- CHAPTER ONE -
Spies on the Bridge
It had been weeks since the break in at the Ministry of Magic, where Harry Potter and his friends had narrowly escaped death, at the hands of Lord Voldermort and his followers. The Dark Lord had been prevented from obtaining the orb, which contained a vital prophecy. Many of the Death Eaters, who had escaped Akzaban, had been recaptured, yet the victory had tasted anything but sweet.
In houses all around the country, witches and wizards had woken to the horrifying news of the break in, and with heavy hearts, had all been finally forced to except the unbearable truth, that the Dark Lord had returned.
An unnatural chill and constricting bleakness had now settled upon the land. Every darkened alleyway and corner was now filled, with the low rumbling of hushed whispers. Rumors now spread like choking vines, about the Dark Lord; his ill deeds, and his army, which reported swelled further each day. Hushed voices spoke in low tones, not just of Death Eaters and Dark Wizards, but of other dark and sinister creatures.
The news in the papers was just as bleak. The Daily Prophet had been awash with report after report, about the Ministry's numerous bumbling errors. Each article making the Ministry look increasing weak and ill prepared, to face the danger that now threatened to come.
In their streets and homes, the people of the land wrestled with thoughts of what had happened the last time Voldermort had gained such power. The Dark Lord had looked poised to succeed in driving the wizarding community into submission. Yet they had all been spared this crushing catastrophe, because of the boy who lived. Few in their joy at the time, had stopped to question what had happened, but now many gave the matter great thought. Whist Harry Potter had succeeded in thwarting The Dark Lords plans at the Ministry, few drew strength from such knowledge. To many Harry was still just a boy. A boy possessed with some form of inhuman luck, or protected but some special spell. But surely The Dark Lord would not make the same mistake twice, what luck or spell could hope to prevail against the greatest dark wizard, the world had ever seen.
In the towns and villages across the land, those responsible for the protection and safety of others, rushed from place to place hurriedly making plans, preparing defenses and hoping beyond hope, that their hard work would be enough keep Voldermort and the Death Eaters from their doors.
In no place was this more the case than in the Stretton Vale. An ancient collection of hill lined valleys that housed the largest gathering of witch and wizard filled villages in the country. Their tiny settlements, which had existed since Roman times, were so old that they still retained their own protectors and sheriffs, know as the Harpers. It was these unlucky souls, who now found it their task to ensure the safety of those who dwelled within the valley, during these dark times.
*
The first hint of morning light crept through the icy darkness, painting the sky in dark shades of crimson and purple. As high in the sky, barely visible against the dark canopy of the heavens, a solitary crow circled ominously.
The bleak bird, with its chipped and scarred beak, completed its slow decent and slipped unseen into the concealing branches of a tall tree, at the furthest end of a large garden, which overlooked a solitary house.
The house, at which the beady eyed bird stared so intently, was some what unusually by Muggle standards; it was encased in flowers and bushy vines, which climbed timber lattices that hugged almost all of the white painted walls. Whilst beneath a snug thatched roof, sleepy windows peeped out cautiously through frilly white curtains, into a sprawling garden where dimly lit lanterns hung from trees, casting ghostly shadows in the remnants of the night air.
Assailed by the unnatural gloom and chill, which had plagued the valley since the Dark Lords return, the house looked most out of place. In happier times, the cozy home could easily have been mistaken, for one of those idyllic houses you often saw in oil paintings, or on snowy white Christmas cards. Yet since word of The Dark Lords return had spread, life in this part of the world had felt increasingly less idyllic.
As the ominous bird continued to watch from its sheltered perch, it tilted its head suddenly at the sound of a faint pop. Just outside the garden, in a small clearing surrounded by pale white stones, a man had just appeared. He was crouched as if inspecting one of the pale stones, and was wearing what looked like a leaf covered cloak. No sooner had the man appeared, than he rose to his feet and started to stride purposefully across the tiny clearing. He passed over a small arched foot bridge and into the long garden of the house beyond. A snow white dog jogged behind him, matching the man's pace and stride with almost military precisions. As he hastened down the garden, the man cast back his hood and glanced around furtively. His dirty blonde shoulder length hair, brushing against the leafy scales of his cloak, as his rugged unshaven features momentarily illuminated, by the dull glow of the tiny lanterns hanging in the trees.
