Chapter 2: In Which Cecily Craven Is Doomed to Be Disappointed
"When are they getting here?"
"Not till this afternoon, your father and Danny will be bringing them home from work along with Kieran and Douglas."
"How many?"
"I can't say for certain, dear, but I can't imagine more than 3 or 4, even with the extra cots, we have limited space in here."
"And you're sure you don't know ANY of their names?"
"No."
"Not any?"
"My dear, if you are so clumsily trying to ask me whether Bridget O'Toole is among them then the answer is no. The same as it was this morning, and yesterday evening at dinner."
"But, she HAS to come, doesn't she? Because the headmaster said that they all had to go and-"
"I am sure that Bridget is being quite properly looked after, but that does not mean she will be spending any time here."
"Are there at least any GIRLS among this bunch?"
Eileen Craven thought somewhat despondently of the state of her parlor once her husband, eldest son, 7th year Kieran Riley and 5th year Douglas Douglas had finished stamping the floo powder off their cloaks and boots at the end of their day. She thought of the massive amounts of food that were required to feed those bottomless pits they had the nerve to call stomachs. And she thought of the noise, sweet merciful Merlin, the noise...
"Yes my dear, a few girls would be nice."
A bell rang in the front hall.
"I'll get it!"
"Cecily, please have a care for your grandmother's china, you're meant to inherit that if you don't destroy every piece before dinner."
Cecily quickly placed the cup and saucer she had knocked to the floor back on the table and dashed for the door.
She tried not to let her face drop too much when she saw who had come to call.
"Oh, hello Mrs. O'Fallon, hello Dylan."
"Good afternoon Cecily, is your mother at home?"
"She's in the parlor, we were just sitting down to tea. Come in, would you care to stay for some?"
Please God let her be in a hurry.
Kate O'Fallon chuckled silently to herself, and smiled in appreciation of Cecily's deeply ingrained sense of company manners. Despite the cheerful facade she was perfectly well aware that that child would sooner offer herself to a Norwegian Ridgeback for breakfast than sit down to tea with her Dylan. Their mutual hatred was a frequent topic of conversation between herself and Eileen once the children were away at school, for, indeed, they had been the most bitter of rivals during their school years. In fact they had been archenemies until one fated day in 5th year potions, when their misflung hexes had resulted in mutual confinement to the hospital wing for 6 weeks, completely bald and without the use of thumbs. They had been fast friends ever since.
With a smile of fond remembrance Kate patted her chestnut curls and shook her head.
"No dear, not today. I just came by to drop off a few tidbits we had in the kitchen, from what I hear you're feeding an army around here lately."
"And it's getting larger by the hour," Eileen sailed in from the parlor, handing the basket from Kate to Cecily and kissing Kate on the cheek. "Why hello, Dylan, my you've grown this summer haven't you?"
Dylan, swallowed his frown and smiled, "Hello Mrs. Craven." Mrs. Craven had been telling him that he'd grown every sumer for as long as he could remember. Fortunately, his mother and Cecily's began rattling on, as they always did, and he wasn't required to say anything further.
"Kate dear, there's enough in here to feed us for a week! You didn't have to do this!"
"Well, I felt I ought to, seeing as we couldn't take any students in ourselves, poor little dears. We talked about it of course, Patrick and I, but Patrick's mother and father are already staying with us, and his sister's family as well, just until they sell the Dublin house, they're moving to Sussex, did you hear?"
"Maggie's going to Sussex, truly? Well it can't have been her idea, how on earth did Edgar manage to get her to go? And I thought he was pleased with the Dublin house?"
"Oh it's not that really, I think they planed to move just as soon as her parents were settled in with us, the Dublin house is getting a bit snug, and for a family of five it just won't do-"
"Five! I hadn't hear about THAT at all! I think you better come tell me all about it. Cecily, take Mrs. O'Fallon's wrap dear. And Dylan, yes you just leave those parcels there and come in and have some tea."
At that moment the unspeakable tortures of Azkaban would have been as welcome as a picnic by the sea in June to Cecily Craven and Dylan O'Fallon. The last time their mothers had sat down to tea the event had lasted 4 hours, by which time it had grown dark and Dylan and his mother had stayed for supper.
