Nexus Event - Chapter 13 (Patreon)

Yesterday:

Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley had been left alone.

That fact was more important than it might first seem. Even if the three of them weren't truly important to the 'story' in any significant way, they were still a valid target for an assassin. Even with Cassandra in the background retrieving all of Voldemort's horcruxes, whoever had been sent after me should understand how distracting it would be to have the petulant child of a dark lord running around killing people. It was especially relevant if they had my mission docket.

Given the scope and scale of what I needed to accomplish, dealing with Tom Riddle wasn't all that great a challenge, but it was still taking up a bit of my time here and there. Killing the Dursleys wouldn't stymie me all that much, but it would put me on a timer as far as Harriet's protections went. With no way to recharge them, she'd be vulnerable to the horcrux lodged in her soul unless I dealt with Voldemort as a priority.

Even if the assassin didn't decide to kill them though, there was still the avenue of taking them hostage and trying to draw me out. If nothing else, that would give them my measure as someone who was willing to risk the lives of billions for a family of three abusive assholes or let them know that I was more of a pragmatist when it came to things like that.

But, nope.

The Dursleys were fine, going about their placidly small-minded lives like always.

So, the question becomes whether my unasked-for antagonist just made assumptions about me or if they didn't know the plot.

If the former was true, I was up against an idiot, and I could use that.

If the latter was true, though, it meant The Company almost certainly hadn't sent a Contractor, and I needed to adjust my decision-making paradigm to the new situation.

Which meant I needed to test which one of those was true and which was false.

That was where the Grangers came in. Regardless of the parents, Hermione Granger was an asset to whoever she was allied with. A headstrong asset which occasionally made obsessive and costly mistakes, but an asset nonetheless. She was also mentally and emotionally fragile at age eleven and could be manipulated easily.

If I were running whatever operation my would-be killer was, Hermione would be my number one priority to grab. Simply telling her the unvarnished truth about the Wizarding World would turn her to your side easily. Even if she wouldn't be a match for one of my coterie augmented with Technological Brilliance, you didn't need something like that to be a thorn in someone's side with hit-and-run tactics.

Hermione Granger, though, was still with her family at home.

So... was it a trap?

I'd set up contingencies, of course. All of the 'away team' was carrying teleport beacons, the scrying mirror was locked onto us and being used by Sara to see through illusions and glamours so nothing could sneak up on us. We'd prepared the meeting ground beforehand and hidden a few dormant enchanted items ready to be called upon should the need arise, as well as a number of concealed maidroid golems armed with the heaviest ordinance we had available. Lastly, I'd chosen a much more remote area of the country to meet the Grangers in the event that something similar to the last time happened.

The meeting would be held without The Company's phone, though.

Then, tomorrow, we'd set up the maidroids under heavy-duty illusions to impersonate both ourselves and the Grangers and do the exact same song and dance while placing the phone at the scene.

A nice, scientific test of exactly how much my adversary knew.

“When we got your invitation, we honestly expected your parents, young man.” Eustace stated, still mildly surprised in being met by three children. His wife Jillian, only a bit shorter than him, gave her husband a subtle look of reproach as they sat down at the table.

Hermione, bouncing with restrained energy, took a seat next to Illyana, who greeted her with a smile. Cassandra, to my right, merely gave a passive nod to the adults.

“Now Eustace,” the man's wife nudged him. “We don't know how things are done in their society. There's bound to be a bit of a culture shock.”

I smiled and nodded. “The etiquette is a bit complicated at times, but wizarding children of a certain standing are generally expected to start entertaining guests and scheduling events just before or soon after they start schooling. Nothing serious, of course, but it's considered good practice for later in life.”

“Would you happen to have a book on etiquette? The social dynamics at play sound fascinating and I would ever so hate to head off to Hogwarts unprepared,” Hermione asked as she looked between myself and my parents.

“I think I have something I could lend you,” I nodded. “It's always refreshing to see newcomers taking an interest in the culture they're going to be living under.”

