[A/N: Thanks to KTMac66 for coming up with this chapter's title even if they didn't realize it! I had a great rant built up in response to a reviewer who complained about my inclusion of recipes into the stories. I decided against responding to it here because I don't want to cause controversy. (You know who you are. If you don't like the recipes, click the back button and go read something else.)]
Chapter 16: Now serving Pickled Toad and a side of bug mash!
Saturday 15 February 1992 Great Hall, breakfast
The weekend edition of the Daily Prophet caused a tumult within the walls of the castle. Ironically, the tumult wasn't against the intended target though. The main article covered last night's Valentine's Ball on the third floor and it was a well-written piece complete with photographs showcasing the highlights of the who's who, what they were wearing, the Ballroom and the adjoining rooms. It was the gossip column attached to it that was the cause of the uproar. Rita Skeeter, long known to be as bloodsucking as her last name would suggest had taken many pokes at the headmaster, the quality of the food and the allegedly unseemly behavior of those children in the lower classes who dared to dance and mingle with those above their station.
Harry listened to Hermione as she read out some of the quotes taken by Skeeter from one 'highly placed Ministry source' who wished to remain anonymous, "It's clear that traditional wizarding values, once adhered to with such reverence, are being thrown away for the fanciful fads of the muggles."
Neville laughed, "It's clear that Skeeter and whoever her source is, never took our Wizarding Customs and Etiquette class! I'm a pureblood and raised to know the customs like the back of my hand and I can state that there was never a time that anyone was behaving improperly."
"I agree, Longbottom," a voice behind them said. Turning in their seats, they spotted Draco ambling over with his own paper in hand, "My parents routinely test me on proper behavior in all social settings and last night was 'picture perfect' in the words of my mother. I had a wonderful time dancing with my muggleborn date for the evening." He gestured to an open seat and was granted leave to sit and join them. "I would suspect that this 'highly placed Ministry source' is just some rabble-rouser who was drunk or looking to stir up trouble for their own gain."
"Who did you take, Draco?"
"Miss Sophie Roper, she's a shy but sweet girl until she gets comfortable with you then she turns into this funny chatterbox talking about some of the weirdest things."
Harry turned to him, "Yeah? Like what?"
Draco shook his head in bemusement, "Some group called 'in synch' or some backstreet boys. It got rather confusing to be honest."
The muggleborn and raised sitting at their table laughed. Harry patted the blonde boy on the shoulder, "Don't feel too bad. I barely take notice of that stuff either. NSYNC and the Backstreet Boys are the names of two 'boy bands.' They allegedly sing and dance a genre known as 'dance pop' and are too sugary sweet for my tastes; I don't really like that kind of noise."
Hermione squealed in indignation and glared at Harry, "The Backstreet Boys is not noise!"
Harry held his hands up in submission, "Sorry Hermione but to me they are. When it comes to music I prefer rock and roll like Queen or AC/DC." Justin was heard lamenting about the recent loss of Freddie Mercury as the greatest disaster to ever occur.
"Hmmm, I may need to listen to these groups. Music in the magical world is rather…limited," Draco commented and Neville agreed.
Gesturing for Hermione to continue, she gave a huff and one last glare at Harry then read on, "This is in response to the leadership and new classes brought in by Headmaster Daggerclaw. 'It's a blatant attempt to pervert the impressionable young minds of our proud, respectable pureblood families. By distracting them with frivolous classes and programs designed to subvert and subject our children to dangerous ideas.'"
A Slytherin seventh year was walking past and heard the comment. He stopped and shook his head at the inanity, "Seriously? Does it say which classes are the dangerous ones?" Hermione re-read the article and shook her head. The seventh year sneered, "Idiot Skeeter; never does her research. I fail to see how the additional general education classes and even the revamped history class are dangerous. If there's one thing you need to learn in this world is that gossip writers are usually the lowest paid and will no doubt look to supplement their income from less reputable sources."
"In other words, they'll write an article regardless of the source for the highest bribe," drawled Harry.
"Here's the 'best' one yet," Hermione interjected, "Our ancient beacon of knowledge and learning has now become a cesspit of fear and loathing. Students are afraid to come forth to demand a return to the old ways ever since a Goblin was installed as Headmaster. We believe he is training his own personal army to over throw the Ministry."
Everyone burst out laughing; some even fell off their seats onto the floor while gasping for air through their wheezing.
"So, I guess you got to the part where I'm training a new Goblin horde out of impressionable students, eh?" They looked up and saw Daggerclaw standing over them with a sardonic grin on his face and carrying a mug of something steaming. He took a sip from the mug and intoned, "I expect that whoever wrote this has a 'battle plan' all worked out on how I'm supposed to accomplish this? Maybe I'm controlling you with lavish parties and a brand-new fitness center?"
More laughter; gesturing to Hermione for her to finish with the rest of the piece, she snorted one more time and continued reading, "This reporter reached out to the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge on his views of the accusations and this is what he was quoted as saying: 'If Headmaster Daggerclaw wants this job, he's welcome to all the paperwork hassles no one ever mentions in the job description! The tea service on level three is out of sugar so what do they do? They send a report to me requesting I do something about it. I got one here from a department head on level two, 'The magical windows are not showing the springtime Welsh landscape like I had requested! Please do something about it!' My job is to create policy that affects the whole country, not deal with piddling little nonsense like this. I don't know who it was that insinuated this garbage that the headmaster is after my job but I am going to make it my personal mission to find out and when I do, they're going to be transferred to the most remote place on this planet!'