Inside the house, the owner of Lavender Cottage, Roderek Dobson, stood leaning against the kitchen sink, casually stirring his morning tea. The vague scent of pumpkin and primrose prickled the air, as he stood warming himself next to a large iron stove topped with cauldrons.
He was a tall well built man, with a protruding brow and a calmly confident, almost serene, manner. He stifled a yawn and raised a hand absent mindedly, ruffling it through his short dark hair.
The door of the kitchen suddenly burst inwards, icy darkness spilling into the room as the man in the leaf scaled cloak man swept inside.
"Have you seen it?" snapped the cloaked man urgently,
Roderek raised a calm appraising eyebrow in the man's direction, as he finished sipping from his large pumpkin shaped mug.
"Firstly Rodney" replied Roderek evenly,
"What, are talking about. And secondly I'll thank you to close the door behind you. I'm not trying to heat the entire village you know" the hint of a wry smile spread across Roderek's face, yet it seemed lost to his friend, who turned hastily to close the door.
"Have you seen it?" repeated Rodney insistently as he turned back to face Roderek,
"I'm not skilled in Legilimency Rodney" replied Roderek patiently,
"So kindly explain what are talking about",
"Today's Daily Prophet" blurted Rodney. Hurriedly drawing his copy, from within the folds of his robes. He strode across the kitchen and laid the paper out on the large oak table, as Roderek slipped into one of the chairs to inspect it.
"Look" said Rodney jabbing a finger at a picture on the front page of the Daily Prophet.
The picture, at which Roderek found himself staring, was something of a rarity for the Daily Prophet, as it was not a picture taken from a wizard's camera. Instead of tiny black and white moving figures, Roderek found himself staring at the countless grainy dots of a Muggle photograph.
At first glance, the picture appeared absurdly strange to Roderek. The Muggle photograph seemed to show an exact moment frozen in time, as if locked there by some spell. The picture itself was of an everyday bridge, teaming with noisy Muggle motor cars, motionless clouds of dirty grey smoke pluming from their exhausts. To the sides of the motor cars, Muggles attired in their outlandish clothing were similarly frozen, caught in usual looking poses as they hurried along the pavements. All in all, the Muggle photograph was a most unnatural looking sight. Yet it was not these images that had suddenly attracted Roderick's frowning stare, for there, in the farthest corner of the photograph, almost obscured by the darkness of the alleyway, stood two ominous shadowy figures. Unlike the Muggles, each figure was dressed in long dark hooded cloaks. Their faces obscured from view, as they gazed between the bridge and a stained piece of parchment, which one of the dark clad figures clutched surreptitiously, in his grimy claw-like hands.
Intrigued Roderek snatched up the newspaper headlined; "Mass Murderers Caught on Muggle Camera?", and flicked hastily from page to page.
Inside the Daily Prophet, were numerous pictures that Roderek had seen in the paper several days earlier. Of a twisted mass of metal and concrete, which was littered with the wreckage of Muggle motor vehicles. Had a person not been paying careful attention, they could have been easily forgiven for not noticing, that the twisted mass of metal and rubble was in fact the same bridge, which Roderek had just been inspecting in the Muggle photograph.
Roderek trawled intently through several more pages. His dark hazel eyes jumping swiftly from line to line, pausing finally to read a new article entitled; "Wizard and Muggle communities, real in the aftermath of the Brockdale Bridge collapse. Hand of the Dark Lord strongly suspected".
"Strongly suspected" scoffed Rodney scornfully, as he peered over Roderek's shoulder.
"I swear Fudge is still manipulating the Daily Prophet" he grumbled.
"I mean, who else does he think he can blame it on Babbity Rabbit, or Fizz Pop Fairy?"
