The Seance

11. The Séance

She stepped from there into the bubbly presence of Deanna Maturano. This youngest sister was very busy with her twins, changing their nappies right there in the den while they chatted. Sirius/Piddles curled up politely in front of them and pretended to go to sleep. Deanna explained that her husband was away for a week, and as she prattled on, Hermione realized the young mother was desperate for some adult company. But Deanna was not much interested in the finer points of the National Educational Syllabus and kept getting off the subject.

"Do they teach Creationism? I've never been a very spiritual person myself, but I would like the boys to get the whole picture, if you know what I mean. A person should be spiritual, don't you think? My husband's half Jewish. His family's from Spain...what do you call 'em?"

"Sephardic Jews, I think," opined Hermione.

"They have some interesting ideas. I read this book about the Moors and cabals and such. Talk about bizarre." A noise from the kitchen interrupted her. She left the babies sitting up with Hermione, who played with them a bit, letting them try to grab her fingers. They really were darling--fuzzy little bald people with big brown eyes. And they did seem to look at each other with a knowing glint in their eyes, like Polly said. It reminded her of another pair of twins she knew...

Deanna returned, still talking. "You know, I really think this house is haunted," she breathed. "I mean things keep moving around. I'm sure I didn't take any baby bottles out of the fridge, but there they were on the kitchen table again."

"Does it happen much?"

"At least once a day. Steve says I need to get out more, but honestly! No, there's something weird going on. Maybe I should ask Gaga about it. She'd know what to do."

"That would be your great aunt, wouldn't it? Polly mentioned her."

"Yes, she was such fun when we were kids. She'd visit all the time. Her stories were the greatest ever."

"Mmm... sounds interesting."

"Oh, yes. She has such an imagination. She told us about witch burnings, where one old lady escaped by freezing the flames of her own pyre, and this great evil wizard who hates non-magical folk and goes around trying to off them. But my favorite is the one about this whole other world of magical creatures living right alongside us, only we can't see them because they disguise themselves with spells and such. Isn't that a riot?" She tittered. "But I really do think we have a poltergeist or something in here."

Poltergeist. And a haunted house. Hermione began to see possibilities in these loaded words. The outline of a plan began to form in her mind. Could it work? It was the only decent idea that had presented itself all afternoon. I'll go with it, she thought. I only hope Sirius will agree with me.

Her father once told her, when she was going on about Hagrid's boring Flobberworm lessons, that every experience, every bit of knowledge, every mistake even, had its value; a person just had to tuck it away until it would be needed. She tried to think how to introduce the idea of a séance into her conversation with Deanna. Her only experience with the Beyond consisted in a nodding acquaintance with the castle ghosts and...oh yes--her days in Divination with the odious Sibyll Trelawney. Perhaps Dad is right. Perhaps, Sir Nick's Death-Day party and Peeves' torments and Trelawney's tea-leaves can be of some earthly use to me now. She concentrated on memories of Sibyll, her innumerable scarves and beads flapping about, her twitchy, flitty hands, her myopic squint behind huge convex spectacles. Yes, yes, that'll work. She took a deep breath and let fly.

"Oh, you know, my dear," she twittered in what she hoped was an appropriately distracted voice, "I did detect some rather disturbing vibrations as I entered. And I see now the aura of your kitchen is quite dark, and this room positively shivers with destructive emotion."

"Ooh, are you a Sensitive? "gushed Deanna. "I've read about those too."

Time to put on the hauteur of the unfairly trivialized. "Well, I like to think I have some small talent in making contact with the astral plane." Now a touch of humility. "But I am merely an amateur...though gifted in a small way--as my friends in the Theosophical Society are always telling me. I do Read a bit, you know...palms, tea-leaves and the like..."

"Do you ever do séances?" Deanna coaxed her into admitting that, yes, she was a medium and yes, she had done some rather good work, if she did say so herself, helping a friend who had been violently murdered to Pass Over and rousting out an overexuberant spirit or two for grateful relatives. Then she pouted that Deanna was her last interview of the day, and she would have to wait two hours in the hot sun for her ride. Deanna took the bait--why not beguile the time with an impromptu séance and see if they could communicate with whatever ethereal essence was plaguing her house? Hermione acquiesced graciously. Excitedly Deanna rang up her sisters to invite them to join in the adventure. Then she put the twins down for their nap.

