Chapter 6: Nightmare of the Present

Author's Note: Story depicted may be unpalatable to sensitive readers for its portrayal of Hermione and Ron's relationship. Hermione may also not be likeable to readers. Some readers might consider the characters a little OOC. Some organisations and Ministry of Magic departments are made-up.

It would help readers following the story to view it as a 'cinematic' experience whereby there are shifts in perspectives, as well as shifts between flashbacks, the past, the present, dreams and reality within the space of one chapter.

Footnotes, translations &ca follow chapter.

Emphasises are italicised and book titles are underlined.

From the Blood of the Gorgon

Chapter 6 – Nightmare of the Present

Hermione loved working at night in her office. The quiet of the night was conducive to in-depth thinking, and the darkness which night afforded comforted her. It allowed her to be anonymous, just a single speck working through things overlooked by those who kept to regular schedules. She could come and go as she pleased via the back passage of the building and basically blend into the shadows. She often told her children that it was her way of disappearing like a phantom into the darkness. Little did they know their mother had spoken the truth. She did want to disappear into the darkness, away from Ron who only saw in black and white instead of shades of grey. To him, the survivors who had vanquished Voldemort and his coterie were part of the light and ought to remain there. She however believed that remaining in the light brought undue attention and encouraged much pretence. How many times had she stood with him at Ministry of Magic functions pretending to smile and portray the happy couple for the press and the Ministry bulletins? How many times had she done so when all she wanted to do was chat with the other dignitaries instead of staying by her husband's side? When she told him she did not like being his watchdog, he lectured her on the subject of husband and wife being one entity; and that as one entity, it was her duty to keep to his side and prevent him from doing or saying anything that would besmirch his good name as a war hero. Bah Humbug!

She protested in the time honoured manner of oppressed minorities in third world countries – by foot dragging; that is, she remained in the shadows, became a self-imposed wallflower at Ministry functions and refused to circulate. Ron, of course, did not notice that his wife was not performing her wifely duties at these functions, and soon Hermione decided she could take it no more and left the Ministry to set up her own Chambers. While having her own Chambers did allow her to have some degree of her own individual life, she found her husband was still adamant about dragging her back into the limelight. Initially, she had humoured his wishes that she grace his arm with her presence at many social occasions and functions where, as Harry Potter's closest friends and saviours of Wizarding Britain, they were sure to be photographed by the press. Ron relished being at the centre of attention. He had once told his wife that it was now his time to shine after being overshadowed by his family and his friends. Hermione had wanted to tell him off for being insecure, but held her tongue when she realised Ron would most likely see it as another effort to prove that she was better than he. As could be expected, our heroine eventually grew tired of these masquerades and refused to attend any public function with her husband. The press, it would seem, had already sensationalised the story, as she discovered on picking up the Daily Prophet in her office not long after her arrival at nine o'clock in the evening:

It has come to attention of the editor that a matrimonial fracas has broken out in the home of WR and GH. The marriage of two heroes of the last great wizarding war to tear apart our country was the talk on every pair of lips, the bride's strange love for unusual causes beneath the notice of ordinary wizards notwithstanding. But it is clear to this editor that WR had thrown himself away on GH, a witch of uncertain temperament, who has neglected her wifely duties at every opportunity. GH, though a highflier in the legal world has much to learn about being a wizard's wife. She would do well to take a leaf out of the book of the virtuous and beautiful BL who, if this editor's contacts are to be believed, enjoys the almost constant companionship of WR, unbeknownst to his wife. The Daily Prophet can only speculate whether WR will divorce his unusual wife for the more usual BL...

