Working with Mr. Odpadki's magical waste hauling company, Rapid Removal, typically held Dennis' interest far more than any might suspect. They often encountered situations bordering on the surreal even for the wizarding world. Throughout the eight months he worked with the man since graduating from Hogwarts, Dennis faced situations that not only increased his knowledge of magic, but taught him ways to protect himself he otherwise would not consider. He never quite knew, and neither did his employer, when a pile of rubbish might up and attack them. Hence, the young man became rather nimble on his feet and sharpened his powers of observation. Moreover, Mr. Odpadki became a confidant after spending hours and hours with the man trying to solve complex situational problems.
"Out with it, Dennis. You're mind isn't in the match today," Mr. Odpadki encouraged him as they drove toward the site of their first job. "This one could go 'round the bend real fast, and I need you on your toes."
"It's my dad," Dennis sighed.
"One, two, or three?"
"Two. He thinks I'm wasting my time helping the ghosts."
They developed a shorthand when it came to discussing certain father issues. Topic One meant a new crisis involved issues surrounding Dennis' sexuality or his boyfriend. Topic Two focused on issues regarding the magical realm, and that included the haunts of Hogwarts. Topic Three got reserved for tense subject of Collin's death. As a very good father to four children, Mr. Odpadki tended to treat Dennis like one of his own. Then again, Dennis experiencing an off-mood or off-day could result in catastrophic consequences. His employer came to value him and routinely used Dennis for the worst jobs. Thus, sorting through the troubles of the young man became an exercise in self-preservation.
"Do you is the real question, Denny," the man semi-inquired. "S'not always what other people think, and you know that. Would you be letting yourself down if you didn't help them?"
"I've told you way too much about myself," Dennis grumbled.
Mr. Odpadki laughed and clapped him on the arm with his left hand while driving Kate with the other, and he named the rig after his mother. The heavily modified truck, mostly by magic but beefed up by conventional means as well, rumbled like an annoyed rhinoceros as it charged down the road to their destination. Dennis drove the truck once, and it scare the life out of him. The power of the engine threatened to get out of control with each passing second, and he lacked the overall upper body strength to helm the wheel. Mr. Odpadki, built like and as stable as the Matterhorn, tamed the truck through brute force. The man loved the vehicle almost as much as his children. Moreover, it became half of the backbone of his company.
"You're a good lad, so stick true to what you are. Never thought much 'bout ghosts and the like 'til I got to chatting with you. Must be a rough… life, I think, for 'em seeing as how they are. Might be you're doing a favor to a lot of people who don't even know it," Mr. Odpadki said in an encouraging manner.
"Maybe," he answered and shrugged. The relieved faces of the Halvershams rippled through his mind. "Like I've told you: I'm paying back what they did for me."
"And it don't matter either way, living or dead, 'bout returning a favor."
Dennis smiled. Mr. Odpadki never once balked at his requests for extra time away from the job to track down a lead or visit the living connected to what he attempted for the spirits. Sometimes the situation made Dennis wonder what it might be like if he came from a magical family, but the thought of gave him a jolt. He loved his parents despite the rough times and the tensions. Being a muggle-born wizard also gave Dennis a unique perspective few actually appreciated: he could see both sides of the world. It allowed him to fairly, at least in his opinion, evaluate the grievances of the magical and muggle worlds and decide which deserved credence. Unfortunately, neither side seemed to want his opinion. Only the rare individuals like Professor Flitwick, Hermione Granger, and Mr. Odpadki saw his unusual situation as a net benefit.
"Yeah. That's the right of it," Dennis agreed, and he came to conclusion the issue might never reach resolution. He shifted around in the left-hand seat. "So, what's on the sheets for today?"
Mr. Odpadki accepted the sudden change in topic and explained they first went to deal with a magical herb garden grown wild. The owner, the man explained, died some years before, and the children neglected the home until the garden tried to attack anyone who got too close to the surrounding stone fencing. It appeared the spells used to contain the garden began to disintegrate and dispel. They crossed the Thames on the Wadsworth Bridge as they made for The Scope portion of Wadsworth Common. A very small magical community resided just off of Routh Road, and there they would find the offending patch of land.
"And after that we've got a magicked cabinet to dispose of 'cept it being full of doxies. Don't know how you feel about them…"
"I've been bit enough times and the medication for their spit leaves a bad taste in my mouth for a week," the younger man interject and assumed the question. "I think hitting them with Knockback Jinx a dozen or so times will convince them to go somewhere else."
"And if we can't convince them?"
Dennis eyed his employer and took the hint. The humanoid-appearing little magical creatures could be rather combative if they truly liked their adopted home. Dennis openly speculated the cabinet to be full of old, discarded magical clothing if it attracted the pests. Mr. Odpadki did not disagree, but his initial question continued to hang in the air. Dennis frowned.