The two adults exchanged a glance before Eustace spoke up again. “Do you mind if I ask, ah... Solomon?” I nodded, affirming he had permission to call me by my first name. “How exactly you knew to contact our Hermione? Just to put to rest some curiosity my wife and I held, you understand.”

“Easily answered,” I replied. “My family owns Hogwarts-”

Hermione's eyes widened, as did that of her parents.

“-and we try to keep on the lookout for those with great potential.” Here, I nodded towards their daughter, who flushed a bit. “Hermione certainly seems to qualify, to me at least. So I thought scheduling an introduction and getting my foot in the door early would be a worthy endeavor.”

Eustace and Jillian seemed a bit flattered at the reveal, even if it wasn't wholly (or entirely) true. Jillian cleared her throat before replying. “We're happy to hear that there's people out there that appreciate our daughter. She's had quite the bit of trouble fitting in at school-”

 “Mother!” Hermione spoke up, her voice wavering between a cry and a whine.

“It's perfectly all right,” Illyana chimed in, reaching over to squeeze the bushy-haired girl's arm reassuringly. “Being exceptionally intelligent at a young age can be difficult. The group of friends we're building around Solomon and his sister all have similar problems in that regard.”

“For one reason or another,” I nodded, smiling at Cass, who gave me a subtle grin in return.

“A Magical Mensa, then.” Eustace commented, smirking at his alliteration before pausing. “Or, at least, a junior version of it.”

“You think Hermione will be okay then, even with her... late start, so to speak?” Jillian pressed. “We tried to ask that McGonagall woman some questions, but her answers were somewhat lacking. I hope we don't seem too incisive, but Eustace and I have been hoping to have a frank discussion with some, ah... magical folk about the school and society in general.”

Illyana sighed and gave me a fondly exasperated look before I could finish opening my mouth. “That's perfectly fine. Solomon's particular specialty lies in history and society, you could say.”

I gave a faux-affronted sniff. “You say that like it's a bad thing.”

Which it wasn't, because someone had to know this stuff to properly navigate the world around us, and the knowledge imprinting process The Agency used had an odd quirk of matching a person to the most natural knowledge base they could. Sara, in opposition to my focus on the historic, could enumerate the current financial disposition, social standing, and overall political layout of the relevant magical family dynasties. Angela Ziegler's own 'new life' contained memories of learning the basics of local magical healing at her parents' feet.

Illyana, by contrast... “Besides, we all have our hobbies.”

The blonde gave Hermione a look, then rolled her eyes at me, drawing a surprised giggle from the other girl.

“You don't say? I'm something of an amateur historian myself,” Eustace stated, leaning forward with interest even as his daughter and wife cast each other another very similar set of looks. “So, as one enthusiast to another... do you mind if I ask about your last name? I mean, are you really?”

I sighed and nodded good-naturedly, then spoke up to confirm it. “I am. A great many generations removed from the fifth century King Arthur, but she was my ancestor, yes.”

Both Hermione and Jillian's eyes widened even as Eustace's mouth widened into a victorious grin. “Ha! I knew it, see honey, he just said he's-” The man blinked and turned back to me, his sudden vigor stalling out. “Wait, she?”

My own grin widened to a smirk. “I have a family history I can loan you.”

Eustace's mouth opened and closed before he squeaked out a strangled, “Please.”

“So you're really the descendant of King Arthur?” Hermione asked intently, her eyes narrowed. “But didn't Le Morte d'Arthur chronicle the death of both the king and his son Mordred?”

I shook my head. “Mallory's work, as well as the works it was based on, such as Chretien de Troyes' and Geoffrey of Monmouth's collected body of works are mostly fictional. Even Monmouth's The History of the Kings of Britain is more of a fusion of actual historical documentation from first-hand accounts and any lore that he might have felt confident enough to include for whatever, likely political, reason. There are grains of truth in each of them, probably more than you'd think given your recent introduction to magic, but a great many aspects of the story were simply created out of whole cloth to add drama and intrigue to the narrative. Or a moral parable, as was popular at the time.”