While Deanna prepared tea, Hermione used the toilet. Sirius followed her in and said he had a pretty good idea where she was headed.

"I can do a couple of wandless spells," he said, "but only the most basic...Leviosas and such."

"That's fine," she said. "The Ministry must know about these children, so hopefully they won't be suspicious if they detect some minor magic in the area."

Hermione sent him to entertain Deanna in the kitchen while she searched for information on possible 'spiritual contacts.'

She eased herself into a small office next to the bathroom. Quickly she found what she was looking for in a file drawer: the deed to the house and grounds and the names of the sisters' deceased parents.

The guests arrived shortly. Polly, who was carrying a pink-cheeked Susanna, seemed mildly interested. Susanna was at first bewildered by the whole affair, having just woken from her nap, until she saw 'Piddie' cavorting about, and she leaped on him. He squirmed in her arms and licked her face. Hermione couldn't tell if he was enjoying it or not, but she hoped Susanna wouldn't try to take him off to another room to have him all to herself.

Mary looked put-upon. She had obviously been pestered into coming by Naomi, who confided to Aunt Deanna that she'd listened in on the conversation on the upstairs phone. The ten-year-old had also insisted on bringing her leftover birthday cake to share.

Tea promised to be an elegant affair; Deanna, for all her fluffiness, had a real talent for decorating. The dining room, she explained, was meant to evoke a sense of grandeur in the style of Le Roi Soleil. She had managed that with polished imitation-period furniture, satin wallpaper, and matching giltwood mirrors at each end of the room. She led Hermione with a kind of reverence to the head of the table. Hermione caught her breath, gazing into the rectangular looking glass behind it. It was most unusual, a definite period-piece with a second rounded triangle of glass above it in an ornate, curlicued frame like an arch over a door.

And the mirror did for a moment seem like a doorway to Hermione. As a child, she had been enthralled by the effect of two mirrors placed directly opposite each other, with their endless, concentric reflections, receding back, back, back to a tiny point. In each of Deanna's handsome glasses, the gold-painted, rococo frames, thus multiplied, resembled the support beams of some fantastic tunnel, like an entrance to Ali Baba's cave of riches or the Elysian Fields. And Hermione's reflection made a sentinel at each rib like a guide to the Afterlife, beckoning others to join her for a heady adventure into that endless cavern. She wondered briefly if Sirius' spirit encountered such enticing pathways in his journeys to and from Death's abode.

Naomi broke the spell as she charged in, her mother barely hanging onto her shoulder. The child yelped with glee and made a dash for the seat next to Hermione, but Mary grabbed her hand and led her to the opposite end of the table, as far as possible from this probable charlatan. Hermione took her own seat with some misgivings. Would Mary behave herself? She thought she would, if only for the sake of the children.

Polly and Susanna sat together on her left with Piddles at their feet, and Deanna served them all from the spot closest to the kitchen door, befitting her role as hostess-cum-servant. Susanna made sure her doggie friend was not left out, 'accidentally' dropping bits of bread and biscuit into her lap and periodically brushing them off in what she imagined was a ladylike way. Piddles did his duty and kept the carpet about her feet immaculate with delicate pawings and lickings.

Conversation rolled easily among topics as diverse as the price of wheat (the sisters still farmed the bit of property around their great aunt's house), the most popular tourist destinations this year, and Susanna's loss of her first tooth, which she proudly displayed in a bit of cotton wool. Hermione learned little of possible importance, except that Mary thoroughly disapproved of Aunt Gaga and never invited her to the house, as Polly and Deanna did.