"They don't like heat, so I guess we could make it uncomfortable for them," the younger wizard suggested.
"Ever smell roasting doxy?" Mr. Odpadki inquired.
Dennis wrinkled his nose at the idea.
The man nodded and said while expertly avoiding crashing into another lorry: "You can disapparate off if bothers you, but we're trying to save the cabinet. We can use it for resale once we clean it out. Sasha is pretty deft with potions, you know, so she can whip up a cleaner."
"Do they know you sometimes keep what you're supposed to trashing?" Dennis queried.
"Once they sign whatever it is over to me, it's mine to do whatever I want with it. 'Les, of course, they say it's got to be destroyed like the Olivanders do. Anyway, not my fault if folks can't fend for themselves against the small stuff."
Dennis slowly came to reflect Mr. Odpadki's belief people would rather take the easy route than discover something new or worthwhile if it seemed to take too much effort. His work as a rubbish hauler gave him an altogether different view of humanity. He got looked down on by others when he explained his job, one he increasingly came to enjoy, and they considered it low class. Dennis liked to ask what they would do with their trash if people like him did not provide the service. This often got met with blank stares as the reality sank in a little. Sometimes he ran into old classmates at the Ministry when he did research. They chided him for his occupation. However, Dennis learned through those encounters that Mr. Odpadki tapped into a rather lucrative field. When it came down to bragging about salaries, he outstripped his former antagonists by a wide margin. Dennis regularly left the Ministry with a new appreciation for his employer.
"What'd you get for those broomsticks?" Dennis asked when his mind returned to the present.
"Come to find out they was from the early sixteen-hundreds," Mr. Odpadki announced. "Not much magic left in 'em, so I shipped 'em off to The Hekate Museum up in Hosey Common. They always seem properly grateful when I send 'em authenticate antiques. Haven't paid a dime in entrance fees for ten years," Mr. Odpadki proudly stated.
"Never been there."
"You should go. More fascinating than you'd ever think. Would teach you a thing or two 'bout your magical roots."
Dennis slowly nodded his head. While more than a few of Mr. Odpadki's suggestions failed to spark any keen interest in the younger man, sometimes the older man mentioned an item in passing that, when investigated, proved very instructive or entertaining at the least. Dennis tucked away the information for later research. His brain then coughed up another tidbit deserving of real consideration.
"Mister Odpadki, were you just thinking of burning down the garden?" Dennis inquired.
"Might come down to it. Why? You got something else in mind?" His boss rejoined.
"More like someone. A fellow I knew in school had a good hand with plants and such, so I was thinking maybe we might want to talk to him first 'fore we get too carried away. Bet Neville Longbottom could think of a better way to handle it."
"Why do I know that name?"
"I've talked 'bout him a few times before."
"You fancied him?" Mr. Odpadki asked without any sense of being demeaning or taunting.
"No, no. He's the one who cut the head off Voldemort's snake during the war," Dennis explained.
In the true fashion of those who could not quite release old fears, Mr. Odpadki flinched at the sound of the name. Over the course of the past half-year, Dennis explained as much as he knew about the second Voldemort war from a ground-eye perspective, especially when it came to details concerning Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley. Half of his information came from reading and speaking with Hermione when she found time for a long chat after catching him in the library or some other part of the Ministry. Relating his experiences and knowledge to Mr. Odpadki often helped burn the time they spent in traffic jams in and around London. It also assisted in putting Colin's death into a broader perspective and helped explain Dennis' late brother's actions in some regard. Despite all they discussed, Mr. Odpadki still reacted to the name of the Dark Lord.
"Yeah, I remember hearing about that boy at the time… and something else I can't put my finger on. And you said the snake was the last watcha-ma-call-it thingy that kept… Him alive. Brave lad, there," the elder wizard intoned.
"Horcrux," Dennis mumble and then sat up. "Neville was a bit of alright. Never dealt with him much, but he was nice enough to me. He looked upset when he saw Colin got killed. One thing I can say about him is he's brilliant with plants and flowers. Madam Sprout said she never met a more natural and capable herbologist."
"And you think he can help?"
"There might be stuff in there we don't want to set on fire… or sting us or bite us, Mister Odpadki. Magic plant shouldn't be fooled with."
The pair drove in silence for a few minutes. Dennis knew he asked his employer to delay their schedule, and Mr. Odpadki did not like delays. However, the man also did not like to waste anything. The old adage of one person's trash being another person's treasure came to mind. Dennis could not guess how much extra money his employer gained by plying a careful eye to items his customer unwittingly discarded. Moreover, it pleased Dennis to hear that Mr. Odpadki donated items to a museum. Again, it showed skill at appraisal. While the broomsticks likely did not possess much monetary value, they could be priceless for a museum. Hence, Dennis, himself, learned to approach their assignments with a critical mindset. Furthermore, he and most of his fellow classmates suffered for mistreating plants in Madam Sprout's classes. The idea they would try to tackle a wild garden without understanding the contents gave him pause. He did his duty by his employer, he thought, as he sat in the rumbling truck.
