Disclaimer: JK Rowling presented seven years of a school which was supposed to have existed for centuries. Hogwarts 1835 had little from canon besides location. Hogwarts 1940 could serve as a prequel to the canon books. This sequel to 1835 has little from canon but a few family names and a location or two, but those are from Rowling. Similarities to any person, living are dead, with the characters in this story is an amazing coincidence.

My parameters for what constitutes canon are defined at the end of chapter one.

Chapter 7 – Twelfth Night

Vivien spent extra time before going down to breakfast the next morning with cosmetics and appearance charms, feeling it was important to be viewed by her future tenants in the best possible light. Her efforts failed to impress Mr. Malfoy, however, who felt it confirmed his opinion that the blond witch was more concerned with her beauty than matters of substance.

Mr. Malfoy's horse was saddled and the dogcart ready when the two went out to the stable.

Clarence took off his cap in his master's presence, "Beggin' yer pardon, m'lord, but the other young lady?"

"I don't know how long Miss Kelly might stay with Mrs. March. What were you told yesterday?"

"Nothin'... Just take out the gig... And take care o' that lathered up horse."

"Three of Mrs. March's horses have taken ill and Miss Kelly will attempt to nurse them back to health. It might be several days before she is able to return. Mrs. March's servant will probably return there today."

"Thank you, m'lord." The news of Kitty's ability with equine medicine served to further aggravate Clarence's jealous hatred toward the young woman.

As they rode toward the cottage of the estate manager Vivien managed a cheery, "It is a beautiful day!"

Mr. Malfoy found her presence more than a little grating, but if she were to be with him for most of the day he knew he should keep up the appearance of civility. "Yes," he agreed. "Are you comfortable with the reins?"

"Slightly terrified," she admitted.

"If you prefer we can return to the Manor. I can conduct my business later."

"No. I need practice, and I am curious about..." She fell silent.

"Curious about?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"The, ah, estate. Seeing the estate."

"That sounds like a very poor lie."

"It was the best I could do on the spur of the moment."

"Does it have anything to do with your quest to become mistress of this estate?"

"No," she answered truthfully.

"Well, what is it then?"

"I would rather not say."

"Which, of course, makes me all the more curious. It was apparently something for which you hoped to find an answer while accompanying me this morning, which means it probably it relates to me."

"You are very discerning."

"Now, pray, are you hoping to find some Achilles heel by which you might attack me?"

"Not at all," she blushed. "The amount of time... You seem so busy with..."

"Ah, Claudius feels I spend too much time on work that would be better done by a steward."

"You are out almost every day."

The master of the estate sighed. "My grandfather and father were quite set in their ways and had no desire to change with the times. They found stewards who were compliant with their wishes, and the tenants found it easier to keep their traditional methods than risk the wrath of the landlord. This was probably the last land in Britain to be enclosed and is a century behind the rest of the nation in productivity. My steward, Frederick Trotter, is an extremely capable man. But even the most capable estate manager in the world lacks the authority of the landlord. My tenants resented the changes at first – some of them still do – but many of them are starting to see the benefits of change. The more they come to see the advantages for themselves the less work there is for me to do. Claudius has spent much of his time at Hogwarts these last seven years. He doesn't realize how much time is required for the task. In a few years I may be able to leave everything in Mr. Trotter's hands. I am doing less now, whether Claudius comprehends that or not."

"You could bring in new tenants, that might make the changes go more quickly."

"I will not. Some of these families have worked this land for generations and I won't throw anyone off without good reason."

"Well then, it is important that his wife have an understanding of what is necessary on the estate."

"Miss Kestrel, I tire of reminding you that you will not marry my son."

"Then you should consider dropping the matter."

He said no more on the way to his steward's cottage. A couple miles from the Hall a man waited on horseback outside a substantial stone home with a thatched roof. The stranger touched his hat in respect as the two rode up.

"Miss Kestrel, this is Frederick Trotter, my steward. Mr. Trotter, Miss Kestrel. Miss Kestrel is a distant relative visiting the Hall. She is from the City and thought she might enjoy seeing some of the farms."

