Chapter Six
After lunch, Severus, robes and all, went out with Mr. and Mrs. Norton and Becky to look at the Nortons' property, but not before casting a Cooling Charm on himself. It was time for the second milking of the cows – they milked the cows three times a day on the Norton farm – and the Nortons thought it would be good for Severus to see what that was all about.
"Fifty acres of soybeans, plus a five-acre house plot with apple trees in the backyard, walnut trees in front, strawberry beds, a truck patch, a hay field, strawberry, blueberry and raspberry bushes, some chickens and a rooster for eggs et cetera, two cows for milk-cheese-butter-et cetera. It ain't much, son," Mr. Norton said as he strode out with Severus and Mrs. Norton to one of the outbuildings on the property, "'specially compared with the bigger farms around here. And the beans don't bring in as much money as they should, which is why I'm diversifying some. But the beans feed the cows and the chickens, especially in the winter months, and it's home."
The young wizard cast his eyes about the farmstead as they walked. It looked neat, well-kept; he wondered if the cows were responsible for that, at least the grass part.
"Do you use a lot of machinery, sir?"
"Machinery? Yah, we use a bit. Coupla tractors for the beans and for mowing the hay and such, plus the combine and milking gear..." Norton glanced over at Severus, noted the blank expression on the boy's face. "Sounds like this is all going over your head."
"Beg pardon, sir?"
"He means that he's not sure this is making any sense to you, Severus," Mrs. Norton supplied, in that smokily-husky voice of hers, as they walked past the largest of the outbuildings over to where a pair of brown cows sat in the shade of the apple trees. The trees weren't very tall, but then again, neither were the cows.
"There's not much call for machinery in our world," the boy said. "In fact, it's illegal to own most Muggle artifacts."
"Is that so? Well, that's a heck of a way to run a railroad." Mr. Norton turned towards the cows, who had lifted their heads at the approach of the three humans and now were looking with a placid sort of inquiry at the black-clad stranger in their midst. "Ava, Marilyn, come on now, it's time for Number Two." The cows blinked their round dark eyes, then lowed softly as they rose to follow him into the barn.
"They listen to him," Mrs. Norton whispered to Severus, "but not to me or Becky. I think they're jealous of other females." Becky rolled her eyes and snorted, but said nothing.
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Severus soon, to his great surprise, found himself more or less successfully milking a cow.
Mr. Norton had pulled him over to the milking stand where Ava – or was it Marilyn? – was tethered, washed his hands and washed the cow's udder, then grabbed a sanitized metal bucket and showed him what to do. Ava stood placidly as he fumbled around and got the first teat's squeezings all over himself; Becky had laughed, but then he muttered a quick Evanesco and his robes were suddenly milk-free, which shut her up. And he managed to direct the rest of Ava's milk straight into the galvanized tin bucket, which Mrs. Norton promptly took to the large metal cylinder in the corner.
"What's that?" Severus asked, watching as Mrs. Norton poured the milk inside of it.
"It's a pasteurizer, son."
"Ah," Severus replied, in that tone of voice which was shorthand for "...and now I know as much as I did before about it, which was nothing."
Mr. Norton grinned, and looked at the boy with a speculative gaze that, strangely enough, reminded him both of Hagrid and of Dumbledore. "Heats the milk up enough to kill any germs it might have."
"I see."
"We get enough milk and butter and cream every day for our daily needs and then some," supplied Mrs. Norton. "The extra goes into making cheeses, most of which we sell at the farmers' markets locally and in Rochester, and sometimes even up in the Cities."
"'The Cities?'"
"Oh, that's what we call Minneapolis and Saint Paul, the two biggest cities in our state. They straddle the Mississippi about a hundred or so miles to the north of us. We get up there a couple times a year, especially for the State Fair so we can check out the new farm machinery for sale on Machinery Hill."
"Ah."
Mrs. Norton smiled, a refined echo of her husband's earlier grin. "Don't worry, Severus. It'll all start to make sense eventually."
Mr. Norton finished milking the other cow – neither cow would let Becky or Mrs. Norton anywhere near them. It took him a lot less time than it had taken Severus, and he'd avoided getting any milk on himself.
When the milking was done, Mrs. Norton pulled four large square wooden baskets from a shelf on the wall and handed them out. Each of the large wooden baskets was filled with several smaller baskets.
"We're going to the berry patches next," she explained to Severus, as he stared quizzically at the basket in his hand.
"Yupper," Mr. Norton averred. "As for the cows, we'll come back around nine o'clock tonight and get the last milking in."
They all walked out with the cows into the yard, Mr. Norton leading the way, but with Severus at his side.
"We get a gallon and a half from each of them per milking," Mr. Norton said as they walked towards the part of the property where the berry bushes were located, "which is enough to make a pound and a half of cheese – we do Cheddar mostly, but we also have some soft cheeses like Neufchatel – which works out to eight pounds a day after the household milk's subtracted. We sell it at $1.25 a pound wholesale, $2.00 a pound retail, and it brings in about four thousand dollars a year for us." He gave Severus a sidelong grin. "Not a heckuva lot, but it helps, and it gives me something to do in the winter."
"Is this a busy time of year for you, sir?" Severus
"Kinda, though it won't get super-busy until around about August and September, when the apples and beans and walnuts start to be ready for picking. The soybeans just need to be checked for weeds more than anything right now. The strawberries are pretty much done for the year – they're at the stage where we only need to check 'em for ripe berries every other day, and we did that yesterday – but the raspberries are coming on strong right now, and the blueberries are starting to come along."
"They certainly are," Mrs. Norton chimed in. Her short brown hair, straight as a stick, blew around her face, gleaming like burnished wood where it caught the afternoon sun. "John honey, Becky and I will go over to the blueberry patch, okay? You and Severus can work the raspberries."
Mr. Norton grinned yet again. "I was just about to suggest that, Sarah. Come along, son," he said to Severus, and started towards a stand of waist-high green bushes with small red dots on them. "Now the key to raspberry picking, Severus, is not to pull too hard..."
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The discovery came to Harry in the middle of Quidditch practice, and when it did come, it nearly knocked him off his broom.
"Harry!" Ginny called out from the ground, where she was suited up to take over as Seeker in case Harry was incapacitated. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Harry called out, righting himself just in time to avoid a Bludger. And a good thing, too: Practice Bludgers were made out of rubber and not metal, but nobody in his right mind wanted to be hit by one. (Well, Uric the Oddball had a fondness for bouncing rubber practice Bludgers off his forehead, but no one ever said that he was in his right mind.)
The rest of the practice progressed without incident, but Ginny noticed that Harry was distracted and not playing like his usual self. Granted, he was so good that even when distracted, he was the best player on the pitch, but still...
She also noticed that he was off his broom and off the pitch in record time. This wasn't typical at all of him – usually he lingered after practice, discussing strategy and plans for the next match. Something was up.
Moving quietly, Ginny beat Harry into the changing rooms and made a point of getting into her regular robes as fast as she could. She was going to follow Harry and get to the
bottom of this.