Rodney appeared to be just about to launch into another, of his full blown tirades about the Minister for Magic. When the snow white dog, which had accompanied him in to the house, raised its head sharply, ears pricked. The two men turned, listening instinctively. Sure enough, within moments the sounds of footstep could be heard marching down the gravel path, which lead from the front of the house.
A familiar somewhat squat shadow trumped past the blind covered windows, at the far end of the kitchen, and Rodney let out an audible groan.
"Oh no" moaned Rodney, rolling his eyes to stare the ceiling,
"What does he want at this time of the morning".
The footsteps halted outside the kitchen door, and were followed a few seconds later by the slightest of knocks. Then, without a moments pause for an answer, the door swung open to admit a most unusually dressed visitor.
The new comer to the room was a slightly plump middle aged man. He had long brown hair, almost to his shoulders, yet the top of his head was almost completely bald, bar for a few stray hairs, which had been painstakingly teased over, in an attempt to hide the shinny bald scalp beneath. His eyebrows were immensely bushy and well groomed. As was his neatly trimmed mustache, which bore such a remarkable resemblance to his eye brows, that it looked as if one of them had wandered down his nose to take a drink and just stayed there. There was also remarkably pompous, almost military air about the man. As if he considered himself to be an extremely important person, which any stray person might have believed had it not been for the man's extraordinary choice of clothes. He was wearing what appeared to be, a billowing bright blue smock with shimmering yellow stars, and a pair of incredibly fluffy white slippers. All in all, an outfit that made the man look like an overgrown child.
"Good morning neighbour" crooned the man, in a high pitched nasal tone.
"Don't you knock?" grumbled Rodney grumpily, eyeing the new comer with a look of obvious dislike.
"Of course I knocked" replied the man curtly. Yet he appeared to be pointedly refusing to even look at Rodney. Instead he continued to smile courteously at Roderek.
"Yes well" continued Rodney loudly,
"Normally civilised people wait, until they are asked to enter", Roderek raised an eyebrow and shot a side ways glance a Rodney. In all the years they'd known each other Rodney had never knocked, or waited to enter the Dobson's home. What's more, Roderek couldn't recall Rodney ever knocking at his parent's house when they were boys. But in both cases, Rodney was virtually considered family anyway.
The balding man cocked his nose, obvious stung by Rodney's comment, but continued to gaze at Roderek as if Rodney simply wasn't there.
"I just popped in, to see if there are any developments, as a result of today's news" he droned again in his long nasal tone. Nodding slightly in the direction of the Daily Prophet, that was spread open on the kitchen table in front of Roderek.
"I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you're talking about Pitchford" replied Roderek calmly,
"Yes, what are you talking about Farty?" jibbed Rodney.
"The names, Flarty, as well you know" growled Pitchford Flarty angrily through gritted teeth, and fixing Rodney with a particularly contemptuous glare.
"My mistake" coughed Rodney, attempting to suppress a broad boyish grin,
"Slip of the tongue",
Pitchford continued to glare fiercely at Rodney for a moment, and then with a deep composing breath, he re-gathered his overly pompous air of dignity and returned his gaze to Roderek,
"So have you seen today's paper Roderek?" he continued conversationally,
"What, this one right here on the table in plain view" asked Rodney gleefully, as he stirred his tea.
Again, Pitchford's jaw muscles clenched as he attempted to pretend he had not heard Rodney's wisecracking quip, and with a degree of difficultly, continued.
"Have you had a chance to read it yet?" he added,
Roderek opened his mouth to reply, but unfortunately Rodney beat him to the punch.
"No Pitchford, the paper just naturally fell open like that" he replied Rodney sarcastically. It was now obvious from Rodney's uncontrollable boyish grin that he was relishing the opportunity to irate Roderek's gossiping, trouble maker next door neighbour.
"Of course we've read it you berk" he added,
Thinking Rodney's last comment might have crossed the line. Roderek quickly raised a hand, hoping to cut the two men off before a full blown argument ensued. Yet as Pitchford's head jerked sharply to glare at Rodney, instead of fury, there was glint of malicious pleasure in his eyes.