"It'll be a quiet day. Think most of the tenants to the north are doing well. Not sure you need to visit them."

"I would have been willing to stay home, but Reverend Henley asked me to look in on the Throutons – although he was vague on why he made his request."

The steward shook his head sadly, "There's a family what's not doing well."

Miss Kestrel first impression of Mr. Trotter was a hard man, his hands were stained with dirt too deeply imbedded to be washed out and his clothes were suitable to climbing into a ditch and helping right an over-turned wagon. As they rode north, she listened to him converse with Mr. Malfoy and realized she probably didn't understand half of what he was saying. Her host, however, listened attentively and asked questions which showed he understood what was being said and the implications of the discussion. Vivien revised her estimation of Mr. Trotter somewhat, he appeared to be as capable of working with his mind as he was with working with his body. She ventured a couple timid questions when she felt especially lost in the discussion and he answered with patience and clarity.

At the first stop that morning Mr. Malfoy and his steward asked the tenant about sugar beets. He answered with pride they were developing nicely and invited the men to see their progress. The two dismounted and invited Vivien to join them, but she looked at the dirt path to the field and declined.

While she waited in the cart a small girl came over and stared at her. Miss Kestrel smiled at the child, which encouraged her to timidly ask, "Help me gather eggs?"

"Hush, Bessie," her mother called, "leave the lady alone."

Vivien, not knowing how long the men might be, desired something to do other than sitting in the cart. "I've never gathered eggs before," she admitted to the girl, "can you show me how it's done?"

The girl smiled and nodded.

"No need for that," the mother explained, coming over to remove the child.

"No. I'm from the city. If Bessie could show me how it is done I'd like to help her."

The little girl appeared to be in a state of rapture as she led the young woman around the yard and explained the search. When the men returned from their examination of the crop the girl was seated by Vivien on the dog cart, telling her about life on the farm. Bessie was disappointed to hear that Miss Kestrel had to leave. "Please come back," she pleaded.

"I am a guest at the home of Mr. Malfoy," she explained. "I will probably not be out again." The little girl looked so unhappy Vivien promised, "But if he tells me he will be at your home again I will ask to accompany him."

The child gave her an impulsive hug to the amusement of the men and the horror of the girl's mother, "Bessie! You'll get her dirty."

At the second farm a tenant had accused his neighbor of stealing chickens. Vivien joined the search which circled the farm in search of clues. When Mr. Trotter called everyone over to show them fox tracks and blood Vivien could see the blood, but what the others saw as fox tracks appeared meaningless to her.

"Set a snare," Mr. Malfoy advised his steward.

On the third farm Miss Kestrel watched three children playing a noisy game she guessed was some sort of tag as Mr. Trotter and Mr. Malfoy inspected another field. She shouted encouragement at the youngest boy, who had some trouble keeping up with his older and larger siblings.

The men appeared to enjoy a noontime meal in the public house of a small village, or at least they partook of it more readily than Miss Kestrel, who was accustomed to better fare. She poked at the bangers on the greasy plate set in front of her, ate little and drank nothing.

"You will insult the publican if you eat nothing," Mr. Malfoy teased.

"I will insult my stomach if I do," she answered.

At the end of the meal Mr. Trotter sighed, "Time to call on the Throutons."

"Reverend Henley would not explain his concerns for fear it might prejudice my opinion," Mr. Malfoy said as they rode toward the farm, "but I don't wish to begin in complete ignorance. What can you tell me of their situation?"

"I believe he drinks more than he ought, and the habit shows itself in his tillage and treatment of his family."

"Sounds like reason enough for Reverend Henley's concern. I don't suppose you have any suggestions for dealing with the situation, since I can think of nothing."

"I fear I cannot help you. I pray you can think of something to improve the situation. There are several tenants too regular in their devotion to Saint Monday, but his problems extend throughout the week."