Unable to read anymore, she muttered a spell with her eyes glittering dangerously in fury as she violently incinerated the newspaper. How dare they! How dare the press intrude her private life and publish the disintegration of her marriage with thinly disguised acronyms! How dare they assume she did not know of her husband's infidelity! Rita Skeeter had not written it – it was not in her style, so it must be some other person. Who could have written such a scurrilous piece? Her foolish, pigeon-livered, weak-spined husband would not have dared advertise such a fact to anyone. He had a very old-fashioned notion of the value of his 'masculine pride' and would do almost anything to preserve the image the world had of him as a loyal friend of Harry Potter and a devoted husband to Hermione Granger. Furthermore, Ron himself had an altercation with Hermione over the issue of his affair where he had accused her, unjustly, of having her own illicit liaison. The only logical conclusion Hermione could draw was that the 'virtuous and beautiful' Miss Brown had somehow leaked the matter to the Daily Prophet. That would have been perfectly in keeping with the Lavender Brown she remembered who was always eager to point shame at her and whisper behind her back whenever she could. Well, this time, Hermione had noticed Miss Brown's efforts, and she was not pleased. She wondered whether Ron knew of it.

"Well," she said with a careless shrug. That would be something she would have to confront him with when she finally got home. As with most women of considerable spirit when they were displeased, Hermione Granger resolved upon having a strong word (or two, or three) with the object instrumental in causing her irritation as well as her husband. However, before she could do so, she would need irrefutable proof that the 'virtuous and beautiful' Miss Brown had indeed penned that offensive editorial. She scribbled a note to her senior clerk, who was a very discreet and loyal wizard, to give her a list of all the writers and editors for the Daily Prophet while looking into the matter. As the magical office post-it note floated out of her doors and appended itself to Summerby's desk, Hermione turned her attention to the new brief that had evidently been placed on her desk some time during the day while she was at the British Library.

Shaking her head as she undid the string to the folder, she wondered what could have possessed one of the junior clerks to assign a new case to her when she was due in court the two days hence for Malfoy and Goyle versus the Crown and Ministry of Magic. Undoing the string, she realised it was her solicitor who was to blame. Warrington had specifically asked for her to be on this. "Interesting, for the IWCJ," she mused, taping a finger absently on her cheek. "When does it go to trial? Two months. I have time."

Then to intents and purposes, Hermione lost herself in mastering her brief and making sense of it all. When she had finally made all the preliminary notes to her satisfaction, she came to the conclusion that she would have to consult some books on common law, speak to her solicitor, and consume a large fortifying cup of tea, she realised (quite belatedly) that it was already half-past eleven at night. Seeing no point in not having a cup of tea before proceeding to floo her solicitor, she made her way to the pantry where she discovered she was not the only person burning the midnight oil.

"And here I thought, I was all alone," she said, leaning by the doorway, watching a tall youth with dark-hair stir his cup of coffee with one hand, and opening a tin of biscuits with a spell from his wand.

He looked up at her without giving any indication that he had been startled or caught off-guard. "You are never alone, not here at any rate." Taking up a cup from the Formica cabinet tops, he handed it to her. "Tea, black, one sugar."

"How did you know, Herr von Bastiae?" she asked, taking the cup, and as she did so, her fingers lightly grazed his.

Instantly, his eyes flickered up and met hers unflinchingly. "I make it a point to know who's a big player in Chambers, and show suitable deference to them. That's how I survived. It is how I live."

"Very clever," Hermione acknowledged with a laugh that did not reach her eyes. "But I am not one of those who are susceptible to blandishments."

"I know. That is why you have my respect." Perseuss raised his coffee mug at her.

"I meant to ask..."

"How did I know you were in?" He ventured, completing the thought she was just about to give voice to. "I saw your light, and I heard you come up from the back door. I was about to bring your tea to you with a few chocolate biscuits to better 'suck up' to you, but you seem to have uncovered my plot."

"Very observant," she complimented. "Another survival trait?"

"You might call it that." He bowed and curled his lips into a smirk. Leaning on the cabinet without breaking eye contact with her, he continued, "May I ask what brought you back to Chambers at this hour? What could a successful silk-to-be be doing back at the office at a time like this?"

Hermione shuddered on hearing those words. She did not know whether it was he said it or whether it was because there was something very familiar in his style of speech. Whatever it was, it had struck something her mind, and brought the sense of déjà vu she had felt on her first meeting with Perseuss von Bastiae back to the fore. The same uncomfortable sensation that had washed over while they were at the Malaysian restaurant came over her again. However, she schooled her features into a mien of casual indifference and replied readily, "I might ask you the same."

