"Actually," Micah said, taking a swig from his cider, "I think there may be
something we can do for you."
"Really?" Severus leaned forward and took a relieved swig of his own cider. He hated to think that his only plan would be shot down so early. Merlin's ghost, someone must be looking out for him in, what did the muggles call it? Ah yes. Someone must be looking out for him in Heaven.
"There was a grant from the crown to all minor villages just last month. We received a rather large amount ourselves. That old farm, how long has it been standing?"
"I don't really know, to be honest. I have heard them talking about a great grandfather living there, but no one has ever said who built the place. Or when."
"Well, find out. This grant is to be given out, divided, among the historical landmarks in the village. If the farm qualifies, and I'm willing to bet that it does, I feel certain that I could loan Rhiannon whatever she needs to simply buy it from the landlord and be done with him."
"Phenomenal."
"Indeed. So my advice to you is to go up there and find out while I get the paperwork situated."
"On a Saturday morning?"
"Think nothing of it. Elizabeth knows that I must sometimes bring my work home with me. And after all, it is for an old friend."
"A friend of a friend, you mean."
"Any friend of yours, Severus, is a friend of mine."
"I wouldn't go that far, Micah."
Micah cast a confused and suspicious look at his old companion but shrugged it off as one of the odd things that Severus was sometimes wont to say.
"Anyway, I prefer not to tell her. I'd rather have the money donated anonymously, have it seem as if it were some freak happenstance, than give it to her myself."
"Afraid of her showing you some appreciative affection?"
"Shut it, Micah."
Micah held his hands up in defense. "All right. All right. Then my next suggestion is that you head on over to the public office and look up the records for yourself."
"I shall do that at once. Shall I meet you back here at, say, one o'clock?"
"A little sure of your research abilities, aren't you?"
"Please. I've been a professor and a top student for years now – over a decade. I think I shall be able to dig up a little information on a house."
"Right-o. One o'clock it is then. If everything works out and you find the information we need I think I shall be able to have the check ready by closing time."
"Excellent."
"Indeed."
The two shook hands, finished their cider, and went their separate ways. Micah went to his den to begin drawing up the paperwork and Severus, cap and jacket in hand as it was beginning to warm up, down to the public office that stood just beside the chemist's shop.
"Good afternoon," an old woman came hobbling out from behind a dusty desk that was covered with papers. It reminded him of his fifth year ancient runes professor. "What can I help you with?"
Severus raised his eyebrows quizzically, wondering if this old woman would be able to help him with anything, and then remembered that wisdom is always found in the aging, and for this specific purpose maybe what he needed wasn't a list of facts on paper, but from the memory of a townsperson.
"I am looking for the complete historical record of the Moon farm."
"The Moon farm," the woman repeated, looking blankly into space and repeating the words over and over again under her breath. Severus sighed inwardly. Perhaps this wasn't the fountain of knowledge he had been hoping for. But just as quickly as his heart had sunk it leapt up again into his throat.
"Ah yes, the horse dealer's farm. Old Richard Moon was taught the business end of his practice by my own father. A Ferrier, he was. Worked in complete cooperation with the Moons until –"
"Yes, well, what I'm after is some information regarding who built the farm. And when."
"Looking to buy the place are you," the old woman turned and began to walk to an obscure corner of the office, gesturing with one gnarled finger for Severus to follow. He did.
"Well, in a sense, I suppose. Looking to invest in it, more like."
"Invest. That place has gone under son, haven't you heard? Old Sybil Moon spent up the last of the family fortune a few days before she died. Made the same mistake as you, investing. Only she invested in a racehorse. Cost her and those poor children everything when it died two days before the race."
"I see."
"Here we are. Deeds and Titles. You should find what you're looking for somewhere here," she told him, holding out her arms to indicate a row of three bookshelves which were all as crammed full and cluttered as the woman's desk. Severus' heart again sank, but this time all the way to his toenails.
"Many thanks, miss."
The woman blushed and giggled lightly. "No one has called me miss in quite some time," she told him, batting her eyes up at him.
"Well, I can't see why. You are certainly the picture of youth and . . . virility." The words tasted bitter to him, but they had to be said if the plan that was hatching in his brain was to work.
"Oh," she gasped and waved him off with one hand. "You must be blind."
"Here. For your help. I noticed that a new fish and chips shop has been opened just round the corner. Perhaps you'd like to –"but before he could finish she had snatched the paper money from his outstretched hand and was hobbling off, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, to the door.
"Haven't eaten since yesterday," she told him hurriedly, pulling the door open. "Just lock up if you leave before I come back."
Severus blinked. That was easy. Almost too easy. He wondered if he'd better tone himself down the next time he used his eyes to suggest an action to someone. He could have told that old woman that she wanted to jump off a bridge and she would have done it. Straightening himself up he turned and regarded the bookshelf with disgust. How could anyone allow a place such as this to become so cluttered?
