Cherchez la Femme

Maxwell picked the parchment up off the floor, carefully smoothed it, and read it.

The solicitor considered the matter while he patted her shoulder and summoned a house-elf to bring them more tea. "It's nothing to worry about, Mrs. Weasley. Those children are Squibs."

"My brother says she wouldn't come back unless she had a good reason," Maureen pointed out. "What if those boys aren't Squibs? What if someone made a mistake?"

"If they prove to be wizards, then they would be entitled to half of everything Mr. Weasley owns." Maxwell admitted. "He disavowed Miss... Grange was it?"

"Granger."

"Granger. That's right. He signed an Order of Renunciation and Repudiation for her, but did nothing about the boys. He didn't think it was necessary since they are Squibs and have no legal claim on him. It would have only cost him another fifty galleons." He leaned back and sipped his tea. "If they are wizards, they'd still have to file a claim and present a case before the Wizengamot."

"I knew I should've come with Ronnie to see you. But he said he would take care of everything!"

"I did suggest he disavow the children. After all, it's best to make sure of these things. It's not too late, though. As long as he signs an ORR before they file a claim, everything will be fine."

"He's not due back in England for weeks. And it's like pulling teeth to get him to do anything that he finds inconvenient. Can't I do anything to protect myself and my children?"

"Well..."

"What? Tell me!"

"According to your marriage contract, you are empowered to make catastrophic decisions for Mr. Weasley when he is not available. You could sign the ORR yourself. Mr. Weasley need never know."

Maureen's eyes lit up. "Draw up the Order, please, Maxwell. I'll sign it immediately." She paused for a moment. "But I want Ronnie to know what I did. Once it's signed, I want you to deliver it to him. This isn't something I want to risk getting lost. Or intercepted by the Prophet."

"Are you sure that's wise? Wouldn't it be best to wait until Mr. Weasley returns to tell him?"

She shook her head decisively. "No, I want this dealt with. If I wait, he'll fuss that I didn't tell him immediately."

"Very well then. I'll come by tomorrow morning with the Order, if that's convenient. Once it's signed, I'll file it. It shouldn't take more than a week to get it approved. Then I'll deliver a copy to Mr. Weasley."

"A week? I don't think I can wait that long!"

He sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, Maxwell. You're always such a help."

Now the solicitor set down his teacup and rose. "I must go. But I'll see you tomorrow."

She nodded, and a house-elf appeared to show him out.

Rather than going back to his office immediately, he Apparated to Diagon Alley and sat in the Leaky Cauldron for a while nursing a drink. "Maxwell, my boy," he said to himself, "you know what's going to happen. The only question is what's the best thing to do." He was joined shortly by another wizard, this one much older, with bone-white hair.

"Max."

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Ryan." In truth, any meeting with the patriarch of the Ryan clan was fraught with peril.

"Spare the small-talk. Maureen's unhappy. I've had another owl from her. I want to know what you plan to do about it."

"I know she's unhappy with Mr. Weasley. He's embarrassing her. It's very common when one of the newly rich marries into an established family. But he doesn't seem to want to even try to learn new ways." Max shuddered. "He talks with his mouth full, for instance. And he doesn't see anything wrong with encouraging the children to play with the house-elves."

"I'm aware of this. What else do you know?"

"He's neglecting her rather shamefully. I know the Quidditch season is in full swing right now, but a lot of the other players still find ways to come home. All these functions that she'd like to attend, but she can't because she has no escort." He paused delicately. "She's lonely."

"And you'd love to comfort her, no doubt, all the while getting your hands on Weasley's money."

"Me? I'm her solicitor. It wouldn't be proper."

Ryan laughed coarsely. "Since when has proper ever worried you? You know what the Ministry would do to you if they found out you'd rigged a marriage contract? For that matter, forget the Ministry – the Parkinsons and the Malfoys would not be amused at all." The old wizard leaned forward. "I'm not having my granddaughter unhappy, Max. So here's what's going to happen. First, you're going to find some way to dissolve the marriage that puts all the blame on Weasley. You did that once before, to that Muggle girl. Then you're going to marry Maureen, and make her happy. And Max, rest assured that you won't be the one writing the marriage contract." His drink finished, he rose and strode off toward Diagon Alley.

Damn him, Max thought furiously, though he kept his feelings off his face. How did he find out about the Malfoys and Parkinsons? He can't be guessing – there's no way he could pull those two names out randomly. What else does he know? Who else is working for him?

He Apparated back to his office. "No matter what, I've got to get Mrs. Weasley's ORR written. The last thing I need is to have more hands stirring this pot." He took out parchment and quill, but laid them down on the desk as he considered the ultimatum Pat had given him. "If I can find a compelling reason for her to file for divorce, then she will be entitled to half of everything they have, and an additional fourth if she retains sole custody of the children." His lips curled in something that looked like a smile but wasn't.