On her visit to the first farm that morning Vivien had initially thought the family very poor. As she had helped Bessie gather eggs her perception had altered. Walking through the city she could see hundreds of the destitute – without enough to eat, proper clothing, or a place to stay. The farm was distant from the advantageous of the City, but the little girl was happy and healthy. The air was clear. Her clothing was practical and clean. The cottage, if small, was strongly built and in good repair. The visits to the next two farms had reinforced her new view. The Throuton farm was obviously different. Miss Kestrel glanced at Mr. Malfoy and saw his jaw tighten at the sight of the woman in ragged clothing in the small garden plot outside the home.

He glanced at Vivien. She thought he was going to say something, but he remained silent.

At the earlier farms the arrival of the steward had been expected and the men had waited for the visit. "What field is your husband in?" Mr. Trotter called as they rode up."

"He's… He's in the house," the woman stammered.

"Mr. Malfoy and I were nearby and thought we'd see how the crops were doing. May we speak with him?"

The woman hesitated and Vivien thought she saw a look of fear in her eyes, but the fear was not great enough to contradict the wishes of the landlord. "Dickie," she called, "Dickie!" A young boy in ragged clothing, with stick-thin limbs and visible bruises, peered around the corner of the cottage, where he had hidden with his sister at the approach of the strangers. "Wake up your father."

"Ma!"

"Please. Tell him Mr. Malfoy is outside."

The boy left the door open, in hopes of a speedy exit. The three visitors heard loud cursing from inside the house, and Vivien winced at a sound which sounded like a blow, which was followed by a child's scream. A few minutes later a bleary-eyed man staggered out of the house. "Sorry," he apologized as he tried to stuff the tails of his dirty shirt into his trousers, "not expectin' nuthin'."

"We were in the vicinity inspecting farms," Mr. Trotter told him. "May we see your fields?"

Like his wife a moment earlier he appeared to want to say no to a request, but like his wife he could not say no to the landowner.

Vivien decided that Mr. Malfoy had been going to ask her to speak with the wife, but that he had either come to the conclusion that the problem was obvious, and therefore conversation would be superfluous, or, that as a guest it was not her place to interfere. Vivien, however, decided to proceed as if he had trusted her to act independently and speak with the wife and children.

The wife apparently did not wish to speak with Vivien. She called, "Dickie!" and the child emerged from the house, crying and rubbing his left arm.

The woman went to comfort her child as Vivien climbed down from the cart.

"May I see boy?" the blond witch asked.

The woman looked at her, uncertain what to say, as Vivien came close and murmured what might have sounded like vague words of comfort as she gently stroked the boy's arm. The words were actually a healing charm and his tears stopped. "It don't hurt no more, Ma."

The mother hugged the child briefly, "Go watch your sister."

"Would you introduce me to your sister?" Miss Kestrel asked the boy.

He looked to his mother. Vivien saw many levels of terror in the woman's eyes and guessed that part of it was fear of being evicted from the land. Unable to refuse any request of the young woman who travelled with the landlord the woman nodded to her son.

The children were showing Vivien two rows of potatoes they were responsible for when the men returned. None of the three looked happy. Vivien only caught a few of Mr. Trotter's words, but the tone sounded threatening, "... overgrown ... back in a week..."

"We're leaving," Mr. Malfoy told Vivien curtly. She guessed the anger in his voice had nothing to do with her, but moved quickly the cart, passing closely by the husband as she did so.

The visit to the Throuton farm left all the visitors frustrated. The ride home, at least as far as Mr. Trotter's home, was entirely silent. When his steward left Mr. Malfoy rode beside the cart and tried to find a topic of conversation.

"I was surprised by how easily you played with the children."

"I think... Perhaps it is because I'm an only child. The accident that killed my father happened when I was very young. I always envied my friends with siblings. Miss Gray had two brothers and a sister. I love children."

Mr. Malfoy smiled somewhat sadly, "Being an only child does not seem to have given Claudius any fondness for children."

"I've wondered why... I'm sorry. That is not my concern."

"Emma and I wanted children," he said sadly. "She was never able to carry another baby to term."

Uncertain how to respond Vivien simply said, "I'm sorry."