Oh if only her father would bring home a girl!
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It was a busy afternoon at the Ministry of Magic. First there was that unfortunate incident involving the Experimental Potions Department's untimely spillage of a new low viscosity broom wax in the main entry hall, which, coupled with last week's memo to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department about the sovereign importance of punctuality, had resulted in several eager workers sent to the infirmary at 7 in the morning with assorted broken bones, bruises, and concussions.
The timing of the whole affair was most unfortunate, as just before noon an alarm came into the office that somehow a teapot which an employee had enchanted to sing, dance and spray lukewarm water around the table, "Just a present for my niece, that's all", had been left in a carriage, recovered by muggles, and soaked an entire assemblage of the Ladies for Christian Decency and Decorum Society in a VERY good part of town. With all the more eager and more adept members of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department still in the infirmary, an assembly of more recent staffers had been sent out to remedy the situation.
All appeared to go well, until it became apparent that instead of administering a memory charm to cause all the ladies to forget about the singing, dancing, spraying teapot, poor Mr. Levys, who had been late to work on account of a headache for which, it would later be revealed, his wife had administered far too much tonic, instead cast a charm that resulted in the wives of several of London's most prominent bankers and lawyers to believe that they WERE teapots. Not just any teapots, of course, but singing, dancing, spraying teapots that quite overwhelmed the wizards and eagerly scattered throughout London.
It had required a second alarm and every spare wizard there was to be had to hunt down all of them, and it was terribly hard to keep it all discreet, especially as a very enthusiastic four, having shed by now most of their clothes, or "tea cozies" as it were, had taken it into their heads to dance a tarantella around the statue of Lord Nelson, spitting all the while, whilst their fifth compatriot sang a sort of sea chanty that she had no business either knowing or understanding and which, had the other ladies noted it, would had drawn several serious challenges as to the validity of her pedigree.
Considering the danger of letting the novices perform any more memory charms, orders had been to seek and capture; the plan being to collectively deal with the women back in the safety of the Ministry where they were no longer arousing the public's attention.
That brought them to the third exploit of the afternoon. The Experimental Potions Department, being in a hurry to further explore the potential of their VERY effective low viscosity lubricant, had decided that rather than clean it up properly, a good drying charm of some sort ought to be enough to eliminate the danger and leave the floor looking oh so shiny. However, as they would only discover in later experiments, a drying charm, when applied to the experimental low viscosity lubricant, had somewhat the opposite affect, and turned the potion into nothing more than a very, very strong glue. Everyone having fled the building to deal with nearly naked tarantella dancers in the heart of London, this was only discovered when the ladies were brought back in, attempted to cross the main hall, and found themselves rooted to the spot. Their captors managed to escape by stepping out of their shoes, but the women, having shed their expensive leather footwear ages ago (for teapots do not wear shoes) were for all intensive purposes, immobile.
So it was that when Minister of Magic Wendall Wentworth Westing returned to his office following a rather long and boring trip to France, he was greeted by the sight of some thirty-odd middle-aged scantily-clad VERY rich muggle women expectorating profusely, singing bawdy songs at the top of their lungs, and twisting their bodies in a rather unorthodox fashion with their feet seemingly rooted to the floor of his lobby. Taken as a whole he found it much more interesting than listening to Minister Jacques 'Le Fop' Portiscue expound on the finer points of kestral grooming. He nodded to the very flustered heads of several departments, skirted the lake of glue, and headed up the stairs to his office and his brandy.
He found his Associate Minister of Magic seated at his desk, reading four feet of parchment and taking notes at the same time.
"Good afternoon Sigmund, everything still spinning?"
Sigmund Belsch was tall, wiry man whose blond hair was not going gray, it was going white. He stood up immediately and stepped aside with a little bow to allow the Wendall to sit down.
"Yes, sir. I have notes for you here on these proposals, as well as the minutes of the last few sub-committee meetings."
"I'm sure those were as stimulating as ever."