"Really" drawled Pitchford, with an air of smugness.
"Then you shouldn't have too much trouble telling me, what further precautions and defenses the Harpers will be implementing, as a result of what's been reported in today's Daily Prophet". Looking thoroughly pleased with himself, Flarty pouted his chest and rocked back and forth on his heels, gazing around the room, his bushy mustache barely hiding his self satisfied grin.
"I only ask, as being a well respected member of this community, people naturally ask me about these things".
"I'm not quite sure I'm with you Pitchford" replied Roderek, placing a hand on Rodney's arm, in an attempt to prevent him from agitating Pitchford further.
"This news about the bridge" continued Roderek,
"It's nothing new. The bridge incident was days ago. Why would we alter the defenses just because of a new picture?"
"That's right" cut in Rodney, shrugging off Roderek's hand and raising an accusing figure at Pitchford.
"Were already patrolling the Vale by night, plus we've put Dwoomer charms and a hurling hex barrier over the whole Vale. Not mention the alarms charms and the fixing of the floos. What more do you want, a personal bodyguard just because of Muggle picture, of a bridge miles away".
"Oh" replied Pitchford pointedly, with an air of overly dramatic false surprise.
"I wasn't referring to the bridge" he added, his bushy mustache twitching again, as it fought to hide another broad self satisfied grin.
"So what are you talking about" asked Roderek politely.
"Page twenty seven", replied Pitchford in a particularly smug voice, rocking back and forth on his heels once more.
Roderek carefully turned the pages of the paper to page twenty seven, as Rodney strode over to gaze over his shoulder.
"Oh no" muttered Rodney,
"I see what you mean" he gasped,
"Old witch in Kent, discovers ancient recipe for world's thickest gravy" read Rodney smirking,
"Better call all the troops in on that one. Can't run the risk of that falling into the wrong hands".
"It's further down the page" growled Pitchford,
"Two for one sale on cat hats?" asked Rodney silkily, gazing back up at Pitchford,
"Going to give Mr. Tibbles a treat are you?" Flarty, who had now turned a glowing shade of red, stormed across the room and stabbed an accusing finger at a small article, in the bottom right corner of the page.
"There!" he barked defiantly.
Rodney gazed back down hoping to find something equally pointless to continue ridiculing Flarty over, but what he found soon striped the smile from his face.
The small article, contained breaking news of the gruesome murder of a local wizard, named Nigellus Tyler. Whose house lay less than ten miles away, from where the men currently stood.
"Eviscerated!"
The word echoed around the room, as the two friends stared opened mouthed at the article. Roderek snatched the paper up from the table and began reading the article aloud, in shocked disbelief.
"Final member of the wealthy Tyler family, Nigellus Tyler, was found dead at his family's mansion late yesterday evening, when security alarms on the family's in house vault were set off. Local Aurora's, from the Ministry's facilities in Salop town, arrived on the scene, only to find Tyler's eviscerated body. Ministry officials have refused at this time to make any further comments relating to the crime, and have not even confirmed if Death Eaters were involved".
A long hushed silence filled in the room.
"Is that it?" asked Rodney scowling,
"A man gets eviscerated in his own home, and the paper only gives it a few poxy lines on page twenty seven? And why won't they comment on it being Death Eaters, I mean, it must have been them".
Roderek did not answer, Rodney had a point. So much seemed out of place, yet he dared not say anything in front of the loose lipped Flarty.
Several more long moments past, then the silence of the room was broken by Flarty clearing his throat.
"So then" he asked matter-of-factly,
"Any comments for me to pass to other concerned citizens?"
"None", replied Roderek, hastily rising from his chair and cutting Rodney off, before he could speak.
"Were not elders Pitchford. This is fresh information, and only the Harper elders can order a change in any of our plans". Roderek hastily fastened a leaf scale cloak, similar to Rodney's, around his neck and gave a low shrill whistle. A few seconds later a shaggy thick set, brown dog appeared from the interior of the house.
"Tuck this into your robes Rodney" he muttered quietly, handing The Daily Prophet to Rodney, as he snatching up a small bag from off a nearby cupboard.