Illyana chuckled as she leaned back, distracting Hermione from her very obviously conflicted feelings on my criticism of her literary sources. “Oh, you've got him started now.”

Cassandra, ever-faithful, patted my leg comfortingly without needing to be prompted.

The movement, however, caught Jillian Granger's eye and she turned to Cass. “I'm sorry dear, I don't want to make you think we're ignoring you. You're... Cassandra?”

Cass nodded.

I cleared my throat pointedly.

Cass snorted, but nodded as she turned back to Jillian. “It's okay. Don't like to talk.”

“Cass' specialty is body language rather than spoken language,” I explained.

All three Grangers looked interested at the reveal and curious at the details, but while I was willing to expound on my own private matters, Cass' were another entirely. That, and the girl herself seemed disinclined to advertise her abilities in typical Bat-Clan fashion.

“It occurs to me...” Jillian stated slowly, looking between the three of us, “that with your talk of 'specialties,' it almost sounds like this is, well... a job interview rather than a playdate?”

The woman laughed off her own question, her husband and daughter looking startled by the observation. Jillian herself seemed surprised when none of us responded with our own polite humor.

“That's not entirely incorrect,” Illyana grimaced slightly, drawing our guests attention back to her. “Although it's a little bit too formal in that context. We're not conditioning our friendship with Hermione in any material way, we're simply attempting to initiate an early alliance that, should your daughter continue to excel as she has been, we think will pay us rather large dividends.”

All three Grangers looked at each other.

I cleared my throat into the awkward silence, “How about we eat? We have the establishment to ourselves and I had my staff substitute for the restaurant today. Anything you like, my treat.”

As that little bombshell was digested and the small family looked around to the empty eatery with new eyes, they each picked up a menu while a maidroid golem approached. It had surprised me, too, that someone had been willing to rent out their entire establishment to this degree, but as always money spoke louder than anything else. I'd simply paid triple the going rate and offered to subsidize the full staff's pay for the two days we'd be using the building. Adding a bonus for the manager had sealed the deal. It was, thankfully, a corporate owned franchise, so if something unfortunate happened and the building exploded, it was fully ensured.

Honestly, I would have preferred to simply build my own establishment and operate out of there as-needed, but I didn't want to give my would-be assassins too much time to get creative. It was one thing to apparently withdraw after a failed attempt on my life for a few weeks. It was entirely another to give them months to plan and scheme while being entirely absent.

After food was served, the conversation continued.

“So...” Eustace began, waving his fork around. “Forgive me if this sounds like I'm retreading earlier ground, but this does seem fairly... political for children your age. That's the norm for wizarding society?”

I shook my head as I took a drink of my soda. “It's the norm for, well... I don't want to sound like a snob or anything, but the wizarding world is a highly stratified society. My family hasn't been on the isles for several centuries, so given that my sister and I are going to be spending much of our next decade here, it falls on us to construct a support base of friends, confidants, and allies that we can rely on after graduation.”

Eustace hummed around a bite of food, then swallowed as he looked to his daughter. “Well, pumpkin, at least you don't have to worry about your impressive diction putting the kids off. Sounds like they'll actually be able to understand you.”

Hermione reddened. “Daa~aaad, stop! I, um... to change the subject, what would my-er, obligations be, exactly?”

The awkward question was nevertheless delivered with a confident tone and piercing gaze. “Nothing official. As we stated earlier, this isn't anything formal, but building a positive relationship would require time and energy spent on cooperative activities. Board games, card games, exploring the castle, and of course studying together.”

Her face firmed. “I won't be doing anyone's homework for them.”

Absently, I noticed how her parents smiled proudly at that response.

I shook my head. “Of course not. That kind of laziness isn't something we're looking for in a potential friend. What I was more referring to is taking part in review exercises and helping each other on particularly difficult parts of the curriculum.”

Hermione nodded, smiling and relieved. “Those are much more acceptable terms, thank you for clarifying.”

I smiled back. “My pleasure. I suppose I should ask if there's anything in particular you're looking for in this arrangement?”