"Right, you make a good point there, Denny. How long do you think it'd take to track him down?" Mr. Odpadki said and requested.
"Maybe an hour at most. I know someone who'll know how I can find him. I'll probably spend more time apparating around," he stated.
"For someone who says he wasn't liked much at school, you kept some good contacts."
"Not everyone was a complete arse. Mostly it was the blokes in my year who were the worst… and quite a few a year ahead of me… and the one behind."
"Yeah, that would make sense. Don't recall much of my classmates two or three years ahead of me," the man replied. "Right. So, where do you need to go?"
"Just some place where I can pop off to the Ministry, but I think we should get a look at the job site first," Dennis suggested.
Mr. Odpadki agreed, and so they spent another twenty-five minutes tied up in the morning traffic around London. The work they performed kept Dennis in close contact with the muggle world, aside from the fact he lived with muggle parents in what he considered one of the most muggle towns in England: St. Albans. Through that contact he gained a deeper and fuller appreciation as to how magic made his life so much easier. It irritated the young man when he heard other witches and wizards complain about their lives. He routinely drew the ire of others of his kind when he began to list the ways in which magi life proved far more comfortable than muggle life. Fear of muggles, which in turn transformed into persistent hostility, seemed a permanent fixture in the magi world.
"Cripes, will you look at that?" Mr. Odpadki hummed when they stood a good five meters from the magical garden.
"That's not just wild," Dennis intoned as he studied the small swath of land that looked like something out of a horror movie.
Before them a roughly ten-meter by six-meter patch of land crackled, hissed, pulsed, and writhed. Periodically it sounded as if a scrum took placed somewhere in the center. Odd fragrances wafted over them when the slight breezed shifted. The entire back half of the house got obscured by a fairly tenacious overgrowth. Several chunks of what remained visible of the house exterior wall went missing. However, the stone fencing, roughly a meter and half tall, remained untouched. No one needed to tell Dennis powerful spells and wards got put in place to hem in the garden. Part of the young wizard's mind feared the day when those spells failed.
"Well, you go off and find the Neville fellow, and, ah, I think I'll go get a nice breakfast someplace," the older man said while staring unblinkingly at the enchanted garden. "Got any muggle cash on you, Denny? Don't think I'll find any of our eating spots around here."
Dennis reached into his pocket, found a folded piece of paper, and hauled it out. He handed his employer the ten-pound note without ever once looking at the man. The strange aromas and undulating greenery transfixed him. It took a couple of minutes to realize something from the garden sought to entrance both of them. It took a force of will to shake himself free of the effect. Then he nudged Mr. Odpadki. The man grunted.
"It's trying to kill us," Dennis said and his voice sound distant to his ears.
"What? This?" Mr. Odpadki murmured.
Dennis did not wait. He grabbed his boss, his friend, by the sleeve and dragged him further away from the garden. When five more meters separated them from the verdant tract, the fog began to lift from his brain. Mr. Odpadki also began to revive. After a minute they stared at one another.
"Great Barnaby, Denny! What would've happened if we stepped in there?"
"Probably wouldn't ever leave. I'm willing to wager some folk met their end in that place," Dennis responded. "Neville'll know what to do."
"Better make it quick," Mr. Odpadki enjoined him. "I'll just be 'round the corner someplace close. Look for Kate."
It took half a minute to find a location where it seemed neither cameras nor people would spot him. Given his current situation with Cam and the Ministry, Dennis did not want to commit another infraction. Once certain no one could see him, Dennis folded and twisted into space as he mentally performed the disapparation spell. Seconds later he appeared on one of the Ministry of Magic's apparation platforms. Dennis never did figure out how the marble daises managed to automatically direct incoming traffic, and it impressed him quite a bit. He always liked well-executed practical applications of magic. Habit born of many visits forced his feet to move before the attendant could yell at him. Prior heading into the main thoroughfare, Dennis checked his wand at the security station so they could record his arrival and presence.
He got halfway across the central plaza when a man in dark, rich robes stopped him and crossly said: "Could you please get the memo team to look at our offices? There's a dead spot in the transit stream and the messages are piling up on Reschevar's desk!"
"Fix it yourself," Dennis snapped at the man.
"Who is your supervisor?" Demanded the man who thought himself important.
"Mariusz Odpadki, and he's going to tell you to sod off as well!"
The man stepped back and looked ready to explode. A few seconds later, the bright eyes in the sallow skin seemed to recognize his mistake. His face changed to an expression of insult.