Ah well. Time to get to work. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket he wrapped his hand around his wand. Funny how little time it took for it to feel cold and unfamiliar in his hand. Or maybe it just felt cold and unfamiliar to be using it any place other than the castle. Especially this place. He'd rarely used magic here at home before.
Pulling out the wand and glancing behind him just once more to ensure his privacy, he held his wand high and with the proper ratio of swish to flick he muttered the charm. Instantly, and with a rather pretty golden glow, the stacks of papers took on lives of their own, standing, dancing, moving themselves to where they were meant to be. He was surprised that it took a full two minutes. This place must really be more unorganized that he had suspected. When all movement on the bookshelf had ceased and the glow had gone he stepped forward and read the inscriptions of the shelves of the bookcase.
"Deeds," one said, and beside it all the way down the row was a list of names. He followed it to the M's, found Moon, and pulled out the stack of papers in its section. It was rather small. Taking the pages, he found a table with a candle upon it, lit the candle, and began to read. It didn't take him long at all. The house had been inherited by Richard Moon the Junior by Richard Moon the senior in 1882 at the age of twenty. Richard Moon the Senior had inherited the house from his father, Prestly Moon in 1837. And on and on the list went. Like that one passage in the bible that simply reads "and so and so begat so and so who begat so and so who begat so and so. . . "
The very first Moon to have inherited the place was a man by the name of Aric Moon in 1673. That seemed historical enough. However, he was a bit anal retentive and it seemed to him that the record should be complete. The place had been bought by Aric from a man by the name of Morothos MacMillan in that same year. Looking around him again to make sure the old woman hadn't hobbled back inside silently, Severus took out his wand again and duplicated every page he had read. Then he picked up the originals and replaced them in their rightful spot on the bookshelf. Moving up the row again he found the etching "MacMillan" a few names up and pulled out a single paper. He read it.
"I, Morothos, MacMillan, hereby bequeath the land and all that I have built upon it, to one Aric Moon. This includes all land up to and including the Eight Meter Stream, the Hollows, the Pond, the Farmhouse, the Barns and the Paddocks." That was it. It seems that Morothos MacMillan was either not from here, or not in the habit of making official business transactions. Nevertheless, Severus duplicated the page, replaced the original, grabbed up his copies and left the office, locking it with a locking charm on the way out.
"Really?" Severus leaned forward and took a relieved swig of his own cider. He hated to think that his only plan would be shot down so early. Merlin's ghost, someone must be looking out for him in, what did the muggles call it? Ah yes. Someone must be looking out for him in Heaven.
"There was a grant from the crown to all minor villages just last month. We received a rather large amount ourselves. That old farm, how long has it been standing?"
"I don't really know, to be honest. I have heard them talking about a great grandfather living there, but no one has ever said who built the place. Or when."
"Well, find out. This grant is to be given out, divided, among the historical landmarks in the village. If the farm qualifies, and I'm willing to bet that it does, I feel certain that I could loan Rhiannon whatever she needs to simply buy it from the landlord and be done with him."
"Phenomenal."
"Indeed. So my advice to you is to go up there and find out while I get the paperwork situated."
"On a Saturday morning?"
"Think nothing of it. Elizabeth knows that I must sometimes bring my work home with me. And after all, it is for an old friend."
"A friend of a friend, you mean."
"Any friend of yours, Severus, is a friend of mine."
"I wouldn't go that far, Micah."
Micah cast a confused and suspicious look at his old companion but shrugged it off as one of the odd things that Severus was sometimes wont to say.
"Anyway, I prefer not to tell her. I'd rather have the money donated anonymously, have it seem as if it were some freak happenstance, than give it to her myself."
"Afraid of her showing you some appreciative affection?"
"Shut it, Micah."
Micah held his hands up in defense. "All right. All right. Then my next suggestion is that you head on over to the public office and look up the records for yourself."
"I shall do that at once. Shall I meet you back here at, say, one o'clock?"
"A little sure of your research abilities, aren't you?"
"Please. I've been a professor and a top student for years now – over a decade. I think I shall be able to dig up a little information on a house."
"Right-o. One o'clock it is then. If everything works out and you find the information we need I think I shall be able to have the check ready by closing time."
"Excellent."
"Indeed."
The two shook hands, finished their cider, and went their separate ways. Micah went to his den to begin drawing up the paperwork and Severus, cap and jacket in hand as it was beginning to warm up, down to the public office that stood just beside the chemist's shop.
"Good afternoon," an old woman came hobbling out from behind a dusty desk that was covered with papers. It reminded him of his fifth year ancient runes professor. "What can I help you with?"
