingsley responded.

"How does that work? How can we travel so quickly?"

"It's magic." Kingsley couldn't help a small smile when Christina pouted in response to that explanation – only briefly, but that reaction made her seem more the child she truly was than the melancholy mini adult she usually was. "I'm afraid I don't know the specifics; you'd have to ask one of the operators sometime." He glanced at the counter. "Would you like to try a butterbeer?"

Christina tilted her head. "What's that?"

Butterbeer, as it turned out, was a very sweet drink that was sort of like a milkshake with extra buzz. (Christina had a vague idea of what milkshakes tasted like thanks to that one time a girl in the cafeteria dumped one on her head.) Kingsley let her choose a table near the back and went to the desk alone so she wouldn't have to engage with anyone. The man at the head of the pub was very old, tired and sour, and had a face that read of a lifetime of regrets. Christina briefly wondered what had happened to him over the years before lowering her eyes to the table again; there were a handful of students and teachers going here and there after all.

Christina took another sip from her mug and gazed intently at it for several moments, instinctive caution warring with her newfound confidence. "Mister Kingsley?" She asked at last. "What happened during the reading of my mom's will? The people sounded really...well, indigent and confused and sort of panicked. No one would tell me anything when I asked." She paused. "What's going to happen to me?"

Kingsley thought for a moment to find out how best to answer. "Well, your mother's real will contained something no one was expecting." He explained. "It had a clause that stated that in the event of her will being tampered with, everything except your inheritance is revoked. That included lists of prospective guardians the Ministry might have put together in the absence of your parent's chosen guardian."

"Who was that?" Christina asked. "It wasn't Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon? Why did I never meet them?"

"It seems not." Kingsley said hesitantly. "Originally, you were going to life with your godfather, Sirius Black. However..." his eyes skittered away for a moment, and Christina strangled her annoyance knowing that something was being withheld from her again. "...Black was convicted of spying for You-Know-Who during the war. In any event, your mother has set up a test to ensure that your guardianship did not default to someone without your best interests at heart."

"How?" Christina asked.

Kingsley smiled faintly. "Apparently, your mother dealt with spirits to some extent." Christina's heart jumped; her heel pressing against the trunk under the table. "She communed with a fae spirit who is currently haunting the back yard of the cottage where...it happened." Where they died. You can say it. You've already told me as much. "Fae are famous for being tricksters; they can see into people's hearts and use that knowledge to play nasty pranks, lure young witches and wizards into the wild never to be seen again...they can be quite capacious, and dangerous to deal with. But they uphold any covenant made with them; if your mother asked it to find an honest guardian for you, then you can trust whomever it passes."

"...She was allowed to do that?" She asked cautiously. Had public perception of certain 'forbidden' magic changed during the war?

"When it comes to protecting her family, almost anything is permitted. Family magics are more precious than gold to many in our world." Kingsley sat back a bit. "Some things are frowned upon. Fae, depending on their temperament, can be very dangerous. If your mother hadn't been the clever woman that she was, communing with one could have ended very poorly for her."

So Mama said. I need to find her other notebooks, she has to keep her notes on summoning in one of them. Then I'll be able to see her. Christina fidgeted. "How often do spirits appear before people?" She asked.

"Spirits rarely show themselves directly, unlike ghosts," Kingsley said. Christina blanched a bit, ghosts?, "and they rarely interact with the physical world. Friendly spirits mostly watch, though they may bend luck in your favor if they take a liking to you. The...more malevolent among them have to be invited to manifest, and once they are, they rampage around until they are dispelled again."

Christina looked down at the table again. "So people are going to the spirit trial right now?" She asked, carefully moving the conversation away from spirits. "I don't have any other family?" Father didn't have any family?

Kingsley shook his head slightly. "I'm sorry; I know this is difficult for you..." he offered platitudes and comforts, but Christina didn't bear them any mind. Words rarely meant anything. Instead she frowned at her mug, wondering what sort of person the fae would choose for her to live with.

She found herself wishing she could talk to Padma again. The other girl had suggested a number of books to her, like The Beetle and the Bard and The Lion and the Serpent. She had shown great interest in Frankenstein when Christina had shown her the book, and they had discussed a couple of their favorite scenes from various books when Kingsley had come to collect her for that circus of a legal event. Christina wasn't sure she wanted a friend, but she was cautiously optimistic about potential ties to Padma; at the very least, the other girl was interesting. Christina had been surprised by how much she'd enjoyed their conversation; maybe it was because she'd spent so long surrounded by people who either had nothing interesting to say, or were too intimidated to say much of anything.