Rodney, seeming to have taken some kind of unspoken queue from his friend, tucked the paper inside his robes, and joined Roderek at the door, their two dogs, following close behind.
"We'd best be off to the Harpers Halls" replied Roderek to Flarty's questioning stare. As he opened the door and indicated as politely as possible that it was also time for Flarty to leave.
"But" stammered Flarty,
"And I assure you" added Roderek hastily, sensing Pitchford's next comment.
"That if any extra course of action is necessary, the Harpers will take it. And you will be among the first to know, alright".
"Also" added Roderek, turning back as he a Rodney started up the garden, towards the small clearing of white circled stones.
"I don't want you to mention a word of this to Annie".
"I think your wife has a right to know" replied Flarty shortly,
"No" replied Roderek in a stern and resolute tone, as he paused and fixed Flarty with particularly stern stare.
"She's my wife Pitchford, and she's got enough on her mind right now", Roderek paused, his eyes narrowed slightly as he surveyed Pitchford expression, as if trying to discern what he was thinking.
After a several long moments he spoke again, his voice slow and clearly.
"I forbid you, to mention this to her Pitchford. I shall be the one to break any such news to her. Is that clear?".
There was no mistaking the finality in Roderek's tone, and even though the pompous Pitchford Flarty looked taken aback at being forbidden, it appeared from his expression that he had no desire to anger Roderek, by ignoring his wishes.
"Very well, as you wish", muttered Pitchford mutedly, and after a moment's pause and a slight nod of his head, he turned and shuffled back up the gravel path to the front gate. As the two men, flanked by their dogs, strode quickly up the garden and into the white stoned grove beyond.
*
Back in the corner of the kitchen, by a warm stove, a tiny baby swathed in blankets stirred. No sooner had the baby's first murmur left his lips than his mother, Annie Dobson, swept into the kitchen. She quieted the tiny woken infant almost instantly, as Annie clad in long velvet robes, stooped to pick up the baby and nurse him. A long stray soft brown hair from her pony tail, tickling the baby's face as she slowly rose, and bore the tiny infant off deeper into the interior of house.
Deep within the heart of the cozy cottage, things were far less apprehensive. The remaining inhabitants of Lavender Cottage had started their daily business, apparently unaware of the serious matters, which had been under discussion in the kitchen, only minutes ago.
The cottages living room was large and long, with giant wooden beams that supported the ceiling. The far wall was completely obscured by shelf after shelf of spell books, which hid every inch of paint and plaster from view. Whilst the long front wall, by comparison, was covered from end to end, by the smiling, waving figures, of countless wizard photographs.
To gaze at the wall, was almost like looking at an entire history of the Dobson family. The furthest end of the room started with photos of Roderek and Annie as children themselves, proceeded by pictures of them from their days at Hogwarts. One picture showed the broadly grinning figures of Roderek and Rodney, proudly sported their Quidditch robes before their first match, as beaters for Griffindor. Whilst in a picture next to it, the trio of Annie, Roderek and Rodney, stood with their arms around each others shoulders, laughing and smiling next to the Hogwarts Express. The boys sporting the colours of Griffindor, and Annie the colours of Hufflepuff.
Despite Lavender Cottage not being his official home, Rodney was as much, a part of daily life, as any other family member. Several pictures above the largest sofa in particular, showed Rodney and Roderek fooling around. In one, the two men laughed as they fooled around in a fishing boat. Whilst in another, the two men jumped and cheered drunkenly at a Quidditch match, their faces daubed in the painted colours of the Womborn Wasps. There was even a picture of Rodney, the proud godfather of all four of the Dobson children, surrounded by the children, who all smiled, laughed and hugged him affectionately, as they all grinned at the camera.
A slight cracking noise broke the serenity of the room. As from the corner, a highly polished wizard wireless finished its haunting melody, and the early morning announcer started giving out tips of the day, for faster growing snaffleroot.
