44 Marius's Wisdom

On the evening of the Ministry ball in December, Clytemnestra took a very long time getting Harry ready. She dressed him in a fine set of antique dress robes that Pollux had worn for his wedding: blue velvet embroidered with gold thread and adorned with diamonds and sapphires along the collar and cuffs.

'Aunt Clytemnestra, do I have to wear these robes?' Harry complained. 'They must weigh at least a ton.'

His aunt knelt down and hemmed up the edges at the back. 'What is it your father says? Oh yes. "Watch the whinging." Wonderful phrase. Lift up your arms.'

Harry complied. 'I have other dress robes. Ones that weigh a good bit less.'

The Squib stood up and placed her hands on her hips. 'I thought that you might want to honour your great-grandfather by wearing something that belonged to him. If you'd rather not, I'm sure we can scrounge up something else. Of course, that would require much more work on my part, and you'd probably end up late to the Ministry...'

Harry's eyes fell. 'I'm sorry, Aunt Clytemnestra. I'll stop complaining.'

'There's a good lad.' She put the finishing touches on his robes and then stood back to admire her handiwork. She nodded approvingly. 'You'll do, I think. Run off and show your uncle. He's in his study.'

Harry made his way to Uncle Marius's study. The elderly man was sitting in a comfortable armchair with a book of Tennyson in his hand and his favourite pipe clenched between his teeth. Harry knocked on the door, and Uncle Marius looked up.

'Upon my word!' he exclaimed when he saw Harry. 'Who is this good-looking fellow?'

'Aunt Clytemnestra said you'd want to see,' Harry explained.

'And she was quite right,' the Squib replied. 'Turn around.'

Harry spun around and Uncle Marius nodded approvingly. 'You look every inch the heir of the House of Black tonight, my boy. I'm sure you and your father will have a marvellous time.'

'Aren't you and Aunt Clytemnestra coming?' Harry asked.

'I think it's best if we don't,' Uncle Marius said tactfully. 'Our families have been very kind to us over the past few years, what with letting us back into the family and all. It wouldn't do for us to make things unduly difficult for them.'

'Because you're Squibs,' Harry said dully. 'That's not fair.'

'Whoever said life was fair, old man? We play the hand we've been dealt. That's all any of us can do.'

'I wish things were different.'

'Be careful what you wish for,' his uncle said sternly. 'Think about it. If your aunt and I were perfectly accepted in the wizarding world, we should never have gone to the Dursleys that night, and you would be locked in a cupboard under the stairs right now instead of preparing to attend a ball at the Ministry.'

Harry grinned. 'You have a talent for putting things in perspective, Uncle Marius.'

'Years of Muggle school food will do that for you,' Uncle Marius said. 'Now run along and have a good time. Don't worry about me and your aunt. We're invited to Buckingham Palace tomorrow.'

Harry left his uncle's study and went downstairs to the parlour, where Aunt Cassiopeia was waiting, dressed in a very austere set of plain black dress robes, her hair, as always, pulled back in a tight bun. Harry thought she looked more as though she were going to a funeral than a ball, though, knowing his aunt, he rather suspected she might feel more cheerful and relaxed at a funeral, especially if it was in honour of one of the many people she loathed. The stern witch scrutinised Harry's appearance as he came in.

'The Squib knows her business, I'll give her that,' was her only remark.

They waited there in silence for five minutes before she began tapping her foot impatiently.

'Where is that father of yours?' she snapped, as though Harry were at fault. 'If he makes us late I swear to Merlin I'll Cruciate him to within an inch of his life.'

Harry made a mental note that threatening someone with the Cruciatus Curse became remarkably ineffective after the hundredth time one did it without following through.

'Haven't you ever heard of fashionably late, Aunt Cassie?' Sirius said, sweeping in majestically through the parlour doors. He was wearing a very grand set of dress robes, cloth of gold trimmed in red velvet and adorned with large rubies.

Aunt Cassie sniffed. 'You look like a walking advertisement for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.'

'However did you guess?' Sirius replied, his eyes wide. 'It took me ages to get it right.'

The old witch rolled her eyes. 'You just might have me fooled,' she replied. 'But I know for a fact that those robes were a gift to Pollux from the Moroccan Minister for Magic.'

Her nephew grinned. 'You caught me. Shall we depart?'

The two wizards and the witch gathered at the fireplace and Flooed to the Ministry.

......

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