Sigmund smiled, "Indeed, sir."
"I hate to say it, but I would almost welcome them after three days in the French Ministry. 'Why say it in five words when fifty will do' seems to be their motto."
"Was the visit productive sir?"
"Yes, once we had danced around the subject long enough Portiscue was quite ready to concede that they had been cheating us abominably for the past 10 years with regards to the import tax. I rather wish we had danced around it a little longer, for once that business was done I was punished with a VERY lengthy description of French kestral breeding. Have you ever wondered at the fertilizer content of 19 kilograms of dung from a pregnant kestral, Mr. Belsch?"
"No, sir, can't say that I have."
"Neither did I. Miss Strong? Miss Strong could you come in here? Thank you, Miss Strong I would like you to ban everyone from the office today who plans on bringing up the subject of kestrals. And I would like you to move that painting in the outer office to somewhere else in the building."
"But there are no kestrals in that painting, sir."
"No, but there is a rather large paddock, and you know Sir Thomas' sense of humor. He'll have heard all of this by now and go bring a friend from a painting somewhere in the Agriculture Department and there they'll be, kestrals! Thousands of them, all staring at me! Make my excuses to Sir Thomas, if you'd be so kind Sigmund, and then Hillary may move him somewhere else. Try the atrium; there was a most interesting sight there this morning. I am correct in assuming that the dancing, singing women in the ingenious attire were not put there for my benefit? Some sort of 'welcome home' present, perhaps?"
Hillary Strong blushed to the roots of her black, impeccably styled hair and Sigmund coughed.
"You are correct, sir."
"Well, I'm sorry to hear it. Have some of those summer employees of ours help you with Sir Thomas, Miss Strong, and if he is the least bit ungentlemanly you may hang him next to the portrait of Lady Goldenblatt in the sixth floor nursery. Oh, and check to see if they have quite cleaned all the vomit off her from last week. Thank you, Miss Strong."
Sigmund smiled to himself. The sixth floor nursery was a day care of sorts for the children of ladies volunteering with the Witches Aid Society. The head of the society at the moment had an absolutely terrifying three year old, and it was the greatest fear of the wizards of the Endangered Magical Beasts and Birds Department, located just down the hall, that someday young Typhon would get loose and wander down their way. As a result the nursery was an absolute fortress, with no one to mind the children but a senile retired Hogwarts school nurse and the portrait of Lady Lucille Goldenblatt, who never tired of yelling at small children. She enjoyed her position, being a hearty woman who didn't mind a little tear here and there, but being sentenced to the nursery was the nightmare of most all the other paintings in the Ministry. Sigmund was quite sure that last remark about the vomit had been purely for Sir Thomas' benefit, to remind him what might happen should he misbehave again.
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"He certainly is heavy, isn't he?"
"Ugh, could stand to lose a stone or two, that's for sure."
There came an indignant muffling from under the canvas.
"Now watch your tongue Sir Thomas, there are ladies present. The sixth floor is not so far away, you know."
Silence.
Hilary Strong smiled and walked sedately along as the two boys hefted Sir Thomas' portrait down the stairs to the atrium. The teapot ladies remained were they had been, just as loud and eager as ever. There was now the added element of several dozen Ministry workers, all arguing over whose responsibility the women were now. The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department was claiming that, seeing as the teapot itself had already been neutralized, they were no longer involved. The task of fixing the ladies and returning them to their homes was clearly the responsibility of the Misguided Muggle Management Department. However, the MMMD's wanted nothing to do with the mess, saying they only had jurisdiction over muggles who mistakenly wandered into wizard-intensive areas, like Quidditch pitches and the dragon reserves, or the occasional muggle whose pursuit of alcohol has lead them into the Leaky Cauldron. Since these ladies had clearly not come to this position of their own free will, this was obviously a job for the SPCM. But the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Muggles had not the least intention of taking the job, theirs was a legislative function, not to mention that attitudes towards muggles being what they were the society only had 3 paid employees. Someone had come up with the idea that it all ought to be dropped in the lap of the chaps down in the Experimental Potions Department, but no one had seen hide nor hair of them since the glue incident, their doors were locked, and there was a strong suspicion that they had every one of them fled the city. Hilary smiled again, Sir Thomas would be delighted.