The bushy-haired girl frowned slightly, considering the question with a weight I'd expect from someone three times her age. Her parents seemed content to remain silent as their daughter took over the conversation, looking equally amused, bemused, and proud of the young girl.

“I suppose my principal concern would be an explanation of social etiquette. I was... somewhat ill-equipped to deal with those challenges in my previous schooling environment. If what you've said about the stratification of wizarding society is true, though, it makes it a much more pressing concern. Would you be willing to expound on that point?”

“Certainly, though the matter isn't particularly pleasant,” I cautioned her. “The local wizarding world is currently staunchly divided between two principal factions. The first are what are known as 'Purebloods.' In the simplest terms, they are individuals and families that can trace their lineage back three generations without a non-magical ancestor. This is important because, practically-speaking, it makes it very difficult to produce a child who does not have magic.”

 “That happens?” Jillian asked, drawing our attention as she realized her own interjection. “Ah, my apologies for interrupting, but my husband and I are very interested in this new world our daughter will be learning in.”

“Think nothing of it,” I replied with a nod, taking a thoughtful bite of my food to buy me time to consider the question before replying. “It's not usually spoken of in polite society, but non-magical children born to magical families are known as 'squibs.' While it's clear they have some small talent, they don't breach what's commonly referred to as the 'Xing-Gauber Threshold,' which is the amount or potency of magic necessary to use a wand. This is treated as something of a 'birth defect' as it would be seen in your world.”

Realization dawned over their faces as they nodded, resuming their meals quietly.

“The second faction?” Hermione prompted, her fingers holding her fork twitching ever-so-slightly as they seemed to grab for a pen.

Illlyana answered in my stead. “Doesn't really have an official name, but is varyingly known as the 'Light Faction' or those who are aligned with Albus Dumbledore, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts, who also holds the position of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. That's the ruling parliamentary body which governs wizarding Britain and Scotland, for reference.”

“I'm sorry,” Euxtace asked this time, his brows furrowed in what was, as near as I could tell, consternation. “Do you mean to tell me that the Headmaster of your school is also the Prime Minister?”

“Ah, a common misconception. No, the Chief Warlock is more akin to the office of the Lord Chancellor. The Minister of Magic, our equivalent to your PM, is elected separately by a majority vote of the Wizengamot members,” I explained patiently.

Eustace, and Jillian for that matter, calmed a bit. The man's wife spoke up, “Still, isn't that a bit...”

“Of a conflict of interests?” Illyana asked, nodding. “At least the Magical Princes of Russia, they're more honest about it.”

I indulged in a roll of my eyes. “Yes, I'm sure they could also teach us a thing or two about civil wars as well.”

Illyana sniffed disdainfully, but let it go at that.

The Grangers appeared fascinated at the byplay, but I shook that off to continue. “The driving motivation of the Light Faction is to support reform of various institutions and create more upward mobility for the lower classes. The Pureblood faction, more or less, wants to minimize these changes or resist them as much as possible, a process which includes keeping anyone who isn't from an established family away from the levers of power.”

Hermione took a deep breath as she realized the implications.

“There are pureblood families who agree with the Light Faction, it should be noted,” Illyana interjected with a nod in my direction. “Granted, Solomon, his sister, and I are the exception rather than the rule. Still, it would help our eventual plans to support reforms if we could display individuals who do not have magical heritage, but have nevertheless managed to assimilate into magical society and brought significant innovation to it.”

Which... well, it was kind of the plan.

If time and circumstances allowed.

Oh, don't get me wrong, there were a lot of things I would change about the wizarding world if I had the time, power, and dedication to do so. Inevitably, I would manage to sneak in some of those reforms during the upcoming crises, but I wasn't planning on making them a priority. No, the priority would be surviving and ensuring the survival of as much of humanity as I could in the process.

As nice as it would be to have another capable mind working with my little coterie, I wasn't deluding myself in regards to Hermione's true usefulness. If she wanted to prioritize legal and societal reform in the wizarding world, that would be fine. I'd even support her.