"You could've told me you don't work for the Ministry."
"You could've read my patches first 'stead of being a total prat and thinking you can just order anyone around," Dennis returned the volley.
"Some people," the man said in a huff and stormed away.
"Twat," the younger of the two said loud enough to be heard by several others.
His days at Hogwarts made Dennis sensitive to anyone who thought him- or herself better than those around them. The assumption the man made that Dennis worked for the custodial services in the Ministry and could be treated in such a manner rankled the young man to no end. It gave him yet another reason to never work for the Ministry. Thus, he stormed off in his direction. His demeanor seemed to give others pause, and he saw more than a few people suddenly veer away from him. He went to the lifts.
"Hi, Chet," he said to the house elf that elfed the controls of the lift.
"Hey, Dennis. Library?" The house elf named Chet greeted him and asked.
"Naw. Need to go see Hermione Granger, so Home Affairs Office level."
"Sure thing," the elf said and then took a few instructions from other passengers.
The elevator grumbled and jolted when the elf put it into operation. People's hands automatically shot out to brace themselves against the walls. Dennis stood with his feet planted in the appropriate position to accommodate for the sudden, erratic motions. His hands remained jammed in his pockets.
"What's got you chuffed, Dennis?" Chet inquired without turning around to face him.
"Some toff on the main thought I was with services. Tried ordering me around," Dennis stated his complaint.
"You do look the part."
"They wear that deep blue onsie. Chet. This is light gray. How in blazes do they confuse the two?"
Chet snickered in a fashion that indicated he found the error amusing. Given how the majority treated house elves, Dennis could understand the elf's attitude. Few people showed the house elves much respect let alone gratitude for their work. He, however, and at the bidding of Hermione and his mother, tried to befriend as many of the elves as he could. He bought and handed out a variety of sour sweets house elves loved during the Yule season whenever he visited the Ministry. It bought him a fair amount of good will among the vast squad of attending Ministry elves. Most knew Dennis' name.
"Your stop is next," Chet informed him while closing the lift gate after several people disembarked. "What'cha got going on?"
"A pretty vicious garden. Need to get some advice. It might've done in a few people, but we don't know yet," he replied in a casual manner.
Someone to Dennis' left gave out a small gasp while Chet chuckled. The lift rattled and shifted as it moved between floors and landings. It came to a near violent shuddering halt.
"This is yours."
"Thanks, Chet. Give my best to Nedwina," he said to the house elf as he began to walk from the lift.
"Sure, sure, Dennis. Bet she sends the same," Chet gruffly replied.
After months of idle and pleasant chat with the Ministry house elves, Dennis learned they lead rather ordinary lives by human standards. Many cohabited with another house elf in a quasi-married state, although Dennis gleaned their arrangements differed in many important and subtle aspects. First and foremost, elves tended to be more egalitarian with one another than any suspected. Furthermore, equality between the sexes ran ages ahead of the human world. Given that elves worked in subservient positions for the most part, it made sense to Dennis they would not tolerate more of the same from their own kind. Although the basic elf personality tended to run on the surly side, it became readily apparent it acted as a form of self-defense against the casual bias and disdain they faced every day. Hence, Dennis ferreted out the signs when an elf became truly polite. That they used his name when in conversation afforded him the biggest clue. Dennis rarely heard elves address other humans by name. Several names they mispronounced on purpose as a form of protest against those they absolutely did not like. House elves changed after the war.
The Home Affairs Office, the main support branch for the Minister of Magic, always gave the impression of being needlessly harried to Dennis. People scurried, literally in his opinion, like mice fed too much coffee. Of course, he caught on the activity served as an act. Many carried around blank sheets of paper adorned only with the official letterhead. He saw others hunched over with their faces in a file folder only to discovered they worked on The Daily Prophet crossword puzzle, word jumble, or word search. Some even read books that ran far afield of Ministry business. In this way Dennis figured out the Ministry hired far more people than it needed. It seemed to function as a means to occupy the legions of witches and wizards that congregated in London. Dennis thought the whole operation rather suspect.
His pondering lead him to the door of the Junior Assistant Deputy Minister for Home Affairs. A panel of frosted glass with Hermione's full name painted in black letters faced him. Dennis noticed anew someone misspelled her first name by transposing the conjoined vowels. He knocked at the door and waited.
"Enter," Hermione's voice rang out.
Dennis opened the door and poked his head into the crack. He found a lone desk surrounded by filing cabinets and stacks of folders. Behind the desk sat a thin young woman with tamed bushy hair who slowly dragged her eyes away from the papers she read. Unlike most in the office, Hermione actually attended to Ministry business. When she saw him, her face broke into a smile. Even wearing a pinstriped gray skirt-suit under her black robes, providing her with the austere and severe appearance of Ministry official, could not eradicate the sincere warmth radiating from her face.