"So, Claudius was the sun my wife and I revolved around. Perhaps we spoiled him and he wanted no other children to take attention from himself, but he has never shown interest in the children of others."

Vivien shrugged slightly, "We are all different. Some of my friends with siblings expressed sympathy for me, others said they envied me for having my mother's undivided attention."

"I feel sorry for the Throuton children. Like Reverend Henley I wish I had a solution."

"I placed an ulcisci charm on him before we left."

"You what?" Mr. Malfoy demanded in an angry voice.

"An ulcisci charm. I–"

"You placed a charm on one of my muggle tenants?"

"I just said I did."

"How dare you! The Malfoy family has an evil reputation in this region we have been trying to live down, and you bewitched a muggle."

"He deserved it!"

"He deserved to be horse-whipped and dragged behind a wagon, but that is my opinion. There is no court in the land which would convict him for his behavior."

"So, you would do nothing?" Vivien retorted hotly.

"I will not play God," he answered. "I can legally refuse to rent to him – which will deprive his wife and children of the little they have - a roof over their heads and food to eat.

"What is the good of being a wizard if you do nothing with it?"

"I use it for myself. It is not my duty to travel through the countryside, righting wrongs as if I were some sort of magical Robin Hood."

"You want your tenants to prosper, I can see that."

"They prosper by their own toil. I do not use magic."

"Well you should!"

"Listen to yourself! That is the utterance of a dark wizard – believing it is your duty to rule over muggles."

"I don't want to rule over anyone. The man abuses his own wife and children! You can stand by and do nothing?"

"And what, legally, may I do?"

"You could… What does legal have to do with it?"

"First you want me to act a dark wizard and now you urge me to ignore the law?"

"I… There must be something you could do."

"I wish there were," he admitted. "But using magic on muggles, even when well-intentioned, will end up creating more problems than it solves. Some of my ancestors faced accusations of witchcraft. I do not want such tales being spread about me."

On their return to the manor Gordon informed them that Matthias had returned from the March estate, and left again. Mr. Prewett had instructed Gordon to mention a letter from Mrs. March, left in the library. Vivien went upstairs to freshen her appearance and Mr. Malfoy went to the library. Before opening the note, however, he went over to a bookshelf and searched among the titles for a large tome. Pulling it down he flipped towards the end of volume and found the information he sought.

"The ulcisci charm can only be performed by a wizard or witch especially skilled at charms. Properly used the spell causes whatever the one who has been charmed attempts to do to another to fall upon his own head. That is to say, should a man who under the charm attempt to strike another with a switch, the force of the blow will be felt by the one holding the switch and not the man who is struck." The book continued with how to cast the charm, how to break the charm, and limits on its power and duration. Mr. Malfoy frowned, well cast the charm might last for a week before wearing off. He considered asking Miss Kestrel to remove the charm, but part of him agreed with Miss Kestrel it seemed appropriate. When he visited the Throutons again in a week he would need to adjust their memories.

"What are you reading," Miss Kestrel asked when she entered the library.

He hurriedly shut the book and returned it to the shelf, "Seeking an answer to a question which arose today while visiting a tenant. Actually more than one question arose – do you still feel my attention to my estate is intrusive?"

Vivien hesitated, "My experience is limited, but I believe you act as a landlord concerned for the well-being of his tenants."

"Thank you. And do you understand it is inappropriate to use magic on muggles, no matter how well intended?"

"No, I don't accept that. Oh, I accept it should not be done as a regular practice, but on occasion it can be entirely appropriate."

"You will not put another charm on a tenant," he told her firmly.

She ignored his order, "What news did Mr. Prewett bring about Kitty?"