Sat on the largest most comfortable arm chair in the room, the Dobson's eldest daughter, the studious eight year old Isabella, sat cross legged her head flickering between "A History of Magic" and Bodaci Botts "Basic Achedemic Training (BAT's) – The Complete Guide for Young Wizards". On the arm of the chair her cat, the aloof Siamese Prudeta, sat, its head moving in time with her mistresses, as if equally engrossed in reading the same books.
Across the room, a giant set of patio doors were spread open invitingly, to the glowing rays of the early morning sun, as outside the velvet clad Annie Dobson, beavered away in the garden, collecting various pungent smelling herbs and the occasional wiggling plant. As she labored, her second eldest daughter, four year old Lynn, ran in and out of the giant glass doors. Gleefully playing chase with the families youngest dog, stopping only occasionally to tickle her younger sister Lucy, who sat gurgling and grinning at her elder sisters antics, whilst playing with a pile of witches widgets.
Finally, in the corner of the room, next to a warm fire was the new born baby Robert, slept swathed in his blankets.
The haunting melody on the wizard wireless slowly faded, as the host announced that the next piece of music to be played, would be by the "Greater Edgerton Goblin Orchestra",
"Oh not again" chirped Lynn, halting in the doorway and staring at the wireless in horrified disbelief.
"Why do they keep playing that horrible noise" she protested, wrinkling up her nose in disgust.
"It's something to do with expanding our culture limitations" replied Isabella, her head still buried in her books. "Some professor for Goblin rights has been campaigning about it for months".
Annie glanced up as she swatted again at another, particularly pesky gnome.
"Isabella" she called softly,
"Sweetie, how many times have I told not to let that cat of yours get on your father's chair. You know he's allergic to cat hair".
Annie tried to say more, but the sound of her voice was suddenly drowned out by the din of rusty nails being played across broken saws, as the Greater Edgerton Goblin Orchestra began its terrible tune. Despite being shriller than a dozen whaling banshees with toothache, the Goblin music had a meticulous timing and rhythm, which made the awful din almost bearable. Yet Annie Dobson's children seemed suitably less impressed by efforts of, the finest Goblin orchestra in England. Lucy, grimacing, mimicked her sister, as Lyn held her hands to her ears, and the families youngest dog Knut, started to howl, surprisingly almost in tune to the Goblin Ballard. Mercifully for Annie, Isabella's cat, Prudeta, streaked from the room, startled by the loud wrenching and whaling of the Goblin band.
With a slight wince, at particularly piercing rusty saw solo, Annie flicked her wand and with a click, the wizard wireless switched to another channel, where a haughty sounding witch was reading the mornings news. Recent, Annie found she could only bring herself to half listen, to the haughty witches droning news reports. Almost every item these days seemed to be bad news, and given recent events, Annie felt like the last thing she wanted to hear was more bad news.
As she half listened as the old witch droned on about the Brockdale bridge collapse, the Azkaban break out and the Ministry of Magic break-in.
"And in more local news" added the haughty witch, in her high authorative tone,
"Local wizard Nigellus Tyler…"
Crack!
Annie turned sharply. Momentarily startled by the sound of something in the nearby hedge, and started to fumble for her wand as she gazed intently at the thick rustling hedge.
"Oi! Watch were your sticking that fing", came a voice, "That branch nearly went right up my…"
Snap!
The hedge suddenly parted, and Annie heaved a sigh of relief, as a small group of large ferret like creatures, which she knew to be Jarveys, came tumbling out from the bushy hedge.
As they struggled to their feet, de-tangling themselves from each other, and stray branches, Annie could see that two of the ferret like Jarveys looked perfectly normal, yet the third was anything but. He was almost twice the size of the others and walked, or rather swaggered, on his rear legs. Bizarrely, he was dressed almost like a Muggle, sporting a pair of sturdy trousers, with bracers, a pristine waste coat, and a neat little bowler hat, which had several gurdy roots tucked into the band.
"Ah, Mornin Mrs. D" announced the Jarvey, tipping his bowler hat, with a courteous little bow.
"Jarvis, your timing's perfect" sighed Annie.