Severus raised his eyebrows quizzically, wondering if this old woman would be able to help him with anything, and then remembered that wisdom is always found in the aging, and for this specific purpose maybe what he needed wasn't a list of facts on paper, but from the memory of a townsperson.
"I am looking for the complete historical record of the Moon farm."
"The Moon farm," the woman repeated, looking blankly into space and repeating the words over and over again under her breath. Severus sighed inwardly. Perhaps this wasn't the fountain of knowledge he had been hoping for. But just as quickly as his heart had sunk it leapt up again into his throat.
"Ah yes, the horse dealer's farm. Old Richard Moon was taught the business end of his practice by my own father. A Ferrier, he was. Worked in complete cooperation with the Moons until –"
"Yes, well, what I'm after is some information regarding who built the farm. And when."
"Looking to buy the place are you," the old woman turned and began to walk to an obscure corner of the office, gesturing with one gnarled finger for Severus to follow. He did.
"Well, in a sense, I suppose. Looking to invest in it, more like."
"Invest. That place has gone under son, haven't you heard? Old Sybil Moon spent up the last of the family fortune a few days before she died. Made the same mistake as you, investing. Only she invested in a racehorse. Cost her and those poor children everything when it died two days before the race."
"I see."
"Here we are. Deeds and Titles. You should find what you're looking for somewhere here," she told him, holding out her arms to indicate a row of three bookshelves which were all as crammed full and cluttered as the woman's desk. Severus' heart again sank, but this time all the way to his toenails.
"Many thanks, miss."
The woman blushed and giggled lightly. "No one has called me miss in quite some time," she told him, batting her eyes up at him.
"Well, I can't see why. You are certainly the picture of youth and . . . virility." The words tasted bitter to him, but they had to be said if the plan that was hatching in his brain was to work.
"Oh," she gasped and waved him off with one hand. "You must be blind."
"Here. For your help. I noticed that a new fish and chips shop has been opened just round the corner. Perhaps you'd like to –"but before he could finish she had snatched the paper money from his outstretched hand and was hobbling off, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, to the door.
"Haven't eaten since yesterday," she told him hurriedly, pulling the door open. "Just lock up if you leave before I come back."
Severus blinked. That was easy. Almost too easy. He wondered if he'd better tone himself down the next time he used his eyes to suggest an action to someone. He could have told that old woman that she wanted to jump off a bridge and she would have done it. Straightening himself up he turned and regarded the bookshelf with disgust. How could anyone allow a place such as this to become so cluttered?
Ah well. Time to get to work. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket he wrapped his hand around his wand. Funny how little time it took for it to feel cold and unfamiliar in his hand. Or maybe it just felt cold and unfamiliar to be using it any place other than the castle. Especially this place. He'd rarely used magic here at home before.
Pulling out the wand and glancing behind him just once more to ensure his privacy, he held his wand high and with the proper ratio of swish to flick he muttered the charm. Instantly, and with a rather pretty golden glow, the stacks of papers took on lives of their own, standing, dancing, moving themselves to where they were meant to be. He was surprised that it took a full two minutes. This place must really be more unorganized that he had suspected. When all movement on the bookshelf had ceased and the glow had gone he stepped forward and read the inscriptions of the shelves of the bookcase.
"Deeds," one said, and beside it all the way down the row was a list of names. He followed it to the M's, found Moon, and pulled out the stack of papers in its section. It was rather small. Taking the pages, he found a table with a candle upon it, lit the candle, and began to read. It didn't take him long at all. The house had been inherited by Richard Moon the Junior by Richard Moon the senior in 1882 at the age of twenty. Richard Moon the Senior had inherited the house from his father, Prestly Moon in 1837. And on and on the list went. Like that one passage in the bible that simply reads "and so and so begat so and so who begat so and so who begat so and so. . . "
The very first Moon to have inherited the place was a man by the name of Aric Moon in 1673. That seemed historical enough. However, he was a bit anal retentive and it seemed to him that the record should be complete. The place had been bought by Aric from a man by the name of Morothos MacMillan in that same year. Looking around him again to make sure the old woman hadn't hobbled back inside silently, Severus took out his wand again and duplicated every page he had read. Then he picked up the originals and replaced them in their rightful spot on the bookshelf. Moving up the row again he found the etching "MacMillan" a few names up and pulled out a single paper. He read it.
"I, Morothos, MacMillan, hereby bequeath the land and all that I have built upon it, to one Aric Moon. This includes all land up to and including the Eight Meter Stream, the Hollows, the Pond, the Farmhouse, the Barns and the Paddocks." That was it. It seems that Morothos MacMillan was either not from here, or not in the habit of making official business transactions. Nevertheless, Severus duplicated the page, replaced the original, grabbed up his copies and left the office, locking it with a locking charm on the way out.