Max wrote out the ORR and a quick draft for its filing fee while he considered the Weasley Problem. Could he paint Mr. Weasley as abusive? That would be hard to prove without involving Maureen. And any barrister worth the title would insist on using Veritaserum to substantiate such a claim. Grumbling to himself, he picked up the ORR and draft, and Apparated to the Ministry to file it. He'd think of something.

The Department of Records was one of the few that operated around the clock. Max opened the door and looked around hoping that she was working tonight – yes, there she was. He planted a smile on his face and strolled over to her desk. "Mrs. Leech. A pleasure to see you again." He handed her the parchments.

The sharp-eyed old witch looked up at him for a moment and then turned her attention to the papers. "Max, this draft is wrong. The fee for an ORR is fifty galleons, but the draft says a hundred."

"Really? I'm terribly sorry. I could've sworn I read that Records fees had been raised."

"That's on the agenda for next year," Mrs. Leech informed him. "And you know that as well as I do." She tapped the draft with her wand and it vanished into one of the several slots in the wall behind her. A few moments later, a Records Owl fluttered over and dropped a pouch on her desk. This she handed to Max. "Here's your change. I'll get your ORR stamped and sealed sometime this week."

"My client would be appreciative if this could be expedited." Max murmured quietly as he opened the bag of galleons and stacked ten on the desk. "Most appreciative." Another ten galleons.

The witch swept the galleons off her desk into one of her capacious pockets. "All right then." She stamped the ORR parchment and dripped purple sealing wax onto the bottom. A tap from her wand transformed the blob into the Ministry Seal. Another tap, and the ORR flew off her desk into another slot in the wall. "That's done. Copies will be delivered with the morning post. What else?"

"That's all for this evening, Mrs. Leech. A pleasure, as always." He bowed and left the office. As he made his way back to the Apparition point, he stuffed the pouch carelessly into one of his pockets.

~*~

Hermione reluctantly decided to wait until morning to pursue her thoughts. "It's late, and neither Snape nor Poppy will be happy if I come barging in on them at this hour. It'll keep." She made several more notations on her Things To Do list, stopping only when every sentence was being punctuated by yawns.

She woke up the next morning to find Skelly frantically wringing his hands. "Miss is awake. Good. Miss can help Skelly."

"You need my help? What's wrong?"

"Skelly is asked Misters Tom and Art what they would like for breakfast. But Skelly has never heard of it."

Hermione rubbed her eyes for a moment, trying to convince her brain to wake up all the way. "What was it they asked for?"

The elf took a deep breath and enunciated carefully, "Scrambled Eggs Super Dee Dooper Dee Booper. We is knowing what scrambled eggs are, but we is not hearing of this variety of scrambled eggs before."

Hermione bit her tongue trying not to laugh at him. "It's from a story, Skelly. It's just a fancy name for scrambled eggs on toast, with ketchup."

"Mister Tom is saying it takes special eggs."

"That's true in the story. But I always used regular eggs when I made it." At the elf's look of relief, she grinned. "It'll be all right. Really."

Her amusement lasted until she entered the Great Hall with Tom and Art and caught sight of Minerva's drawn face. The Headmistress looked like she hadn't slept at all, but she still summoned up a smile.

"Hello, boys." The old witch studied them for a moment and then pointed at each in turn. "You're Art, and you're Tom, right?"

"Yes ma'am!" Tom answered, "And you're Perfessor Manogal? Mum told us."

"Makgonal," Art corrected.

"McGonagall," Hermione stage-whispered. "Come on, boys. Let's sit down and get some breakfast." As none of the other staff had arrived yet, she claimed three chairs a few seats down, feeling that Minerva would not want to be distracted with childish babbling. Her sons, alas, had other ideas.

"Can you do magic, Perfessor?" Art asked the Headmistress. "Mizz Liana can. And so can Mum. Skelly says he can do magic too, but he wouldn't show us any."

"Almost everyone here can do magic, Art." In the blink of an eye, she assumed her feline form. The twins' mouths fell open. A moment later she was human again, smiling at them.

"Wow."

"Can we do that? Mum?"

"That's a very advanced magic," Hermione replied, "but you may be able to learn how to do it some day." And then as plates started appearing on the table, "Here's breakfast. Let's see you do some magic by making it disappear gracefully." She picked up her fork and began on her scrambled eggs, relishing the change from the oatmeal that had been their staple for so long. Her sons followed her example.

"Good morning, Hermione, Art, Tom." The Athelstans sat down next to them, and Liana continued, "We're planning to take Bran and Rhea for an outing today after breakfast. I was wondering if Tom and Art wanted to come along. We'll be walking around the lake, and we'd be back for lunch."

"Mum, can we?"

That would be convenient, Hermione acknowledged to herself. I need to talk with Snape and Poppy. "Certainly. And thank you, Liana."

The other witch nodded. "I thought you might need to take care of things without distractions." She raised a gentle eyebrow at the twins.