"Dennis! My word, it's good to see you! Come in, come in," she said and beckoned him.
Dennis squeezed his rather slender frame into the cramped office. A lone wooden chair sat in front of Hermione's desk, and she waved her hand toward it. He sat in the offered chair and got a reminder the Ministry spared no expense for the discomfort of their junior personnel. The straight-backed chair would discourage anyone from sitting in it for too long. In the meanwhile, Hermione moved stacks of paper around in an effort to clear a path between them so they could face one another.
"Dennis, did you come to see me about your hearing, because I can't…" Hermione began in a plaintive manner.
The younger magic user held up a hand to forestall her apologies and replied; "No. Actually, I'm trying to forget that for a bit. 'Sides, I knew you wouldn't be allowed to talk to me about the… case."
"I'm so sorry," she managed to wiggle the apology into the exchange. "So, what does bring you here?"
"Was wondering if you could tell me where I can find Neville Longbottom."
"Neville? Yes, he's doing research at the Herbavarium for the Scamander Preserve. Why are you looking for Neville?"
Hermione sounded confounded and even wore the correct expression.
"Seems we got into something a little bigger than we thought," Dennis answered.
The young woman sat up in her chair and fixed him with a look.
"It's not a Ministry job, and that's why I need to find Neville. It's a magical garden gone wild, and I want to see if he can help us…"
"The trash collection company," Hermione interjected at though the memory just hit her.
"Yeah, Rapid Removal… Mariusz Odpadki…"
"That's right. That limnad in the reservoir was… well, people noticed your company took care of it without much fuss."
They eyed one another for a moment, and then each began to smirk.
"Now, off the record, what is it you're dealing with?" The junior official returned to the main point. She maintained a neutral demeanor.
Dennis gave her the few scant details he collected, and stated he thought the garden to be a serious danger that might possibly already killed people. Hermione appeared aghast at the story, and her hand automatically reached out for a piece of memo paper.
"Don't," Dennis half-demanded and half-pleaded with her. "Not yet at least. Let us figure out what's in there first with Neville's help, and then we'll know whether or not the Ministry needs to hear. Do you know Ministry paperwork is like torture?"
"Goblin influence," Hermione immediately conceded.
"Look, we both know Neville is pretty straight-laced, so he'd come to you anyway if this goes south and is as bad as it might be, but Odpadki is still running a business. If his customers think we go running for the Ministry every time we come up on something nasty, I'll be looking for a new job tomorrow."
"Then why'd you come here first?"
"Remember the bit about needing to find Neville 'cause I got all sleepy and lost concentration?"
Hermione made an oh-face.
"I figured you'd know how to get a hold of him. That was my real objective… but I trust you enough to tell you what's going on," Dennis reminded her.
His words made and impact, and Hermione softened her posture.
"Now, trust me when I say we'll contact the Ministry when we uncover the truth and it needs to be reported."
"And you already know you couldn't stop Neville… but maybe you could," she said and narrowed her eyes. "You know your way around charms, Dennis. From everything you told me this last year, I'm willing to bet you're a sight better than me."
Dennis snorted at the idea he might best the smartest witch to graduate Hogwarts in a generation. However, Hermione's disposition did not change. She levelly gazed at him.
"You work out in the field. You deal with real dangers all the time. I charm a quill every now and then, and I'm well out of practice, Dennis. If half the rumors about what you do for the spirits at Hogwarts…"
"What rumors?" Dennis interrupted her.
Dennis listened as she explained that the students and teachers talked about his visits to the school, with Professor Flitwick, and with the ghosts. Once more she pressed him with a beseeching look when she mentioned Peeves, and Dennis felt the Unbreakable Vow worm around in his brain. However, he would never betray his poltergeist friend in that manner with or without the binding spell. Hermione desisted after a few seconds when he sat passively before her.
"Says a lot about you," she quietly commented, and her words did not imply condemnation. Then she coughed a little. "Now, do you know where the Herbavarium is located?"
Five minutes later Dennis left her office with a promise to report what they discovered and how they resolved it. He believed she would not divulge the activity to her Ministry superiors until she received word. Hermione joined him in bemoaning the amount of paperwork required to document the find and the situation. Secondly, each opined Neville Longbottom would be able to discern the best course of action given his abundant love of all things that grew from the soil, sometimes in the air, and his desire to preserve every scrap of it. Thus, Dennis departed the Home Affairs Office for the apparating pads.
It took three disapparations to reach York and ultimately Newton-upon-Rawcliffe in the Cropton Forest section of the North York Moors National Forest. The Herbavarium situated itself north of Levisham Station of the North Yorkshire Moors Railway in an area that provided a wide range of environments wherein to practice herbology. Dennis could not fail to note the green, lush beauty of the area and suspected Neville Longbottom found his own little slice of heaven. The Herbavarium sat nestled between the Rumbard Snout Wood and Levisham Moor. He needed to follow Hermione's very specific instructions in order to locate the research center and find the entrance. It proved so heavily disguised even wizarding folk would easily overlook it. When he did spot it, Dennis knew he came to right place.