Finally they got down to business. Deanna cleared away the pastry dishes and refreshed their tea. Hermione explained to the little girls that they could join in the fun of calling up some 'ghosties,' but that they'd have to be very quiet about it so as to not frighten them away. This made Naomi giggle, and she worked off some energy gliding about, peeking around corners and into the drawers of the buffet, whispering "Ghostie, ghostie...come here, ghostie." Susanna only nodded gravely while surreptitiously dropping yet another biscuit onto the carpet for her faithful doggie companion to scarf up.

Hermione had decided to try to 'channel' Nearly Headless Nick, whose doleful voice and manner she was sure she could imitate--although nothing like so well as Ron could. She was just warming to her task, essaying a trance-like state, when Mary made a skeptical remark. Sirius sat up, perked his ears, and her teacup floated right out of its saucer and up to eye-level. Bewildered, Mary grabbed it out of the air, and that effectively silenced her for the time being. Deanna and Polly were astonished, but the two little girls just smiled as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Hermione started again, relaxing and closing her eyes. "I call upon Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington," she cooed. "Do you have you any messages for us from beyond the Pale?"

Then she rolled her eyes up and let her head fall back, as if the spirit were taking over her body. She'd seen bits and pieces of a horror movie once...a supernatural thriller--and hoped her effort was convincing her audience. She changed her voice to Sir Nick's stuffy Queen's English. "Only one message, madam. And it is directed to the sisters here present--from the two people who love them best."

"Dad?" said Polly.

"Mum!" shouted Deanna.

"Yes, your dear parents, Roddy and Joanna. They wish to warn you of grave danger."

"What?!" All three sisters reacted as one.

"Tomorrow night your homes will be invaded by evil men who seek your money--and your lives."

"What? How can you possibly know that?" This from Mary.

"In the Afterlife all time is One."

At this, Mary gave a bark of laughter, which seemed to break the spell. "This is ridiculous," she said, rising. "How dare you come in here and worry my sisters with this--this claptrap? Pretending to have a message from our father...and Mum."

"Mary!" gasped Deanna.

Hermione's head jerked forward abruptly. She'd never expected this. But she should have, of course. She sought to buy time with words. "I assure you, my dear..."

"Please, Mary, don't get yourself upset..." started Polly.

But her sister paid no attention. Her eyes were boring into Hermione's. "What were you going to do? Promise to rescue us all from the terrible danger if we only give you a couple thousand euros apiece? Well, I'm sorry to spoil your little scheme--"

"It's no scheme. It's true."

"You'd better get out of here right now before I call the police..." Mary picked up her bag and rummaged around in it until she found her cell phone.

All this time, Hermione had been keeping eye contact, but feeling through the bag in her lap too...for her wand--thinking: Now I've done it. I'll have to do a Stun on her I guess, so she can't complete the call, then an Obliviate on the whole family. Oh, Merlin, there's no way I'll be able to explain this to the Ministry...

But now Mary's gaze shifted and focused on a point behind Hermione's head. A look of horror came over her face.

Arrogant meddler! How dare you? an unearthly voice thundered. Hermione didn't dare turn around. She feared that she must have accidentally Summoned a real spirit to their tea party, and an angry one at that. Or had Rufus Scrimgeour somehow read her mind and Apparated an Auror in to arrest her? She froze, staring rigidly ahead of her, and realized that something was moving in the mirror behind Mary's head. It must be a reflection of whoever it was behind her chair--a white face, almost translucent, haggard, but stern, with tousled black hair, and...Sirius! He must have abandoned Piddles and appeared in the mirror behind her.

Listen, he intoned, all of you. I speak with the wisdom of the ages. You are in the gravest danger. You must leave your homes...tonight!...and stay away for at least...two...Hermione caught his eye and shook her head quickly...no...three days. He glared at them and gave a deep groan for good measure, then receded in the mirror, passing all those reflected arches. Hermione stifled the urge to stand and applaud his performance.

Naomi and Deanna just sat there, their mouths gaping, silenced for once. Mary was dead white and sagged back into her chair, looking as if she would shortly faint dead away. Susanna leaped off her chair and grabbed her adopted pet, who seemed to be sleeping, unaffected by the hubbub. "I take care of you, Piddie," she cried, cradling him in her arms. "No bad ghosties can hurt you."