What she had picked up from this miserable day was that the magic of binding and communing wasn't wholly looked down upon. That was good; hopefully that meant it wouldn't raise too many eyebrows to be interested in the subject. She could take a little head-shaking and disapproving looks, as she honestly didn't care what anyone thought as long as they didn't try and investigate her. She wanted people to keep their distance. Aunt Petunia had always wanted people too look at her, admire her. She would have thrived in this circus, surrounded by sycophants and artificial admiration. That was enough to dislike the whole mess on principle, though Christina's feelings ran deeper than that.

A guardian...fostering...Christina stared at the bottom of her mug contemplatively. All she wanted was for them to let her have her own room, and to occasionally leave her to her own devices. Yet all of this nonsense was leaving her cynical. So maybe mother's fae would keep any opportunist from taking her as a charity case. And? She was still going to be hounded by this "girl who lived" myth until her dying day, wasn't she? It was going to affect how any guardian looked at her.

She wished Voldemort had never existed. She wished her parents were still alive. She almost wished she was a muggle. (Muggle, muggle, muggle. No matter how many times Christina tested the word, it sounded infantile – as if she were speaking of baby animals, not humans.) But wishes never helped anyone. Whatever happened next, she would just have to live with it.

Christina didn't sleep much that night; since the stress was keeping her awake, she'd descended into the trunk and read Darkest Wizards of the Past Century until the early morning. Voldemort, the self styled 'pureblood' master of the Dark Arts, had raised an army of like minded individuals in an attempt to take over Magical Britain and remake it in his image. A classist of the highest order, a psychopath (he was repeatedly noted as having killed minions for failing him) with no mind for collateral damage (the International Confederation of Wizards had to chip in to keep the magical community from being exposed to muggles during his rampage, since his attacks were so indiscriminate), and a man obsessed with power, Voldemort had cultivated an image of an unbeatable, undying champion of magic, until the night he killed her mother.

After reading these sections, Christina became uneasy; her mother was born to non magical parents. Clearly there was an undercurrent of disapproval towards those who weren't born to magical parents, if Voldemort could raise an entire army using that as a recruitment hook. At that point, she returned to her mother's journal and located the one letter she hadn't opened yet.

It was quite illuminating. Technically speaking, Christina was a half blood, since her mother was muggleborn and her father was pure blood. HOWEVER, her father was a Potter and the Viscount of Blackmoor; his family tree went back for nearly twenty generations, and as the sole living Heiress, Christina would be treated as a pure blood by high society and accorded certain special privileges. However, the letter warned her that many would see her as an upstart half blood and she needed to be careful who she associated with.

Christina rubbed her temples, muttering every Russian curse she'd overheard that one time Vernon rear ended someone in traffic. She resisted the urge to bang her head against the headboard of the bed in the Leaky Cauldron to avoid breaking it. This was ridiculous. All of this was ridiculous. Half blood...muggleborn...what was the point of these ridiculous labels? Magic was magic; blood magic wasn't affected by who your parents were – muggle blood could be used in blood rituals as long as a wizard was preforming the magic. So what in the flying nine hells was this?!

There was a knock on the door. Christina rubbed her eyes, closed the book and swung her feet over the side of the bed to rest on top of her trunk. "Mister Kingsley?" She asked. "You can come in."

Kingsley stepped inside and smiled at her. "The fae has chosen, Christina. I've been told to show you to your new guardian."

"Oh," Christina murmured in surprise. "I see." Grabbing her hoodie off the chair and putting her shoes on, she grabbed her trunk handle and warily followed Kingsley down towards the entrance. I will manage, she told herself. I managed with the Dursleys, I shall manage with whoever comes to me. Even if they just want to be seen taking care of me, even if they just want me to like them and feel grateful and care for them later on, I can manage that, I always have...

Just outside the Leaky Cauldron, Kingsley greeted a tall, dark skinned man with black hair and warm, friendly brown eyes. He wore simple dress clothes and offered her his hand when she met his eyes. "Hello, Christina. I'm Arjun Patil; I'll be taking care of you for now." He smiled at her startled expression. "Padma is excited to talk to you again."

End Chapter

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