Mr. Malfoy broke the seal on the note and read:

Dear Titus,
Miss Kelly is a gem. She gave my horses some
draught which has allowed them to rest. The
three had been in the same pasture and she is
convinced they ate something they should have
avoided. She plans to scour the field and find
the source of the problem. The weakest of the
three horses will need a couple days of care
and I've asked her to remain here. Your
secretary promised to pack a few items and
return with them. (It appears you are short of
household servants if you must send your
secretary on such errands. Some of my servants
have relatives they swear are very trustworthy
if you would like a recommendation.)
Should she truly prove as capable as she
claims, and thus far the evidence suggests she
is, I want to keep her in the neighborhood. Tell
me the dowry you expect for your whelp and
I'll pay it so she can wed Claudius.
She's a Godsend. Thank you for inviting her,
April

"Mrs March is quite taken with Miss Kelly's abilities," Mr. Malfoy told Vivien.

"If it has to do with livestock I'm not surprised."

"You might be amused by her plans for your friend," he said, and handed her the note to read.

She flushed briefly with anger as she read the note, but realized the offer could not be serious. She returned the note and tried to take an amused tone, "Have you set a price for your son's happiness?"

"I would not consider a dowry as a purchase of happiness."

"One hopes it is not a purchase of sorrow."

He actually smiled at her answer. "I believe Claudius should be allowed to make his own choice in the matter."

"I believe that Claudius has no desire to choose a wife, and that as his father the choice of the most suitable partner will fall on you."

Having spent the day by himself, or rather without parental supervision, Claudius seemed in unusually good humor that evening at dinner. With his sarcastic mood gone, at least for the moment, Vivien ventured to ask him about the skull. "He's quite put out with you," Claudius chuckled, "felt insulted by the charms you used on him."

"Well, he could have answered civil questions," Miss Kestrel sniffed, "and then we wouldn't have resorted to charms."

"He is a very private person."

"He is hardly a person," Vivien retorted.

"There is an interesting question for discussion," Mr. Malfoy commented with a smile, "is a physical body a necessity to be considered a person? We don't question the right of the ghosts at Hogwarts to be called persons, but they are even less corporeal than Yorick."

"But they at least have bodies," the witch argued.

"A body is a prerequisite?" Mr. Malfoy asked.

"I would think so," Vivien answered, hesitating slightly because she sensed a trap.

"So the men who lost limbs in the war against the Emperor..."

"Point to father," Claudius laughed. He turned to his father, "You could have been in Ravenclaw."

Changing the subject slightly Mr. Malfoy asked his son, "Where is the skull Matthias calls Yorick now?"

"I've set his stand on a table by a window. He appreciates seeing the world."

"I offered to move him upstairs, but he rejected the suggestion."

"Despite being dead he has a great deal of pride. I think he resents being considered part of a collection and feared you would have in on display as some sort of trophy."

"My only concern was his comfort."

"I believe you, but having decided that the house of Malfoy was the source of all evil in the world it is difficult for him to accept your proposal. He would think you won in some manner should he agree with you."

"What puzzles me," Vivien commented, "is why, if he hates Malfoys the way he claims, does he consider you a friend? You said you found him in the dungeon when you were a boy?"

"Oh, I dare say he has his vanity as well as his pride. It gratified him to be the focus of attention, even from a child. Pride and vanity... I wonder if, rather than being some old enemy of the family he might be an ancestor."

"That hardly seems possible, given his hatred for the Malfoys... Other than you, of course," Vivien pointed out.

"Oh, it is certainly possible to hate one's own family." Mr. Malfoy told her. "Perhaps his condition was brought on by something in the dark arts collection."

Claudius seemed to take the comment of his father as something of a personal insult. "I do not hate my family," he retorted. "I do not want the responsibilities incumbent on the land and title. I don't want to bring shame on the name, I simply don't want the damn responsibility!"

Miss Kestrel realized this represented some sort of long-standing argument between father and son and desperately thought for something to say which might defuse the tension. Her host, however, refused to engage in argument, "You misunderstand. I am speaking only of Yorick. If, as you say, he enjoys being able to look out at the world I will repeat my offer to move him to the library or some other location in the house."

Claudius had regained some of his composure. "Sorry. I will ask. I fear he will either see the offer as an expression of pity which he will resent, or an admission of surrender should he accept."