"Exchange is no robbery," he offered. "I will tell you, if you will tell me."

She nodded her assent. "New work. Beastly case for the IWCJ. You?"

"Research for Mr Goldstein, he requested my assistance after misplacing some papers on his current brief following a... 'con' with Miss Greengrass."

"Neither one of them is leading the other in any.... Ah!" Hermione then hit upon it and raised a brow, nodding knowledgeably. "The papers normally slide behind the desk because of all the movement."

"Danke," replied the pupil with something akin to practiced nonchalance. "I checked there sometime ago." He paused, much to Hermione's amusement and stared at her in slight confusion. "You mean, you know of Mr Goldstein and Miss...."

She nodded, a thinly smile playing on her lips. "Oh yes, their 'con' is often of the stress-relieving variety."

"I know that it is said you are a catholic employer, but I did not know..."

"Oh, 'gameboys', dart-throwing, chocolate biscuits, and shagging on desks – I run a very progressive set of Chambers." She said with the utmost gravity and a certain Dumbledorean twinkle in her eye.

"I don't mind the games," opined he, "but the other kind of...."

"Oh that!" Hermione flicked a dismissive wrist as she laughed. "I do not mind my barristers' private recreational activities so long as they lock the door, put out the 'con in progress' sign, and so long as they perform consistently well in their work – which they have."

"You are very tolerant." He bowed respectfully to her.

"Yes, I rather imagine I am." With that answer, a serious look came into her eyes once more. "If Anthony needs you on his brief, it can only mean you're done with your own load. How did your House Elves Union thing go?"

"Treated it as a trade union dispute. Straightforward across the table settlement," he answered blandly, glad to be talking shop once again. "You mentioned the IWCJ earlier. Do you need help with that?"

"If you think you can help," she generously said, leading him into her office. As she handed him the file, she added warningly, "It's not as easy as it seems. It is rarely straightforward with the IWCJ."

"As to be expected from the International Wizarding Court of Justice. Land reform?" he asked, tugging the file from her grasp when she would not relinquish it.

She shook her head. "Legitimacy for a new wizarding state within Tajikistan. Warrington dumped the Tajik wizarding leader, or should I say, would-be Tajik wizarding Prime Minister onto me."

"Warrington?"

"Our solicitor from Strauss and Leibniz," explained Hermione, kicking off her shoes and sitting in the lotus position in her chair. "The whole thing hinges on foundationalism – whether it is possible and/or desirable to ascertain some transcultural standard separate from that of the standards of another state; and whether it is possible and/or desirable to use these separate transcultural standards to decide the questions which animate political life. The Tajiks seem to regard it as necessary. Its neighbouring state of China claims that there is no need for a separate Tajik wizarding state because it denies the very possibility and desirability of foundationalism."

"The political system of Wizarding China is Fabian-Socialist whereas the Tajik leadership favours a certain liberalism," contributed a thoughtful Perseuss.

"Or as I like to call it 'post modernist bourgeois liberalism'. It sounds more accurate," Hermione stated firmly as she strode to the mantelpiece of the fireplace and opened the canister of floo powder.

"You're in danger of making a political case into a philosophical one," cautioned Perseuss as his Head of Chambers threw a handful of powder into the grate and commanded the network to connect her with Charles Warrington, Number 52 Chestnut Grove.

"Foundationalism is Platonic," stressed Hermione with a small frown, as the green flames in the fireplace continued burning without connecting her to her solicitor. "We live in a cosmos, not a chaos. There has to be some semblance of order that is intelligible. It does not have to be uniform. The Platonic Ideas are arranged in a hierarchy leading up to the good constitute a bridge between the intelligible order and the corporeal, the contingent world of our experience."

"Metaphysics from you? That is a surprise," said the pupil looking at her with interest.