"I don't know where these Gnomes keep coming from, but there ruining my herbs and causing no end of damage to my fire roses and silver bells" she gestured to a large flower bed at the top of the garden, where the red petals of the tall roses glowed like the embers of a dying fire, whilst below fairies flittered around tiny silver tube flowers, which gave off a gentle ringing noise as the swung in the breeze.
"Don't you worry Mrs. D" Drawled the oddly dressed Jarvey, "I'll have a couple of the boys come over and root dem Gnomes out for ya dis afternoon" he added, as he attempted to adjust his oversized trousers. "We'll have you Gnome free again in no time".
"Thanks Jarvis" sighed a clearly relieved Annie, "You're a life saver. I really don't have time to do it myself today. I desperately need to go to the market today. I'm almost out of stock and I need to get something for my mother", as she finished speaking, her voice seemed to tail off, and a saddened expression started to steal over her face. She turned her head slightly and her eyes seemed to glaze over sadly, a slight breeze tugged lightly at her velvety robes, and for a moment it looked as she might be holding back a tear.
"Oh yes" she added quietly, seeming to rouse from her thoughts, "This is yours", she reached inside her robes and pulled out a small smooth skin pouch and handed it to Jarvis, who with a toothy grin pried the bag open with his tiny paws,
"Oh Merlin's charms be upon ya Mrs.D" he coed, "Prompt payment as ever, and I see you've put a little something extra in for me and the boys". He beamed up at Anne, his broad ferret like grin spreading, almost from ear to ear. "You do take such good care of us Mrs.D".
"It's nothing really" replied Annie quietly, smiling faintly.
"Well" replied Jarvis, "Don't you worry about dem dere flower beds. Me and the boys will have you Gnome free before your home from market Mrs.D". He swung the pouch over his back, like a tiny rucksack, and tipped his had graciously as he prepared to depart.
"Mummy," Annie glanced down to see Lynn tugging at her velvety robes, her toddling younger sister Lucy clinging to her arm for support as she gaze doe-eyed up at her.
"Yes, my darling," replied Annie brushing a hand lovingly against the pairs cheeks.
"Did you say you're going to the market today mummy?" enquired Lynn with an agitated look,
"Yes I'm afraid I have to my darling. I'm almost out of certain potion ingredients, and I need to get something for your Nana," Lynn frowned and even the toddling Lucy, looked a little concerned.
"Were not staying at auntie Rosaline's are we?" asked Lynn wistfully, "Only Lizzy likes her, me and Lu think she shouts too much," added Lynn matter-of-factly.
"No my darling, after what happened…" Annie's voice trailed off momentarily, "I mean, your Nana is very busy right now, so auntie Rosaline and I have to do what we can to help her. You'll be staying with Grandma today." The wistful expression on Lynn's face was gone in an instant, replace by a broad grinning smile, which was mirrored by Lucy, who gave a gurgling giggle of approval. Although considered as something of an outsider by most, Roderek's mother, a thoroughly pleasant and smiley old woman, was considered one of the finest potioneers in the Vale, it was however her hobby of sweet making particularly tasty sweets and buns however, which made her such a firm favorite of her grandchildren.
"As a matter of fact," continued Annie, "we'd best start getting ready to go. We've got a busy day ahead of us. Oh and Lynn," added Annie hastily, "please try not to trouble your Grandmother too much, she's very busy making potions for the Harpers at the moment."
"Okie dokie mummy," replied Lynn, who clearly wasn't paying much attention,
"Come on LuLu," she giggled, bundling her younger sister into the house "were going to see Grandma,"
Annie paused as she followed her children into the house, the large patio doors still slightly ajar in her hands, as she gazed out into the garden. Despite the glow of the growing sun marking the first fine day of weather in weeks, she couldn't help but feel uneasy, as if she were being watched. Annie shrugged casting the feelings aside, the weeks of bad news and ill weather were clearly making her paranoid.
High up, in the tall tree at the end of the garden the lone black crow silently watched as Annie close the patio doors, its dark beady eyes following every flicker of movement of the people in the house below.
11