Chapter 11

I looked at the sheets of paper scattered on the desk before me, tapping on the armrest of my miniature armchair. The dossier was composed of information that anyone could get with some snooping around, it was just the person the dossier was about that was extraordinary, lets say, magical.

I'd given Dobby clear parameters, the person he needed to find had to be no younger than me, muggleborn, isolated in their social environment while achieving good grades in school, which while not really sign of intelligence was still better than nothing and a family that wasn't too rich.

Naturally I'd been brought documents pertaining a certain Hermione Granger by the elf, documents I'd already forwarded to my family. Documents that my grandfather was acting upon this very moment, he hadn't allowed me to go with him in the first meeting, which was understandable, if not disappointing. He trusted my intellect, but I'd yet to prove that my social competence stretched out far enough to manipulate two parents into selling away their daughter, without the use of mind magic naturally. I'd been confused by that, didn't magicals usually rely on their, you know, magic. But after grandfather explained to me that something like this was best done without traces, since the ministry would surely snoop around, I graciously bowed down out to his wisdom.

So here I was, fretting my time away while my grandfather was trying to convince two muggles that he was but a concerned wizard of some renown who had grown so appalled by the lack of education young muggleborns received before being thrown head first into a different culture, that he started personally doing something against it. Namely by creating an example on how thorough immigration could be if the proper values were instilled in the person beforehand.

Normally I would try to spend my time usefully no matter the circumstances, but I was simply too excited, odd certainly, I'd done much riskier things in the past, but the possibilities that were flitting through my head... All the things I could do. I'd never had children in my past life, but if my grandfather succeeded, I would get one, certainly not in a way that most people usually got children but still. A life, mine for the shaping, through manipulations and more, brute force approaches.

Grandfather had discussed his strategy with me, how he was going into the meeting and what he was trying to achieve, so I wasn't as much nervous about the results of the meeting, but more about the entire thing in general.

I wondered how much longer this was going to take, it had already been almost two hours. As if to mock all pieces of contemporary literature the moment that thought formed in my head was not indeed the moment that grandfather walked into my room whistling a jaunty tune.

That moment instead came about half an hour later, when I was already half ready to flee from our mansion into greater Wiltshire and get to London with a bus. Well, grandfather wasn't whistling, but still. It was basically the scene I'd imagined in my head.

Only that he just stood there with a contemplative look on his face after having entered my room.

"Well, how did it go?" I asked, annoyed, at which he shook himself and adapted his face into a restrained smile.

"It went quite well, I was just, thinking about the muggles, they were dumb yes, no idea about politics and rhetoric, but the average wizarding family isn't much smarter either." Grandfather said.

That was, interesting, for all how blood supremacy was a big part of my family I'd never really considered the fact that nobody in my family had ever actually interacted at length with a muggle before. While empathy was not really something I wished to be evoked in my grandfather on the morn of such a meeting, the empathy could be moulded into into interest over time, and that interest could eventually lead to grandfather finding the information that would guide him into sharing my views about the danger that muggles inadvertently posed to our society.

And I had started thinking about it as our society hadn't I. A society that my previous one was very much a danger too, how, dichotomous. Ironic almost.

Grandfather continued with his report, regardless of my thoughts, so I listened.

"I managed to convince them that I was actually a wizard and not some lunatic fairly easily, transfiguration is quite intimidating to muggles, just as you'd imagine. And while the girl was personally despondent about the fact that she would not start her education into wand waving anytime soon, she seemed quite enthusiastic about the books I promised to bring her tomorrow."

Maybe I'd underestimated the empathy Abraxas felt for the muggles, he didn't even mention them beyond their existence as an access to their daughter.

"The parents?" I asked, receiving a raised eyebrow.

"They were slightly suspicious, but completely willing to go along with the plan I proposed. Bringing over some books and then popping by every few months to answer any specific questions that those did not answer."

I couldn't help but nod, yes, it was better to approach this in steps. First, literature on mundane aspects of the wizarding world and then actual lengthy interactions with magicals. Maybe a magical toy to remind them of the world they could be apart of in a few years.

"Slip a mention of occlumency into one of the books, they'll grow scared and ask for their daughter to learn it. Act as if you're reluctant but willing to let their daughter meet with me to teach her how to protect her mind, they'll be less suspicious of a young boy teaching her." I said, forgetting to filter my words.

"I apologize, I worded that poorly." I said immediately after, but to my surprise Abraxas did not at all grow angry at the impertinence of his young grandson, but simply nodded.

"A good idea, the opportunity to shape the girls mind and the understanding of her current psyche will help you in communicating to her, her, rightful place." Grandfather said with a grin, "the means necessary to avoid such a thing being discovered will be worth more reliably attaining the witch as an asset, as long as she shows even a modicum of potential."

"Do you think she has potential?" I asked. Trying to not let him see how interested I was in the answer. By the widening grin on my grandfathers place I had not succeeded, but he answered nonchalantly anyway.

"Above average from what I managed to ascertain."