Naomi ran over to her mother, who was now weeping, climbed into her lap, and gave her a fierce hug.

Deanna's loquacity reasserted itself in a spate of questions. What to do? Call the police? Their husbands? They'd hardly be believed. Hermione reverted to type and tried to calm her down with some logical observations, but that only served to put a blank look of sensory overload into the young mother's eyes. Then she gave a little yelp and ran upstairs to check on the twins.

Surprisingly, it was Mary who suggested a perfect solution. She recovered quickly from the shock with the help of her daughter's caresses and a generous tot of whisky from a decanter Polly brought from the buffet. She opined that she didn't really believe all this nonsense, but if her sisters were really adamant about it, she could arrange for them to have a nice couple of days at a hotel in town. There was a relatively cheap family matinee of The Lion King musical, and nowadays all the museums had activities for kids, even six-months-olds. Even if Polly's husband couldn't get off work, they could still meet him afterward for dinner at The Rain Forest--a restaurant geared to children. Listening to her, Hermione had the feeling that Mary might actually have been dreaming of sharing an outing like this with her sisters, but bitterness had kept it locked away inside her. Making their plans, now laughing and joking, it seemed as if the sisters had forgotten the imminent danger.

Susanna interrupted them with a wail. "Mummmmmmy...it's Piddie...he won't wake up!"

Hermione took the small ball of fluff gently from her convulsively clutching hands.

"What's wrong?" the little girl sobbed. "He sick?" She was in her mother's arms now, alternately craning to see her beloved poodle and burying her face in Polly's neck.

"Yes, honey, he's sick" Hermione said as she placed the deflated body of Popsie aka Piddles aka Piddie in the satchel. Thinking fast, she turned her remarks to Polly. "It's all right--really. He has a condition, something like epilepsy. It comes on him suddenly, usually during periods of high excitement. He'll sleep it off in his...er...carrying case and be good as new tomorrow."

~*~

The dog and his girl watched from the construction midden as the families drove off for their London holiday. "Yip-yip! Well done," barked Sirius, having managed to worm his way back inside his disguise. "I think you've saved some grrrr-relationships as well as lives."

"Yes," said Hermione. She was standing in the shade of the claw-and-scoop, feeling more herself now that the Aging Potion was wearing off, but she couldn't wait until she could get home and change into tank top and shorts and relax. Poor Sirius, he'll never be able to relax and be himself truly until he crosses over and joins with his friends. She stifled this unhappy thought with one of pride and satisfaction. "Those little girls will be a big help to their mothers some day. But what will happen to these nice houses? Will the Death Eaters destroy them when they find their plans frustrated?"

"Rowrrr...well...actually, I thought we might send an anonymous owl to the Ministry to warn them what's afoot."

"How perfect. But wherever will I get an owl?"

"Arf! Arf! There's a corrrrrpse of a Grrrrrrrreat bark--barrrrrrred up in that tree over there--rrrrrrr. Quite grrrrr-gamy, but it should last a shorrrrrrrt flight."

"So why didn't we do this in the first place...just warn the Ministry, I mean?"

"Brrrk--because I only just thought of it. But we still can't be sure they'll believe an arrrrrr-onymous tip, so it's just as rrrrell the families arrrrrrf out of here. But you can be surrrrre that whoof--whateverrrrrrrowf they do...put a whuff...whuff--watch on the houses or come in afterrrrrr the DEs' attack, they'll keep an eye on these three families frrower--frrrrrrrom nowrrrrr on. Yip-yip-yowrrr-whuf. Owooooooo."

It was clear the Veterinariserum was wearing off too. But before Hermione could get the vial out of the satchel, there was a popping sound behind them, and she saw three men closing in on her in black robes. Death Eaters...so soon? Oh no...

Sirius launched himself at one wizard's leg, but was Stunned quickly, and the three brandished wands at her.

"Miss Granger...you're to come with us...immediately."

Hermione was almost paralyzed with fear, but she managed to blurt, "To...to...Voldemort?"

"No, Miss. We're Aurors, and the Minister himself wants a word with you."