"Hello?" An older woman said when he entered the foyer of the building carefully guarded by magic.
"Uh, yes, hello," Dennis mumbled as he stepped forward to the receiving desk. "Um, Assistant Deputy Minister Granger told me I could find Neville Longbottom here. I really need to speak to him."
"And… this concerns… what?" The fit woman with iron gray hair intoned the question as if she did not believe he came with a real purpose in mind. She eyed his coveralls at the same time.
"It concerns a plot of land with a magical garden gone wild, and Neville was the best herbology student at school…"
"You attended school with Neville?"
"Three years behind him, but, yeah, we went to Hogwarts together. Tell him Dennis Creevey is here to see him," Dennis said with growing ire in his voice. He threw a cross expression at the woman.
"One moment," she dismissively stated. "I'll see if he… remembers you."
Dennis ground his teeth at the not-so-subtle insult. The woman, dressed in robes that ranged in color somewhere between deep khaki and hunter green, glanced at a bench set along one wall. Dennis got the hint, but he ignored it and remained standing at the desk. He wanted her to know she could not bully him. The attendant turned and exited the small receiving room. Dennis stood privately fuming at her demeanor. The minutes ticked by as he waited.
"Dennis Creevey?" A familiar voice he last heard years before said as a tall, lean body stepped through the door.
"Hi, Neville," Dennis said and raised a hand. He goggled at the physical transformation the young man underwent in the last few years. His body reacted to the sight.
"Wow, I haven't seen you in – what? – well, since the end of the battle. How've you been?" Neville asked and extended a hand when he reached the counter.
Dennis took it in his and gave the appendage a squeeze. A rather powerful grip responded. He could feel the roughness of the skin against his own rough skin. It meant Neville got his hands dirty and did physical work.
"Better since graduating," Dennis freely admitted, "and I think I've got something that might interest you."
"Anything to do with this?" The slightly older wizard asked and, after releasing the handshake, pointed to the coveralls.
"Perceptive!"
They both chuckled.
"And, well, yes," Dennis rejoined. "We got a job to clear away a magical garden, but… see, the owner died a few years ago and his children didn't keep up with it. It's gone wild, Neville, and I mean really wild."
"In what way?"
Dennis repeated his story and tried to not embellish the details. He spoke again of his worry the garden lured animals and people to it, induced a lethargic state, and then attacked. Unlike most people who might laugh at the tale, Neville became quite somber. He listened, and then asked a few probing questions. Unfortunately, Dennis could not provide much more information. When the summary concluded, the herbologist held his gaze.
"Normally I'd say it's amazing, but it lures and traps. That's not good. And the magical wall won't last too much longer if it's already taking the house apart," Neville said and confirmed what Dennis speculated. "How long has it been left alone?"
"At least two years from what I saw on the paperwork. Could be longer. I don't know when the owner died," Dennis said and rose to his level of ignorance on the subject.
Dennis saw Neville stare at a stain on the left shoulder of his coveralls, expertly tailored by Mrs. Odpadki to fit his frame, and slip into silence. Since it seemed readily apparent the man thought the matter over, Dennis remained silent.
"This won't be good. I hate it when amateurs get carried away. Give me a minute to get some tools, and we'll go take a look," Neville said when he suddenly snapped into focus.
"We'll make sure you get paid for your time, Neville," Dennis offered without really thinking it through.
"I don't care about that. I'm more worried a carnivorous plant took over in that plot. If the owner was hobbyist, he… she might've crossbred some species that shouldn't be anywhere near one another for this very reason."
The degree of seriousness with which the handsome, tall young herbology wizard took the situation gave Dennis heart. He also rather enjoyed studying the changes in Neville. He could barely see the once round, timid Hogwarts student the man outgrew. Without asking anything further, Neville departed through the door from which he entered the waiting room. Dennis stood and waited in silence. Nearly ten minutes later Neville reemerged wearing a different set of clothes and a heavy jacket, all but muggle in appearance, and carried a small canvas rucksack. He pivoted toward a break in the counter and came to stand next to Dennis.
"Ever side-apparate anyone before?" Neville inquired and held out a hand.
"A few times," Dennis answered and held out his arm. Neville took hold with a sure grip, causing butterflies to emerge in Dennis' stomach. "Going to be at least four jumps. We're heading to the south of London?"
"Only four?"
"I've been getting around a bit since leaving Hogwarts. Hold on."