"Just hang him there boys, across from Lord Abernathy."
Kieran steadied the painting as Douglas helped heave it into place.
"Feast you eyes, Sir Thomas," he declared as he pulled off the canvas with a flourish.
Hilary had worked seven feet from Sir Thomas for the past five years. She had never seen him speechless before.
"Tommy? Tommy my boy, good to see you! Well, pity you couldn't have got here sooner, you've missed quite a morning."
Sir Thomas brightened. "Desmond, it's been decades since we've been on the same floor!"
"Well, you know, you make one slightly indecent joke about the Minister's wife..."
Hilary rolled her eyes, "Come along then boys."
"Where are we going now?"
"To the sixth floor."
Kieran and Douglas stopped dead in their tracks.
"Don't look at me like that, I promised Minister Westing I would check on Lady Goldenblatt. And I'll be needing you two to relieve Agnes."
"Who?"
"Agnes Donnelly, from Belfast, I believe, she's been assisting old whats- her-name in the nursery and she hasn't had a lunch break yet."
"Please Miss Strong, don't make us go in there, we have too much to live for!"
"Look at it this way, at least there's two of you. She's been on her own all day, poor thing. Besides, we have a few more coming through today, one of the houses that was going to take them in has an infestation of salamander-mites and apparently could burn up at any moment, so I need her to help me sort them all out. Last time we made modifications to Professor Ambrose's arrangements we sent too many to one house and they were sleeping in the bathtubs!"
"I'll sleep in the bathtub if I don't have to go into the nursery."
Hilary put her hands on her hips, "You're good boys, and I'm fond of both of you, and I believe every person is entitled to their own choice. So, you can choose to help out in the nursery, or take the second option."
The boys heaved a sigh of relief.
"The second option is cleaning out the pens in the infirmary of the Endangered Magical Beasts and Birds Department, I've been told they are getting quite foul."
Kieran pouted, "That's not fair."
Hilary tossed her head. "I've spent the past five years working seven feet from the 200 year old portrait of a wizard who, among other accomplishments, holds the standing record for longest conversation carried on with HIMSELF. We'll talk about fair another time. You aren't particularly attached to those clothes are you?"
As the boys trudged back up the stairs to almost certain death and or dismemberment Douglas could hear Sir Thomas whisper, "By the way, Desi old pal, tell Edgar I won't be needing those kestrals after all."
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Agnes Donnelly considered herself a patient girl. As the oldest of 9 children and the roommate of two girls with no siblings at all, she was experienced in handling childish behavior. What she had not been prepared for, however, was the Devil himself. However, coming from a very Catholic village, Agnes was well schooled in how to handle the devil, and after three hours of torment, had succeeded in beating him at his own game. All it had required was a quick message to the Experimental Potions Department.
So it was that when Hilary Strong knocked on the nursery door, it was a very calm and serene Agnes who opened the small peephole.
"We've come to give you a lunch break Agnes," Hilary said.
"How nice, I was beginning to think I was going to have to steal some of Arthur Lawrence's juice and crackers. Go ahead, Ill be just a minute."
Hilary began to unfasten the 6 deadbolts located at various heights on the outside of the door, a recent addition to the nursery since the arrival of Typhon. In response she heard Agnes dialing the combinations of 5 locks and manually unlocking 4 more, then heaving up the port challis as Hillary opened the solid oak door.
The nursery was in a remarkable state of cleanliness, in fact it was damn near pristine. Toys were lined up neatly on the shelves, the self rocking horse was snoozing contentedly in the corner, its bandaged foreleg appeared to be healing quite nicely. Old WhatsHerName was dozing in a chair and Lady Goldenblatt appeared to be knitting a pastel colored straight jacket serenely in her frame. The carpet appeared to be the same color it had been this morning, and the walls were, remarkably enough, completely intact.
Douglas and Kieran paused in the doorway, staring about in wonder. Hilary turned to Agnes.