"Be thankful I'm not going on and on about virtue," joked Hermione, as she turned her attention to the floo again. "Charles Warrington, Number 52 Chestnut Grove," she repeated, waiting for the connection to go through. While waiting, she turned to address Perseuss, "It would help if I knew the wizarding common law of Tajikistan. It would give me some basis on which to work."

Before he could answer, the floo network sounded a loud 'Bong' twice, and a thin voice warbled unevenly as the green flames swirled in undulating circles unable to take the image of the voice, "The floo network is currently experiencing heavy traffic. Please hold, your communication networking is important to us. We will connect you to your desired party shortly."

"At least you're not travelling by floo under these conditions," said Perseuss. "You could be Splinched or caught in the middle of nowhere."

Hermione stared at him as he uttered the last word. Why had he mentioned being caught in the middle of nowhere? Knowing that he would think she was mad if she demanded to know why he had chosen that phrase, she willed herself to think on the matter at hand. "Heavy floo traffic!" she repeated, disbelief ringing in her voice.

"I have never heard such rubbish happening before," snorted the pupil as he rolled his eyes.

"It does happen from time to time," came the apologetic voice from the floo network. "I'm Lucy, your floo operator for the night. The Ministry's floo network is overburdened tonight because the Floo Network Authority shut down the main Fireplace Connections for maintenance. As and when each Fireplace Connection is checked, cleaned and certified, they will be reset and open for use once again."

"Why are all the floo connections disconnected at the same time?" enquired Hermione with a long suffering sigh at the machinery of the Ministry of Magic.

"More importantly," demanded Perseuss, folding his arms before the image of the plump floo network operator. "Whose brilliant idea was it to shut off all floo connections in one night?"

"May I speak to Millicent Bustrode, the Floo Network Director?" Hermione ventured as politely as she could. "I have no doubt she came under pressure from one of the Ministry's committees."

"As a matter of fact, Miss Bulstrode authorised..." the operator allowed her voice to trail off meaningfully.

The rumoured top barrister of wizarding Britain slapped a hand to her forehead, unable to contain herself any longer. "Of all the bureaucratic blunders that can be made... Doesn't Miss Bulstrode realise that centralised control of the floo means centralised control of the Floo Network by the Ministry and not her? Couldn't you have dispatched notices that the Floo Network Authority would be shutting down the main Fireplace Connections for maintenance?"

"Terribly sorry, Mrs Weasley..."

Hermione cut off the operator curtly. "I did not agree to take my husband's surname, please address me as Miss Granger. This floo connection is registered to Miss Granger of Chiswell Square."

"Sorry, Miss Granger," said the operator, who was by now sounding a little peevish. "It is not Departmental policy to send out notices of when maintenance work will be done. The Department of Magical Transportation and Communication believe that giving out notice of maintenance work would allow undesirable elements to cripple the wizarding community when communication links are disabled."

"She sounds like she's reading from a brochure," pointed out Perseuss with a smirk of amusement.

Throwing up her hands in exasperation, Hermione tried offering another suggestion to the operator. "One would think the Department would at least have the sense to have conceptualised a plan whereby some floo connections are still left open to the wizarding public? Perhaps cleaning and maintenance of floo connections on a rotating basis by electoral constituency or rerouting the floo traffic?"

"You would have to take that up with our director, Miss Granger," the operator simply said.

"I'll do more than that!" Hermione muttered under her breath. "Open and consultative wizarding government, my arse!" Coughing into her hand to steady herself, she returned her attention to the floo operator, "When will this oversight be remedied? I have an urgent communiqué requiring the presence of another party."

The operator tilted her head to one-side as if listening to another person (who sounded strangely like Percy Weasley, Director of the Portkey Office) and answered, "I have received authorisation to give you priority and disconnect you from the network in sixty seconds. When that happens, your network will be checked and cleaned. We will then reset your floo settings for this connection. The whole procedure should take no more than three minutes. When we reset your floo settings, you will have to reconnect to the network with two pinches of floo powder and quote your activation code for this connection to verify access. When the activation code is verified, you will be able to use the network again."

"Right, so sit tight on your end!" said the voice of Percy Weasley before she was disconnected.