With that, Dennis focused his mind and aimed for the York Apparation Station. From there he bounced the two of them to Nottingham, and a different feeling entered the wizard's gut. After that the jump to his favorite St. Albans location taxed his range, and finally to the blind alley in Wadsworth Common. When they arrived, Neville leaned against the wall and looked a little green around the jowls. Dennis felt a tad woozy himself, but months of popping around England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales gave him a heavy tolerance for apparation sickness. Neville, it appeared, did not apparate as much.
"Sorry, Neville," Dennis said with real contrition. "I, ah, get around a fair bit by apparating. Didn't think to give you a breather in between jumps."
"Holy Thurston, my whole body feels like it's spinning… twisting," Neville gasped out the words.
"Didn't get splinched, did you?"
"Give me a second to find my feet."
Dennis waited while Neville struggled with the aftereffects of multiple translocations.
"Tell you what. Stay here and get your breath while I go find Mister Odpadki. He's close by, and he needs to be here. It's his job. I'll only be a few minutes," Dennis suggested.
"Take your time, Dennis. Seriously."
Dennis wondered if the young man might throw up. It sometimes happened after a lot of apparating and disapparating. He patted Neville on the shoulder and headed toward the alley exit. Before stepping out, he used his wand and the Revelio charm to locate Mr. Odpadki. His wand quickly spun in the direction of the man, and the speed at which the spell located him indicated a close proximity. Dennis set off in search of his employer.
Ten minutes lapsed before Kate rumbled into the lot next to the house with the dangerous garden. Dennis and Mr. Odpadki found Neville standing fifteen meters from the southwest wall goggling at the overgrowth. The two other men quickly joined him.
"This isn't good," Neville said and skipped over introductions.
"Um, Neville, this Mariusz Odpadki, owner of Rapid Removal," Dennis began the introductions. "Mister Odpadki, Neville Longbottom, best damn herbology student I ever saw."
"This isn't herbology, Dennis," Neville retorted without looking at them.
"Then what is it?" Mr. Odpadki inquired.
"Madness. Pure madness. Whoever did this raised these plants to kill. Whoever it is magicked the area so the conditions remain optimal at all times."
Neville tilted his face upward and inhaled.
"There's some type of matricaria recutita crossed with melissa officinalis… lavender. That's the attractant… for people at least. And… and… I think somnusiam poenitetia. That's illegal to grow outside of pharmacology plots," the herbologist among them recited.
"And?" Dennis prodded.
"Like you said: this is a lure and a trap. The somnusiam poenitetia, sleepers regret, will knock you out after a few minutes if you stand too close and inhale too deeply. That's what the chamomile and lavender encourages a person to do. Then… whatever else is in there probably grabs the body before the person can wake," Neville explained, and his tone grew darker. "If there was ever such a thing as dark magic with plants, this is it."
Dennis cast a gaze at his employer, and Mr. Odpadki shot him a worried look. The trio stood watching the overgrown garden as it writhed. Crackling sounds emerged, and it seemed to make all of them nervous. Never again would Dennis doubt plants lived. The sight became oddly transfixing even without the aid of the insidious floral scents. The cold morning pressed on them, but it did not seem to bother the garden. Even more magic appeared to be at work.
"See that vine up there, the one growing into hole by the roof line?"
The other two men followed where the long arm pointed.
"Strangler vine, except you don't see them that thick or… that… rosy in color, and usually it grows along the ground in the shade. It's been modified and selectively bred. That's the trap part," Neville spoke as if talking to himself. He stood on his tiptoes and tried to glance over the wall. "I'm willing to bet there's a locilus… coffin plant in there somewhere. It's the only flora the strangler vine wouldn't try to destroy as competition. They become symbiotic after a while, and it's also highly illegal to raise them together. The coffin plant will quickly grow around any dormant living thing it finds like… a coffin."
Dennis felt his mouth fell open and a sense of horror stole through him. Following several seconds of stunned silence, he felt something nudge into his ribs. Dennis jumped to the side, but only found Mr. Odpadki trying to get his attention.
"I think you saved our lives, Denny," the man half-whispered and sounded distressed. "I was… would've just walked right on in there without giving it any thought. Here you thought you might be saving special flowers, but ended up saving us."
"Oh, we're not going to destroy the plants. At least not just yet," Neville said. He turned to them. "This is more than just a hobbyist, gentlemen. This is meticulous planning and careful execution. We'll need to get samples of everything growing in there for study before we cast a freeze spell over the entire plot."
"Wouldn't fire…"
"Only if you want to spread the seeds and let loose Merlin-knows-what toxins into the air. Fire doesn't control, Mister Odpadki: nature actually uses fire. Uses freezing too, but freezing causes dormancy. This'll require very careful handling."
"And not by us?" Dennis' boss queried in a dour manner.