"Yes, that's true." She nudged Tom. "Mouth closed while eating. Gracefully, remember?" And then to Art. "Small bites. Your breakfast isn't going to run away before you finish it." Her voice was low enough that no one else could hear it; she didn't want the boys to feel embarrassed in front of their friends.

The lesson on manners was interrupted by the arrival of the mail. Both boys gaped, their breakfasts forgotten, as a stream of owls flew into the room and began distributing letters and packages. Hermione's quick grab saved a letter from dropping into her half-eaten eggs. She had just enough time to see that it was from the Ministry, when an ancient horned owl dropped two parcels in front of the twins.

"Mum?" Tom put down his fork and reached for the nearest one. "This one has my name on it."

"And this one has mine. See?"

It was Hermione's turn to gape. Six months ago, the boys had started insisting that they could read bed-time stories to her. She'd assumed that they'd memorized the simple children's books; she knew they had good memories. Now, she realized, they could actually read – at least well enough to recognize their own names.

"Who are they from? Let me see." They surrendered the packages reluctantly. The boxes were about eight inches long, and about an inch in each of the other dimensions. Hermione picked one up, slightly displeased to see that it bore no sender's name. Except for the twins' names written in blocky lopsided letters, they were identical.

The action caught the attention of Lavender Brown who'd taken one of the seats between Minerva and the boys. "Oh, how wonderful, Hermione!"

Still holding the little parcel, Hermione turned to look at her former House-mate. "What is it?"

"That's Mr. Ollivander's writing. I'd wager fifty galleons that he's sent Child Wands to the boys."

The brief chat with the wand-maker flashed back into her mind, and she handed the packages back to her sons. "Go ahead and open them."

Art was marginally faster than Tom, and quickly displayed a short and stubby wand of some dark wood. "Now I'm a wizard!"

Tom's wand was of lighter wood, but the same size. "Can we do magic with these?" he asked.

"There should be a note with them," Lavender said, rustling through the discarded wrappings. "Yes, here." She handed the parchment to Hermione.

"I believe so," Hermione answered. "Now finish your breakfasts."

"Child Wands already?" Liana smiled at the twins, having followed the exchange. "That's excellent news."

"How are they used?" Hermione asked. "I never had one."

"There's no swish and flick with them – just point, concentrate, and say what you want to do. Like 'door, open' or 'book, come here'. They're limited, of course; they won't respond to angry thoughts or words and they'll only work on things within a foot or so."

"That's good to know. I was envisioning the boys wreaking havoc all over the school purely by accident."

"They can practice using them on our walk," Liana offered. "I have four younger siblings, so I've had some experience getting youngsters used to wands."

"I say, Hermione, would you mind if we had lunch in Hogsmeade and came back to Hogwarts after that?" Morgan asked, setting down the parchment he'd been reading. "My cousin and his family will be there today. His kids would love to have some new playmates."

"I don't see a problem with that. Just let me know if you're going to be any later."

"Surely!"

That settled, Hermione turned her attention to the letter from the Ministry. Her stomach did a flip-flop when she noticed that it was from the Department of Records. She bit her lip and withdrew the single sheet of parchment with its gaudy stamp and seal. This was not likely to be good news. She scanned it once, and then read it again more carefully. Then she returned it to the envelope and carefully put it away in a pocket. This was like a gift from the gods.

Breakfast over, Hermione turned her sons over to the Athelstans and went off in search of Snape. To the best of her memory, he wasn't a social man, so it didn't surprise her that he hadn't made an appearance in the Great Hall that morning. She found him warding the Potions classroom.

"Until the Aurors arrive," he said in answer to her unasked question. "They may want to see what we've done, and it wouldn't do to have anyone wandering in there. Did Minerva say anything this morning?"

"No, but I had the boys with me." She bit her lip. "That's going to cause problems, isn't it? Minerva usually makes announcements over meals, and she'll feel constrained if there are children present."

"Minerva mentioned it to me last night," Snape admitted. "I believe she's planning to call a staff meeting this evening after dinner to discuss it. Remember, you're not the only one with children here."

"True." Suddenly she needed to show someone else what the Ministry had sent her. "I got an owl from the Department of Records this morning. I'd like to know what you think of it." She took out the envelope and handed it to him.

He read it quickly. "An Order of Renunciation and Repudiation, from Mr. Weasley, for your sons. I take it this is not a problem?"

"Not at all. It's irrevocable unless all concerned parties agree – paragraph three. So now, when Ron finds out that Art and Tom are wizards, he won't have any claim on them."

"They will have no claim on him either, you realize."

She snorted. "I'm not worried about that. I was worried about Ron trying to take them away from me. Now he can't do that."

The conversation was interrupted by the appearance of a house-elf. "Headmistress asks that you both come to her office."

"The Aurors must have arrived," Snape grumbled. "We'll be there directly." He took off at a pace that Hermione could keep up with comfortably.

"I thought of something last night," she said as they made their way down the corridor. "We've been assuming that the murderer was a he. Why couldn't it have been a she?"