The Houses Competition
Ravenclaw
Charms
Drabble
[Emotion] Resentment
999 words (Google Docs)
AN Epilogue, What Epilogue?
There wasn't much use for orphanages in the Magical world. Pureblood and even Half-blood children would usually find themselves taken in by kin before being allowed in such a place. There were always exceptions, however, and Marabel Margot had the dubious honor of running the Bailey Institute for Abandoned Squibs, also known as BIAS.
Funding for BIAS was limited, and more often than not, much of Marabel's own salary went into keeping the young ones fed and a roof over their heads.
Balancing the accounts was just what Marabel was working on when the letter came.
"Ms Margot, there's an owl for you," Sally Hensworth, a teen almost at her majority, called as she carried in an owl. In other circumstances, Sally would have had a bright future ahead of her; being a ward of BIAS meant all Marabel could offer her was strategy in stretching coin.
The letter answered the question of how they'd make it through another month; a number of young lords and ladies just entering their own were interested in visiting BIAS as a publicity stunt and would oh so kindly offer a modest sum for the privilege.
Marabel was well used to such dog-and-pony shows and resented the need to go through them. Alas, the property on which BIAS was located was expensive, and being able to pay the rent whilst feeding and educating the nearly three dozen youths in her care required such activities from time to time.
"At least the little ones will enjoy the attention," Sally suggested hopefully.
It was never that simple though. Preparation for such events was almost more effort than they were worth since the elite could not be expected to eat the same foods as commoners. Further, making the creaky old house that lacked in the most basic of magical commodities palatable for such spoilt individuals was never an easy task.
With the aid of the eldest wards, Marabel managed to finish everything before the event, to the excitement of the younger children, many of whom dreamed of relatives bringing them back home.
That was why Marabel hated these events. The hopes of children were crushed in order to make the elite happy. Resentment was too weak a word.
As expected, many of the lords and ladies who visited the next day were too busy making an impression for the paparazzi following them about to pay much attention to disowned relatives.
Nonetheless, they definitely had time to sneer at the second and third-hand materials that were a staple of the home. Only one lord seemed to have the necessary restraint to keep his mouth mostly shut: Lord Longbottom.
He did ask a number of probing questions about the finances of the place, however.
"While I certainly appreciate the meal you've provided us, it seems somewhat at odds with the usual fare here. I hope our coming isn't too much of a burden," he commented during the luncheon.
While it was better than the complaints made by his social peers, the faux concern just fed Marabel's bitterness, and it was all she could do to respond with a mostly civil, "We make it work. I'm certain that whatever generosity my lords and ladies choose to bestow will be more than sufficient."
While the others sneered at the lack of magic found in the well-loved toys about the place, Longbottom took the time to ask the children about their favorites. It was quite baffling to the woman who'd cared for the place through two wars. By the time the visitors left, it was almost a relief to go back to the traditional duties that came from the position.
As expected, the donations weren't much, but they were sufficient to keep BIAS running for another month.
Knock, Knock.
The next day, Marabel opened the door to find… Longbottom.
"I noticed your yard could use some tending. Herbology's a hobby of mine. With your permission?" the young lord trailed off, holding some gardening shears in one hand while a Muggle-style mower rested innocently against the wall.
Marabel just hummed. Sometimes, guests would make a point of visiting, no doubt for the high of helping the less fortunate. "Do as you like. Don't expect fine dining during luncheon, however," she huffed. Such help never lasted long, and experience had taught her better than to believe this time would be different.
As the days continued, however, Longbottom became a familiar presence. When he wasn't teaching the children about herbology, he came bearing surprisingly thoughtful gifts. Not once did he make the mistake most made, bringing toys that only some of the children could utilize due to their weak magic. No, most of what he brought was Muggle in origin, and from what Marabel could gather, he generally left his wand at home. During months when the accounts just wouldn't balance, she noted that anonymous donations were made as well. Slowly, Marabel came to feel a grudging respect for the young man though she never allowed her outward countenance to show more than tolerance colored by her characteristic resentment.
She was glad for her restraint when, six months after he started coming, Longbottom's visits ceased without a word of warning. The children were distraught, of course, but the charges of BIAS were notorious for bouncing back from disappointment. They'd make it through this.
Two months later, Marabel received an owl requesting her presence at Gringotts.
"He what?"
"Lord Neville Longbottom died from a rare ailment that takes away its victim's ability to do magic. Most of those he considered close friends died or moved on after the war, but your facility made a strong impression on him. Being without heirs, Longbottom has willed the majority of his assets to you."
"BIAS is more than just me," she stuttered, shocked.
"Per Lord Longbottom's observations, you are its heart," the goblin stated. "Sign here."
While moving everyone into Longbottom Manor, Marabel couldn't help but wish she'd shown more than disdain to the man who changed everything.