Perseuss and Hermione exchanged speaking glances of mild annoyance at the bureaucracy. They remained like that for a few seconds until the apparently younger wizard raised a question. "You were saying earlier you wanted to refer to Tajik wizarding common law. I was looking through a book of the wizarding common law of the former Soviet Socialist Republics. It's on my desk. You don't have to go the basement library for it. I'll get it for you."

"No," insisted Hermione firmly, twirling the bunch of keys on a finger. "I'll get it."

"The door's unlocked, just so that you know," replied the pupil as he continued to peruse the documents before him.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I rather walk than Accio." She smiled briefly, then waving a sign that she would be back, she left for Anthony Goldstein's office where Perseuss's desk was set up. She found the thick tome easily enough, but her attention was riveted by the scrawls he had made all over the notes of his House Elves Union case. They were all written in Latin and were complicated sentences like 'anno MCMXCVIII ad gubernacula patriae post itervallum longum accesserunt operarioruum partes duce Antonio Blair viro maxime populari', and more damningly, he had translated large chunks of his brief into Latin.

Taking up both the brief and the book, Hermione stormed back into office and confronted him. Without giving him a chance to speak, she lashed out at him, wanting her interrogation of Perseuss to be over and done with. "Quidnam tu hominis es? Nunc ludis tu quidem me! Scisne Latine? Vel litteris Latinis operam das? Quanta de spe decide," she rattled off crossly, glowering at him.

"I don't understand," Perseuss said quietly, looking askance at her.

"Quid ais? Quid audio?" cried Hermione in exasperation.

"I really do not understand what you're trying to say," asked Perseuss, examining his Head of Chambers' papers.

"Then what in the world is this?" she hissed reverting back to English and shoving him the brief where he had scrawled in Latin in the margins. "You told me you don't know any Latin. You cannot have picked up perfect Latin in less than a fortnight. You know it well enough to write statements. Why did you hide it from me?"

"I really do not know any Latin!" he retorted, looking up into her eyes.

Hermione rose with a determined glare in her eyes, spun the chair in which the young wizard sat in sharply, fencing Perseuss in his seat by griping the armrests of his swivel chair tightly. "Then how did you manage such complicated sentences? And why the year 1997? Do you expect me to believe you know nothing of that which descended on wizarding Britain in 1997?"

Perseuss shifted uncomfortably his seat, with a look of confusion and a little fear in his face. "I really do not know any Latin. I am only fluent in German and English, and I don't see the significance of 1997. It is just a year like any other. Was the United Kingdom in recession at the time?"

Frustrated by her perception of his continued equivocation, she grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and shook him as hard as she dared. "How can you expect me to believe you when you wrote all over the margins of your brief? You don't have to lie to me. Why are you still hiding it from me? How did you know I have an allergy to shellfish? No one in this Chambers knows. More importantly, how much of my life do you know?"

"I do not know how I know. I just do," he said quietly, meeting her penetrating gaze with one of his own.

She was about to further rail at him with a string of added invectives when another shock prevented her from speaking. The floo chime sounded and a ball of green flames burst forward in the fireplace and the female floo network operator who had earlier assisted her technical difficulty came into view.

"Miss Granger," greeted the operator, ignoring the fact that Hermione had her hands on Perseuss' shoulder. "Your activation code has been verified. We are now connecting you to Number 52 Chestnut Grove."

Hence, before she could even thank the woman, she found her floo connection up and running and connected to Warrington.

"You wanted something, Miss Granger?" sneered Warrington in the greenish flames as his face came into view.

Continually startled, Hermione released her grip on Perseuss' shoulders and fell back into a chair. With remarkable fortitude, she regained her equanimity and self-control. "Yes, why was I given the Tajik case?" she said on finding her voice.

"Because you're the best, and I want a silk to do it. Enhances my reputation with my clients," he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Silk? The outcome for that isn't out yet. What if Cho gets it instead?"

"Let's just say I know a winning mare when I see one!"

