Chapter 2

Another Muggle

It was the 2nd of May, a very special day for Perce. He was awoken by his father, who kissed his forehead. "Happy birthday!" He whispered. Perce opened his eyes sleepily, and jerked back and hit his head to the wooden edge of the bed.

"Dad! I've told you not to — stand over me like that when I'm asleep —" he said, his eyes half-open, rubbing his head. "And thank you," he smiled.

Mr. Jordan chuckled. "Well, the hall is loaded with gifts, do get them up to your room," he said, getting up. "I need the hall cleared."

"Why? Are you going to try and surprise me with a party?" he said indifferently, sitting up straight.

"No, I —" he began his well-rehearsed lie, then his eyes narrowed seeing the faint smile on Perce's face. "How in the world —"

"Oh, my dear father. You're so obvious. Try better next time." He got up, and stretched.

"Well, I think it was foolish to try and surprise you. Who told you? Charles?"

He nodded absent-mindedly, as his father threw up his hands in defeat and got up to leave. Perce picked up the letter from Hogwarts from his bedside table, which he had received the previous day, and read it again, and sighed. "Ah, September is so far off… I can't wait."

"Neither can I," said Mr. Jordan, clearly disgruntled by the failure of his plan. "I don't believe you could weedle out that information from Charles. I will probably put a Memory Charm on him the next time," he laughed. Perce smiled as his father left, closing the door. He moved his hand carelessly, and the letter folded itself, slid into the envelope, which then neatly lay on the table. He smiled at his work, dressed quickly, and climbed downstairs. He glided down the last flight, and landed softly on the carpet, and looked up. His father was reading at the table, and to his right was an extraordinarily decorated room, hardly recognizable as the living room.

It had all the colors, but dominated by green. The thick curtains, which were now a shade of silver, supported an enormous, wildly colorful banner that read, "Happy Birthday Perce". He smiled to himself, and looked around to see a heap of gifts near the wall under a small tent-like structure. Hanging from the walls were shining green and silver ribbons, which had small pictures of snakes, invisible to anyone who didn't care to observe. Near the banner were curiously-shaped lanterns, which emitted a silver hue. Perce noticed that the lanterns were shaped like a snake's head, though it was not obvious. It was intriguing, as, once he looked at it that way, he couldn't see it as the curious shape it appeared to be a second ago. The carpet had been changed to a brilliant shade of green, with the lights from the ceilings producing a marvellous effect. Any wizard who saw this wouldn't doubt that this family prided themselves on being Slytherins, and any Muggle who saw this wouldn't doubt that this family had an extremely able designer.

"D'you like it?" called Mr. Jordan from the table, looking up from The Daily Prophet.

"Of course, Dad, just like all other decorations of yours," he grinned, sitting down, and began attacking his breakfast. "But," he swallowed, "why is it put up now? I thought it was supposed to be in the evening?"

"Charles told you that too?" He asked bitterly, and Perce laughed. He smiled again, and said, "Well, now that you know it, I wanted to show it to you. It took most of yesterday night, I didn't want to do it while you were awake." He resumed reading the Prophet.

Perce chuckled. "I like it. Are you going to leave it like that? What if some Muggle peeps in? They're awfully nosy, those Muggles."

Mr. Jordan sighed. "I wish you'd be kinder to them. They struggle a lot, they do. Poor things. And no, I'm not leaving it like that, for the reasons you said," he kept the paper down, got up, and waved his wand at the hall, while Perce was watching from the table. The colors transformed, the banner disappeared, the lights changed, and the room came back to its former appearance, though still beautiful. He came back and sat down.

Perce ate for a while, then turned to his father again. "What's going on?" He said, motioning to the Prophet.

"Oh nothing new. The same quarrels, Ministry poking around, nothing —" he paused, and his eyes widened slightly. "What the —"

"What's up, Dad?" Perce got up to see the paper, and whistled. "Murder," he murmured, nodding.

Mr. Jordan read it out: "'Madam Hepzibah Smith, 79, was found dead in her residence in the early hours of Friday, as reported by Ministry officials. On enquiry, it was found that her old house-elf, by the name of Hokey, added an unknown poison to her evening cocoa accidentally. Hokey admitted that it was not sugar, and that she was quite unaware of what she was doing. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures has given a sentence…' poor house-elf, probably old and tired. And no, Perce, it isn't murder, it was an accident. I heard about it at the Ministry, but I didn't know it was poison…"

Toby had just entered the room, and Perce gave a mischievous smile. "Toby, what if someday you add poison to my evening drink by accident, and I die?" he said, with mock-seriousness.

Toby almost dropped the plates he was holding, and he blanched. "Master — how could you say —" but Mr. Jordan intervened.

"Perce, that's not right. Toby is most helpful and loyal. Extremely efficient. Aren't you, Toby?"

Toby looked slightly consoled, and Perce chuckled. "I was joking, Toby. You're the best," he smiled.

"Toby tries his best to please his Masters," he bowed, looking delighted again, and left.

The day glided by and soon the house was shimmering with the decorations, braced for the celebration. Soon, the Jordans' Mansion had many guests, each one bamboozled by the lights and colors. There were Muggles, and Mr. Jordan's colleagues from the Ministry, fairly well-dressed in Muggle clothing. Everyone greeted Mr. Jordan, Miss Carl seemed quite happy that the boy was not going to lead the life of an illiterate, and they wished Perce a happy birthday. He was accustomed to talking with Muggles, though he didn't really like to, and knew the best responses. A frail looking man with an extremely wrinkled face, a pointed nose on which rested spectacles, and a thin mouth came to them. "Another Muggle," he thought, but smiled widely.

