Growing up Pureblooded

Your Ladyship? Or Maybe Not

     Jack Miller sat behind the counter of his father's shop in Little Hangleton, watching his few customers browse amongst the limited selection of goods. It was a Friday, and he would rather have been getting ready for his trip into town with his girlfriend that night, but his father's rheumatism was acting up, so he had to mind the shop instead. Like most days, there were only a handful of old biddies who had known Jack since he was wearing nappies. It was rare for a young person to come into the shop – most people under fifty preferred to drive over to Great Hangleton to do their shopping.

     "Your father's upped the price on cat food again, Jackie," shouted a hunchbacked old woman wearing a moth-eaten shawl. She was standing in front of a display of tins on the other side of the room. "If this keeps up, he'll be driving me out of house and home."

     Jack sighed. "Dad doesn't have much of a choice, Mrs Robinson," he replied. "It's costing us more money to order them. We have to make up the difference somewhere." Mrs Robinson harrumphed, but took down several tins from the shelf.

     The bell rang, and a tall woman entered, wearing a severe expression and an old-fashioned sort of black dress with very wide sleeves. Her slightly-greying black hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her sharp grey eyes peered out from behind a pair of gold-framed spectacles. Jack didn't know her, but thought she seemed somewhat familiar. He supposed she must be a visitor from Bracksmeade.

     "Good day, miss," he said. "Can I help you?"
"That remains to be seen, young man," the woman sneered contemptuously. "In any event, a common Muggle such as yourself ought to show more deference to your betters." She didn't sound like she was from Bracksmeade, or anywhere nearby. She could have been a countess from her accent, and judging from the way she carried herself, that might be exactly what she was. What a countess would be doing in Little Hangleton, Jack didn't know. On the other hand, if he made a special effort to be polite to her, she might give him a nice tip...

     "I beg your pardon, my lady," he said quickly. "My name's Jack Miller, and I am at Your Ladyship's service." A ghost of a smile flickered across the woman's face. "Well, Miller, you at least seem to know your proper place," she said. "If there are more Muggles like you, then perhaps there is some hope for the world after all. Would you happen to know where I might find the former Gaunt residence?"

     "I certainly do, my lady," Jack replied. "If Your Ladyship would be so gracious as to wait a few minutes whilst I close up shop, I'd be happy to take you there." "Excellent," the lady replied in a haughty tone. Jack now was certain she must be a lady of very noble birth. "I have to wait for my nephew to arrive anyway. He's been delayed by a meeting. He's a rather important man, you know, my late brother's only heir and the head of our family. He has many weighty responsibilities."

     Jack gulped. One aristocrat was more than enough for him to deal with in one day. Nonetheless, he summoned his strength and returned to his other customers. Mrs Robinson had just finished paying for her cat food – a process that took twice as long with all the curious glances she kept giving their visiting countess – when a good-looking man with long black hair and a goatee walked in, simultaneously whipping off his designer sunglasses with a single motion of his hand. He moved with a casual elegance that Jack immediately envied, and he dressed for coolness: a pair of jeans, leather boots, a black T-shirt and a leather jacket.

      "I'm sorry, sir," he said. 'We're closing up shop for lunch." "It's quite all right, Miller," Her Ladyship said. "This is my nephew." That surprised Jack quite a bit. He hadn't expected someone who looked like some sort of film star. Fortunately, he managed to recover his composure quickly.

     "I'm very sorry, Your Lordship," he said respectfully. "I didn't realise." His Lordship raised an eyebrow and glanced at his aunt.
"Isn't he" – Jack thought he heard 'it', but that couldn't be right – 'a polite Muggle?' Her Ladyship said. 'I was very impressed by his' – did she really say 'its'? – 'manners." "Indeed," His Lordship replied wryly. "He seems very polite."

     Once the nephew opened his mouth, any doubts Jack entertained about his identity were instantly dispelled. He sounded as though he belonged in Westminster, not Little Hangleton. "Will he be taking us to the Gaunt hovel?" His Lordship went on. Her Ladyship nodded.

     "Excellent," His Lordship replied. "I'm anxious to get back to Hogwarts as soon as possible. I gave the boys a few...gifts before term, and they said they were planning to use them today." Jack supposed that Hogwarts must be the name of his country estate.

     Her Ladyship pursed her lips disapprovingly. "Only you, Sirius, would think of magic tricks at a time like this." His Lordship shrugged. "I like to see the boys happy," he said in a sober voice, and Jack thought he saw the older lady's expression soften momentarily.

     A few minutes later, everything was locked up and Jack was leading his two exalted guests down the road to the old Gaunt shack. He had thought they would want to drive, the shack being quite far away, but Her Ladyship said that the weather was particularly fine, and she should like to walk. Surprisingly, Jack noticed that neither she nor her nephew seemed to have arrived into town by means of any vehicle at all – at least not that he could detect.

     The shack was two or three miles from the shop, and as they drew closer to their destination, Jack was beginning to get winded. He wanted desperately to stop and have a bit of a rest, but it would have been too humiliating, especially since his two companions, both of whom were older than he, seemed to be managing the hike with no difficulties at all. In fact, they seemed quite rejuvenated by it.

     Finally, when Jack's muscles were burning in furious protest and his lungs were refusing to take another breath, they reached the Gaunt shack. "You have done well, Miller," Her Ladyship said. "You may leave us now."

     Jack went pale at the thought of walking all that way back, but he dared not contradict the woman. She was clearly a lady who was accustomed to be obeyed. He turned around and set off, but His Lordship called after him to stop. He pulled his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans and flipped it open. Jack's eyes went wide as His Lordship fished out a couple of hundred-pound notes and handed them over.

     "I hope it's enough," His Lordship said with an apologetic smile. "I've always had rather a hard time figuring this stuff out. It hardly feels like real money."

     "M-much obliged, my lord," Jack stammered as he backed away. "Anything else you need, please don't hesitate to ask."

     Once he'd got a respectable distance away, Jack sat down behind some bushes to take a break. He just couldn't walk all the way back to the shop without resting up a bit first. He felt like was about to pass out. On the other hand, he got two hundred quid out of the deal, so he wasn't that badly off.

     He peeked through the leaves at his two mysterious visitors, who were standing in front of the shack and talking to each other in low voices. Her Ladyship drew a long stick out of her sleeve and raised it high above her head and cackled. With mounting horror, Jack remembered where he had seen her before. It was the woman he had seen attacking Riddle House on a broomstick that night. It was the Wicked Witch of the West.

     He scrambled to his feet as she shouted something in what might have been Latin, and a bright burst of violet light came out of her stick and hit the shack. Jack ran back to the shop as fast as his legs could carry him, suddenly discovering, as is so often the case, that his legs and lungs had a good bit of fight left in them once they had the proper incentive.