"You're not making any sense. You're sleeping with Cho; you're engaged to her. She should be your winning mare. If anything, Russo-Asian politics is more her thing than mine," Hermione said, rubbing her brow at the onslaught of so many revelations in one day.

"Look, I'm tired, you're tired. I'll see you tomorrow and we'll talk," Warrington declared before disconnecting from the floo.

Hermione cradled her head in her hands and closed her eyes in mental exhaustion. First, she had quite a revelation on the Dumbledore-Snape front where her nightmare was concerned, then she had the shock of hearing Charles Warrington's certainty of her getting the King's Counsel appointment, and now, she had to deal with a lying pupil. Would wonders never cease? Why was every event of the day calculated to give her a headache? Suddenly, it dawned on her. She had just spoken to Warrington by floo, which meant that her floo network had been reset. Since her floo connection had been reset, someone must have cited her password to the floo operator. She had been in Anthony Goldstein's office looking for the book Perseuss had taken, which in turn meant that someone must have given her activation code to the operator. Since only Perseuss had been in her office, he must have taken it upon himself to reset the settings.

"How do you know my activation code? It has a spell accompanying it. How did you know? I have not reset the setting in two years? How did you know?" she purred in a dangerously low voice, jabbing her finger at his chest. As she spoke, her voice became increasingly high-pitched, and she was sounding increasingly hysterical. "How did you manage to input my password? Even my husband doesn't know my password."

"Miss Granger," snapped Perseus, rising suddenly and with a deft move, taking hold of her wrist and quickly manoeuvring so that Hermione was now seated, and he was standing over her, fencing her in her chair. "Remember yourself! Remember who are! This is not fitting behaviour for the head of Chiswell Square Chambers. Just who are you to let fly at me? Do you know by being presumptuous, you are only making an arse if yourself?"

It struck Hermione that as he uttered each syllable, his black obsidian eyes were glittering, and he had bared his teeth in a display of self-loathing that she had previously seen Severus Snape only bestow upon Albus Dumbledore in the memory she had viewed in the British Library.

Without realising his every word and action were causing escalating distress in wizarding Britain's top non-Ministry affiliated barrister, he persisted in pressing his point. "I was under the impression that I was providing assistance to you, and you are only unreasonably letting fly at me! I do not know why or how I know the things I do. I just do. I do not understand it. When I see you, I know these things. I did not use Legilimency if that is what you are thinking. You are the insufferable know-it-all, Miss Granger, tell me how I know these things, and stop these blasted dreams from haunting me!" He paled as he caught the look of horror passing through Hermione's eyes. "What have I done! Es tut mir sehr leid, Fraulein Granger."

Unable to bear it any longer, he staggered backwards as if revolted with himself for laying a hand on Hermione and stormed out of her office. Stunned, Hermione could only remain in her seat. Why did Perseuss von Bastiae sound so much like Severus Snape just now? What did he mean he was haunted by dreams as well? Just who was he? Just what was he? Was he perhaps the reincarnation of Severus? How did this fit into her nightmares and all that she learnt from the Dumbledore-Snape correspondence? She was thinking too much into it. No, she had to talk to Perseuss about it first. He was an intelligent wizard; perhaps he had other ideas. Perhaps it was still not too late to run after him and offer an explanation. With that thought in mind, Hermione collected herself, ran down the stairs and out to front door of Chambers where it was raining.

"Heavens! Perseuss!" she shouted, pulling him back, making him stop in his tracks as he was about to cross the street. It was fortunate that her voice held him back, for a car had just come careering from the corner and would have otherwise knocked him down. Instinctively, he took a step back and spun around, just barely avoiding contact with the vehicle. The car belatedly honked at him before speeding off, and he found himself supported by Hermione in an embrace.

Now, it was Hermione's turn to feel awkward. However, she refused to be cowed and willed herself not to Apparate away. She and Perseuss looked meaningfully at each other before shock fell between them, causing them to mutually pull apart. She found herself unable to tell him about Severus Snape, her nightmares and the various hypotheses she had about him. Instead, she chose to break the wall of uncomfortable silence between them by stubbornly rehashing their previous conversation.