But the real issue was waiting on the edge of my seat for an attack that Sara ensured me wasn't yet there.

The conversation continued, with Hermione agreeing to visit over the next week or two in order to get more acquainted with our positions, offerings, and expectations. As a parting gift, I loaned Eustace the family history and Hermione the book on etiquette. When prompted, Jillian shyly requested one of the more simple bestiaries, having revived a childhood interest in unicorns ever since she learned her daughter was a witch.

..

Today:

Sara was a noncombatant and, although it chaffed, I was the most important part of our team. If I died, the mission was automatically failed and The Agency would recall them and salvage what they could when the time came. So, instead of going straight to the battlefield like my Bat-instincts demanded, I returned with my sister to the island.

“Talk to me,” I ordered, looking up at the monitor.

An immense space around the restaurant had been blocked off by blue walls of solidified energy, a function of the special surprise I'd prepared for the assholes trying to kill me.

“The robots self-destructed shortly after the barrier went up and the disguised maidroids teleported out,” Mercy stated, her full armor on and modified by Sam to have extra defensive features. “Illyana is currently combing the area for any signs of a controller, but it looks like this was another suicide run by whoever our faceless puppetmaster is.”

“Yeah, I'm going to call it,” Magik called out, her form concealed by the matte-black armor of the Darkchylde. “The trap was sprung cleanly, if anything or anyone with Company or Agency technology or magic was running around, they would have been cut off. The only blips I'm getting are what's left of the 'bots.”

“I'm getting the same,” Sara stated, focused on the scans her own computer was running. “Bring in those fragments, though, I am reading residuals off them and we could get some actionable intelligence.”

I grimaced. “Damn, they're going to be more careful after this.”

Mercy replied. “Well, look at the bright side. It's unlikely they'll have an unlimited number of these. Even for an organization like The Company, there's a limited amount of a product like this which can conceivably 'go missing' without attracting attention.”

“You were also right about them not giving a damn about the people here,” Sara chimed in. “So it doesn't look like we're dealing with a Contractor out to capture harem members. This is a deniable asset.”

“Anything on the scrying mirror Willow?” I called out across the room, where a visibly frustrated redhead was scowling at a powerful mystic artifact.

“Nothing worth anything. I've been trying to get a lock on the robots, but the first image I got was when they teleported in. Those lousy cheaters are using the same out of context stuff we are,” Willow sighed.

I grunted an acknowledgement, thinking on the next move.

Something pawed at the back of my mind, but I couldn't quite grasp it. An epiphany just out of reach wasn't doing anyone any good, though. “Alright, gather as much evidence as you can and bring it back for secure containment. After that, fold up the barrier and extract all of our technology. Remember to stow that phone back in limbo.”

Reaching over to another monitor, I tapped the intercom to speak to Cass, who stood ready in her full Batgirl uniform at the teleporter. “Batgirl, stand down, we don't have current intelligence on the enemy base of operations.”

Receiving an affirmative pulse from our link in lieu of any verbal response, I turned to Sara. “Wrap it up, I guess. If you get anything from the fragments, let-”

“-you know as soon as possible,” Sara replied, an amused look brushing over her face as she stood. “This isn't my first rodeo, Sol. I've got it under control. You, on the other hand, need to prep for this weekend. You and Pepper have that meeting with the president, after all.”

I sighed and nodded, adrenaline still coursing through my veins in preparation for a fight.

It was a frustrating feeling.

~~~

Okay, so getting the poll out of the way first. Winning Peace came in pretty firmly with the lead, Industrious followed up, and The New Ron was a comfortable third. Nexus Event and Where Your God is finished in a virtual tie for 4th/5th place. So this month will be more Winning Peace!

That's the weekend's chapter coming up.

As far as this chapter goes, though, we finally get to see Hermione and the trap planned last chapter is explained. Next chapter will be a conversation with the US President. That... seems like a recurring theme in some of my works, huh.

Anyway, Solomon is certainly feeling the frustration at having a mastermind out to kill him.