"Justin, and Perce," he said, in a deep voice that Perce did not expect from this frail old man, "this is an extremely well-arranged party indeed! It is almost like… magic." He had a slight twinkle in his eyes. Perce stared into those small, faded-green eyes, and smiled all the same.

"Tarfen Filster! Why, this is a surprise," he lowered his voice, "Perce, Tarfen was an Auror, a very fine one at that too!" He turned to Mr. Filster again, who smiled at Perce. "And yes, thank you, Tarfen. One does not turn eleven everyday, of course." Mr. Jordan beamed at him, and placed a hand on Perce's shoulder. "I sent an invitation, but I doubted that you would come. A long journey, I suppose?"

"I wanted to tell you earlier, Justin, but the opportunity didn't present itself," he chuckled, and continued, "I found a nice little cottage at the end of the street, and I decided that I'd take it. A peaceful retired life, it would be. So, on the whole, no. The journey was quite short." He laughed.

Mr. Jordan raised his eyebrows. "Ah, this is just brilliant! Well, Tarfen, you're welcome here at any time," he lowered his voice again, "I'm tired of having no wizard's company, all these Muggles only want to talk about my work and my cook. It's maddening me!" Perce chuckled.

Mr. Filster bowed. "It will be an honour, my dear Justin. But I wonder, will you be able to cope up with two Slytherins?" He chuckled, and Mr. Jordan laughed.

"I'll definitely try my best, old boy," he said, chuckling. "But don't you underestimate us Ravenclaws!" Mr. Filster gave a scoff and turned to Perce.

"I'm a Slytherin myself, dear boy. And considering your choice for decoration, I think you are lucky enough too!" He gave Perce a clap on the back.

Perce grinned. "Not yet Mr. Filster, but I most certainly want to be. I'm starting at Hogwarts this September."

"Ah! Excellent. Enter Slytherin, then let's give your father a hard time." All of them laughed.

After meeting all their neighbours, guests, and friends, including the nervous Charles and the voluble Miss Carl, they commenced the Muggle ritual of cutting the cake. It was of a shimmering silver colour, square-shaped, with 'Happy Birthday Perce' written in green, with green candles. Toby had indeed done an excellent job, thought Perce. Everyone burst out singing the birthday song as Perce proceeded to cut the cake. Soon, they were stuffing themselves with it, and the various other delicious items the table showed.

The party dispersed after an hour. After many 'thank you's and 'of course's and 'definitely's, the house was empty again, except for Mr. Filster. Mr. Jordan took one last look at the hall, then started waving his wand to clear up everything, aided by Mr. Filster. Soon, they were in the living room, by the fire, sitting in the comfortable chairs. Mr. Jordan spoke.

"A pity, that Grenda couldn't come, Tarfen. The food was exceptionally good today, Toby's outdoing himself each time," he chuckled.

"Ah. Grenda asked me to convey her greetings. She is still busy with all the arrangements and what-not. We shifted a week ago, you see. And who's Toby? That's the house-elf?" He asked, and Mr. Jordan nodded. "Well, you are extremely lucky, Justin, he's absolutely brilliant! Never had such good food since my days at the Ministry." He shook his head. "I daresay I will be coming more often now, after this meal tonight," he laughed, and Perce chuckled.

There was silence for a while, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

"Justin, did you hear about that death? Madam Hepzibah Smith, that's the name," he spoke, turning towards Mr. Jordan again.

He looked up and nodded, "Why yes, Cadders was telling me about it, and the Prophet spoke about it today. Poor old house-elf…"

Mr. Filster looked thoughtful. "Now, Miss Smith is known to be an extremely rich woman, and she was fond of rare and rather valuable trinkets…"

Perce turned sharply. "Are you suggesting murder, Mr. Filster?" He asked, in a cool voice.

Mr. Filster raised his eyebrows slightly, and spoke slowly. "I have my suspicions, Perce, because house-elves are too loyal and careful… she was very rich. We may never know, of course. It is highly unlikely. Hokey, that's her name I think, could have been controlled. But as I said, it is unlikely. The Ministry, of course, is very lazy," he laughed, "and please, call me Tarfen," he smiled at Perce.

Mr. Jordan looked thoughtful. Perce began, "Well, if it was murder, then it was a clever one. But how would the murderer have controlled the house-elf? He should have entered the house, for one."

Mr. Jordan shook his head. "It is unlikely it was murder, Perce. Hokey said that she might have added something to her Mistress's cocoa, and the Ministry didn't inquire further. Convicted the elf. Well, we can't blame them, as there is no evidence pointing otherwise."

"He's right. This was just a doubt I had," Mr. Filster agreed. "And now I must get going," he glanced at the wall clock whose hands were shaped like wands, and which was showing ten-thirty. "My wife will be expecting me. Thank you, Justin, and Perce, for the wonderful feast, and your hospitality. I shall intrude no further," he bowed.

"It was an honour, Tarfen. I am grateful you could come. Please do convey my regards to Grenda. You both are welcome here at any time," he smiled, and shook his hand. Tarfen left the mansion, and the both of them were sitting in the chairs. Perce was playing with a ball, making it zoom around the room, and stopping dead mid-air, then zooming again. Mr. Jordan was reading a book, and got up.

"Well, Perce, I'm off to bed. G'night," he nodded, and left. Perce got up too, and went up to his room.

"September 1st… ah. Still a very long time," he muttered to himself, reading his letter again. Indeed, he wanted to go. See Hogwarts, and discover its secrets, the passages, rooms, knowledge. And there would be the legendary Albus Dumbledore… He drifted off to sleep.