"Um, Agnes, dear, where are the children?"
"Playing."
"Where?"
At that moment a small cracker landed on the carpet. Agnes spied it, sighed, and picked it up. "Arthur, I told you that snack time was over, and I meant it."
"Sorry Miss Donnelly."
Taking a deep breath, Hilary lifted her eyes to the ceiling.
40 eyes stared back at her in wild delight.
"Agnes..."
"It's quite safe Miss Strong, I assure you. The chaps from the Experimental Potions Department tested the release charm on Typhon first, just before they all left for Kent, didn't they Typhoid my boy?"
"Yup," the answer came from a three year old who was plastered back against the ceiling, with only his head free to move about. Other children were suspended by only their feet, clinging to one another to stay closer to the ceiling, or swinging back and forth by their ankles like trained monkeys.
"They're working on making it a wee less strong, enough so they can climb about a bit more. However they seem quite content just to hang around."
"How long have they been up there?"
"Oh, an hour or two. Everyone having fun?"
"Yes!"
"Fingers?"
"Ten!"
"Toes?"
"Ten!"
"Eyeballs?"
"Two!"
"See," Agnes shrugged, "They're fine. As easy as lambs."
Hilary swallowed. "If their mothers-"
"Want to know where to get a bottle, just tell them the boys down in Ex. Pot.'s are MORE then willing to offer them one when they return from the country, and they're willing to offer Typhon's mother a barrel. What's for lunch?"
"Well, boys, it appears you're off the hook. Lady Goldenblatt, you'll be all right there?"
The old dowager look up from her knitting and smiled. "They cleaned me up just fine dear, and I daresay the little chandeliers will keep for a few more hours. Nature may be pressing if they're not let down by three or so, if you know what I mean?"
Agnes nodded, "Nurse, um, what's her name? She knows the release charm, if they need it badly enough, they'll be able to wake her up."
"Lovely to meet you my dear."
"Have a nice afternoon Lady Goldenblatt."
Kieran lowered the port challis and Hilary refastened the outer locks while Douglas swept Agnes down the hall on his arm. Seeing as she had saved Kieran and himself from almost certain death at the hands of an unrestrained criminally demented three year old, from that day forward she was looked upon as their own personal messiah, her name was immortalized in song, and she never had to pay for a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks ever again.
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"But how on earth did you get them up there?"
"It's a lot like de-gnoming a garden, actually... No, Tilly, she can't go to the Craven's, they've got four now as it is."
"Do they, oh you're right, I missed that one."
"You didn't bring your glasses."
"I forgot them."
"You're a rotten liar, and as we have told you time and again, look rather distinguished in your glasses."
"You're just being nice."
"Well if you mind it so much I'll stop, and tell you quite frankly that you look most un-charming squinting like that."
"You're sure there's no more room at the Craven's?"
"They already have Kieran and Douglas, quite charming lads, aren't they? And they are getting Connor and Sean this afternoon."
"I just thought, all those boys..."
"Well, they'll keep each other company, won't they?
"It says here the Craven's were willing to take six."
"And there is a note here from Professor Ambrose that their household can't possibly take more than four. Mrs. Craven's just a soft touch, that's all."
"I bet she won't be once she sees how much food 14 year old boys consume."
"She's raised one of her own, I'm sure she has the general idea."
"All right then, what about these two?"
"Two?"
"O'Toole and a first year, McCarthy."
"There's room at the Crawford's."
"How many have they got?"
"Just one, Emmet McDermott, aren't he and Bridget both in Hufflepuff?"
"Ravenclaw, I think, and different years, Emmet's in my little brother's year."
"Speaking of the Bruce, how's he doing? Did all the bones heal straight?"
"Straight enough, and he's doing fine, from what I've seen of him. He spends all day running wild with Eric Redding, so he's hardly ever home."
"That's convenient, isn't it?"
"Terribly. So O'Toole and McCarthy can go to the Crawford's?"
"Yes. I think..."
"Aggie..."
"Let me check the lists ONE more time... Don't frown that way Tilly, it makes your face look crooked."