"How do you know my password? Why did you lie about knowing Latin?" she asked quietly in a strained tone.

"I did not lie. I do not know how I know those things," he asserted exhaustedly, refusing to meet her eyes. "There is no talking to you in this vein. I am getting sick of this. I am going home."

With which parting shot, he stalked off, leaving Hermione to watch his figure retreat into the darkness of the London night and ponder on the inherent convoluted nature of the whole situation between herself and the wizarding law pupil, as well as the unresolved matter of her persistent nightmares and the mystery of Severus Snape's death.

FOOTNOTES:

The Gorgon in the title refers to Nagini. I know she is not a 'real' Gorgon'. However, I believe her role in the books position her as a kind of symbolic Gorgon. There is another reason for dubbing Nagini the Gorgon, and that reason will be dependent upon the readers' perceptions.

There are double entendres in the title (of the literary kind not the sexual kind as my prelim reader thought). Make what you will of them.

All references to characters are from Rowling's Harry Potter universe unless otherwise stated. Any character you do not recognise is my own creation.

Facts about Wizarding Law and Wizarding Politics are made up.

Facts about the improvements of any Wizarding and/or Muggle object, governing body, and facility are made up.

Facts about other Harry Potter universe characters in the post-Voldemort years are also made up.

Call the Lavender Brown depicted in this story (she is never explicitly seen in this tale) one-dimensional and unrealistic if you like, but she is based on a real person, who has indeed called herself "simple, understanding, pure and virtuous" and who presumed to tell me how I should wash my clothes, clean the flat and catch a man. The character on whom Miss Brown is based who, though significantly younger than I am, has deemed me too educated for my own good, too ambitious for my own good, and much too old to catch a man without her help. Her significant other (aged 25), it should be noted, is like Ron in this story, who frequently quotes her and exhorts the females of his family (regardless of their age) to follow the example of this real-life Lavender and heed her excellent advice so that like him, the females in his family would become as "simple, pure and virtuous" as her.

Legal references are to British Law. American readers, please bear with me. My beta also made the suggestion that readers unaccustomed to the legal jargon herein pretend you are watching "Rumpole of Old Bailey" or "Sherlock Holmes".

Any reference to "pupil" in this chapter is in the legal sense, viz., a person undergoing pupillage.

Silk is British legal slang for King's/Queen's Counsel because the gown for the KC/QC is made of silk.

Chambers – for definition and explanation, c/f footnotes in Chapter 1.

Head of Chambers – for definition and explanation, c/f footnotes in Chapter 1.

'Employed' barrister – for definition and explanation, c/f footnotes in Chapter 1.

Barrister – for definition and explanation, c/f footnotes in Chapter 1.

Solicitor – for definition and explanation, c/f footnotes in Chapter 1.

'Brief' or 'Briefs' – for definition and explanation, c/f footnotes in Chapter 3.

'Con' – When Hermione and Perseuss mentions 'con', they mean consultation/conference. It does not mean to cheat in this context.

Pupil – for definition and explanation of pupil (in the legal sense of the word), look under pupillage in the footnotes of Chapter 3

'Anno MCMXCVIII ad gubernacula patriae post itervallum longum accesserunt operarioruum partes duce Antonio Blair viro maxime populari' is Latin for 'In the year 1997, after a long interval (where they were not in power), the government was taken over by the Labour Party under the leadership of Tony Blair who was very popular with the people.'

'Quidnam tu hominis es?' is Latin for 'What kind of man are you?'

'Nunc ludis tu quidem me! ' is Latin for 'Are you having a joke at my expense!'

'Scisne Latine?' is Latin for 'Do you know Latin?'

'Vel litteris Latinis operam das?' is Latin for 'How long have you been learning Latin?'

'Quanta de spe decide' is Latin for 'I am very disappointed (in you)'.

'Quid ais? Quid audio?' is Latin for 'What is that? What is that I hear you tell me?'

'Es tut mir sehr leid, Fraulein Granger' is German for 'I am very sorry, Miss Granger'.