"Well, you're clever enough for Ravenclaw yourself. Find some way to make him think he has tricked me into giving him a more interesting location."

Later in the meal Claudius asked Vivien her opinion on spending a day with his father.

"I enjoyed it!" the pretty witch answered enthusiastically. "And I'm driving the cart much better!" She turned to her host, "Wasn't I much better coming back?"

"She was," Mr. Malfoy confirmed.

Claudius rolled his eyes, "City girl. It was new and exciting. I dare say it would become tiresome for her quickly enough. Are you going out again tomorrow?" he asked his father.

"I don't really need to–" he began.

"I don't mind," Miss Kestrel interrupted.

Titus sighed, "She put a charm on a tenant today."

Claudius, who had been taking a drink, nearly choked. "She what?"

"He deserved it," Vivien insisted, "he's abusing his wife and children."

"It's a muggle affair. Let them take care of it themselves."

"How?"

Mr. Malfoy spoke, "It doesn't matter. It's not our concern."

"I..." Claudius turned to his father. "You've already told her this, haven't you?" Mr. Malfoy nodded. "Then I'll not waste my time."

"I'll adjust his memory as necessary when it wears off," Titus assured his son.

"Are we going out again tomorrow?" Vivien asked. "I quite enjoyed the day."

"We will not go... Only if you give your word of honor that you will not place any kind of charm on any muggle."

"Except in self-defense," Claudius added.

"That is not likely to happen with me and Mr. Trotter there. And Miss Kestrel strikes me as the kind of person who might turn someone into a frog and claim it was self-defense."

"Oh, that's not likely to happen," Claudius yawned.

"You trust her?"

"Not a whit, but she was never very good with transfigurations. Lizzy, on the other hand, could produce an exceptionally fine frog."

Before turning in that evening Vivien went to the kitchen. She had not enjoyed the rough luncheon that day and asked the house elves to prepare something for her in the morning, then modified her request to a hamper with food for three.

Vivien arose somewhat earlier than usual the next morning, thinking it would be a fine surprise if she could smuggle the hamper out to the stable without Mr. Malfoy being aware of her plan. Her machinations meant there was less time for makeup, but she had come to realize she had spent more time yesterday than was necessary for the work of the day.


Enclosure took two forms. Both were disruptive to the small farmers and open field system of agriculture which had dominated the countryside for centuries. One enclosure simply saw the tenants driven off the land, sometimes by force, with the land being used to raise sheep (there was a lot of profit in wool). The second form saw the open fields broken into small plots, bounded by hedge, with the plots being rented out. The end of common land brought hardship to some tenants, but the freedom to experiment with crops, fertilization, and agricultural methods eventually raised farm productivity.

A profitable strain of sugar beets had been grown since the 18th century in Prussia. After the Napoleonic wars France developed its own sugar beet industry and became the world's largest producer in the 1830s. Laws theoretically intended to protect British agriculture in the early 19th century actually created problems for the whole economy (so Mr. Malfoy should probably not lay the entire blame on his father and grandfather for the estate's problem) but began to improve slightly by the late 1830s.

The rites of Saint Monday are often associated with the Industrial Revolution, but references to absenteeism on the first day of the work week occur in 18th century writers. (If you don't 'get it'... The rites of Saint Monday were getting so drunk on your day off work (Sunday) you were too hungover for work on Monday.)

In 1753 Sir William Blackstone's wrote his famous explanation of the legal status of a married couple: "In law, husband and wife are one person, and that person is the husband." He also claimed such subordination was for the woman's own good. Divorce was not allowed in England for a long period up until 1857 and the passage of the Matrimonial Causes Act. (Well, if you had a lot of money and friends in Parliament divorce was possible - a lot of things are possible with money. It was impossible for an average person to obtain a divorce.) Unhappy husbands without funds and connections sometimes resorted to selling their wives (see The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy).

The first case study of the Rh factor appeared in 1939. Prior to modern treatments it was often possible for an Rh- woman with an Rh+ husband to have one healthy child, but not a second. It is suspected this might have been a factor in the many miscarriages of Queen Anne.