"Only if you want to wind up fertilizer. I can stand back and let you have a go at it," Neville offered in a terse fashion.
The three men stood in the empty lot not too far from the clearly alive garden and regarded one another. Kate rested quietly to one side. The difference in their respective worlds could not be more apparent. Neville came from an academic background by the sounds of it, and Mr. Odpadki, along with Dennis, operated in a work-a-day world that tempered them to the realities of life. Dennis, however, seemed again to straddle the two points. His avocation in helping the ghosts and spirits of Hogwarts meant he spent considerable time in libraries and document warehouses. Hence, he saw down the middle.
"Would you rather be out a morning's pay or your life?" Dennis asked before his boss could return volley.
"You do know you get a finder's fee from the Ministry for locating destructive or hazardous magical plants, especially of this magnitude?" The herbologist questioned them.
Dennis and Mr. Odpadki shook their heads from side to side.
"Probably… fifty, closer to seventy-five galleons for this lot. This is an important discovery, gentlemen, and you probably saved quite a few lives aside from your own," Neville told them. "I wonder how this person kept his neighbors from reporting him?"
"Not a big community, this one, so they mind their own business pretty much," Mr. Odpadki guessed in an educated manner. "As long as it didn't trouble anyone, they were probably willing to look the other way. Neighborly. See?"
"I'd wager you're right," the herbologist agreed.
"Did your grandmother ever report a neighbor?" Dennis asked.
Neville turned his long, lean face toward Dennis. A look of complete incredulity settled on it. Dennis glanced around to see if missed anything. However, the young man's facial expression did not change. A small smirk slowly took shape. His brown eyes sparkled with some mischief.
"Augusta Longbottom? You really don't know who she is, do you?" Neville countered through a grin. "My gran would never let a neighbor get away with something like this. She kept a pretty close eye on my garden when I was younger, so… she'd go straight to the Aurors' Office if she saw this place."
Mr. Odpadki suddenly started as if someone hexed him from behind. It got the attention of the other two, but the older man continued to stare pointedly at Neville. Seconds ticked by, and even Dennis grew uncomfortable on Neville's behalf.
"Longbottom, you say?" Mariusz Odpadki half-mumbled. "Been thinking 'bout that since Denny mentioned your name. I remember back in school being forced to memorize the names of pure-blood families like it was something we needed to know, and I remember your last name being on it."
Neville's head drooped for a moment, popped back up with a steely glint in his eyes, and said: "Yeah, that's my family, but I don't give a shit about being on that list. I had to face Voldemort – stop flinching at the name, he's dead – and saw what he thought of pure-bloods. Load of tosh, all it. Dennis' brother got killed because of Voldemort – stop it! – and too many other good people died 'cause that bastard thought blood was so important! I won't have anything to do with it, and I'll have the family name take off the list when Gran passes on!"
Mr. Odpadki leaned away from the fierce heat of Neville's words. Dennis, however, started to smile at his former schoolmate. He liked the fact Neville denounced ranking by blood. Aside from his sexuality at school, some classmates considered Dennis' muggle-born status yet another mark against him. Those people, however, would never speak out against Hermione who shared the same type of lineage. Neville then faced the grinning, living Creevey brother.
"Heard Flitwick say one time you were one of the best in charms he saw in a long while, Dennis, so it just goes to show blood doesn't mean anything. Look at Hermione. Best witch in an age! And if it wasn't for herbology, I'd've flunked out of Hogwarts."
Dennis gaped at Neville's admission. He knew the tall and rather handsome herbologist became a much better wizard after joining Dumbledore's Army; however, Neville continued struggle at times with magic even with training. The statement served to punctuate his assertion one's bloodline meant absolutely nothing when it came to raw magical talent. Following a few more strained moments, Neville calmed.
"All right, can I count on you two to stand guard over this mess? I need to go get some help and notify the Ministry about this clear violation of law. You said you told Hermione, so I'll see her first. Maybe she can help us through the maze of paperwork," Neville directed more than asked.
"We ain't going anywhere," Mr. Odpadki replied, but he still did not look in Neville's direction.
"Won't be more than a half an hour. Promise."
With that, Neville folded in on himself and disappeared with a hiss and pop.
"Rather intense young man," Dennis' boss commented when they stood alone.
"I'd say you pushed one of his buttons," the younger wizard quipped.
Ten seconds later the two burst into laughter over the absurdity of the situation. Neville did get worked up over the issue of bloodlines while standing outside what might prove to be a wholly murderous garden plot. However, his agile and quick demonstration of knowledge regarding flora could not be denied. Moreover, Dennis knew his fellow Hogwarts' graduate made the right decision to notify the Ministry. The job far exceeded either his or Mr. Odpadki's ability to contain. At the edge of his conscious mind, Dennis started to realize he occupied a strange position in life, and one he never dreamed for himself.