"And that boys and girls is why you should never unconditionally believe what you read in the paper, especially the gossip column. Do your own research and make up your own minds." Daggerclaw instructed as he headed back up to the teacher's table.
Later, in the Greenhouses…
Neville came walking into the potter's shed within Greenhouse One and set down his book bag, a travel mug full of roasted tomato soup and his garden tool roll on the counter. He dug around in his bag and pulled out a signup sheet as well as a list of group rules and topics he was going to cover. He turned at the sound of a light tapping on the door and saw Harry. He smiled and waved his friend in, "Hiya Harry! I'm just getting set up. I hope there will be some people interested in getting a gardening club going."
Harry agreed, "Yeah, I've gotten some questions regarding growing the vegetables used in my recipes. I hope that you'll be able to help people learn where their food comes from. You need any help?"
"If you could get some chairs set up?"
Harry busied himself with the task of finding extra chairs and set them up in an arc facing the door while Neville pulled over one of the spare blackboards then hunted for a box of chalk. Students started arriving not five minutes later in drips and drabs. By the time that the appointed time rolled around, the shed was completely full of curious potential green thumbs.
Neville stepped up to the front and steeled himself, "Welcome to the first ever Hogwarts Gardening Club! My name is Neville and I'll be your host for the time being. What I'd like to start everyone off with is just go around the room and hear what everyone here hopes they'll pick up from this meeting?"
The responses ranged from learning how to make their own potted plants grow more effectively to hoping to earn extra credit points for Herbology. Some of the girls wanted to learn how to grow flowers that didn't die every time they transplanted them while one boy wanted to learn how to grow things for his potions experiments.
"That's a good idea; learning where your ingredients come from is beneficial because some apothecary shops aren't always reputable. Do you know what Gillyweed is supposed to look like during its dormant season? Have you ever seen fluxweed in its natural environment? That is some of the things that we will be getting to in our Herbology classes next year but it never hurts to touch on the basics ahead of time."
Neville gestured off to a side bench, "I thought we could start with some basic soil knowledge. Here, I've set up several pots containing soil from the greenhouses. Each one is a different pH level. First question, 'What is a pH level?' A pH level is a measure of how acidic or alkaline your soil is. Additionally, the letters 'pH' stand for 'potential of Hydrogen.' It's a rather complicated to get into for this beginning club so if you're really interested in it, I recommend either stopping by the library or speaking with our general science professor. Why is this important? Well, some plants like a more acidic or alkaline level to achieve the best growth." He circled around the back and demonstrated how to use ordinary kitchen materials like vinegar and baking soda to check for the pH levels in the soil. The kids were scrambling to either get a better look or scribble down notes.
Unbeknownst to everyone, Pomona Sprout was watching the proceedings disillusioned in the back with a large, proud smile on her face.
When the club broke up for the day, Neville was blushing like mad from all the compliments and accolades being heaped upon him. Harry was glad to see his shy friend come out of his shell once in a while; it also gave him the opportunity to shift the spotlight off from himself. It still mystified him that there were some who continued to refer to him as 'The-Boy-Who-Lived.'
"Well Professor Longbottom, that was one enjoyable class you gave," Harry teased his friend. Neville rolled his eyes.
"So what's next for the next meeting?"
Neville shrugged a shoulder, "Haven't the foggiest. I wasn't really expecting that many people to show up. You got any ideas?"
Harry tapped his chin with a finger and looked thoughtful, "Well, how about you start with identifying basic mundane and magical plants that can be easily grown in pots placed in a windowsill? How about… a do-it-yourself grow kit? They each get a small pot, a bag of soil and a variety pack of seeds. The variety pack is organized from easiest to hardest. You could then teach them how to identify what it is they're trying to grow, watering methods and alternatives, understanding the information on the back of the package…that sort of thing."
"Sounds expensive."
Harry shook his head, "Not really. You could go into any muggle gardening shop and pick one up for anywhere between six to fifteen pounds."
Neville looked confused, "What is that in Galleons?"
Harry sighed heavily as he thought of what the conversion was, "Um…five pounds to one Galleon so between roughly one Galleon, four Sickles all the way up to three Galleons, 5 Knuts. Sometimes they can be even more expensive depending on what it is you're growing."
"That's pretty cheap then. What about kitchen waste? Could you do a talk on saving the seeds from your cooking show?"
"I can do that. I've not saved anything recently but that's easy enough to do."
"Great, thanks. Oh! I've been wanting to ask, would you be okay with teaching me how to make bread? I had an idea for garden bread that's pretty to look at as well as eat."
Harry blinked, "Well, what sort of bread were you thinking of using? Not all of them pair well with vegetables."
"Really?"
"Well…I mean there are some that have a texture that is either too delicate for the heavier vegetables like carrots or asparagus and the like. Do you have a picture or recipe I could take a look at?"
Neville dug into his book bag, pulled out the picture and handed it over. Harry examined the picture for a moment and smiled, "Oh, this shouldn't be a problem. Focaccia bread art is what this is called and yes, I can show you how to make your own."
After they got the shed cleaned up and locked, the two boys traipsed their way back to their dorm and dumped their stuff onto their respective beds.
"If you're up for it, I can show you how to make that focaccia bread now?"
Neville grinned, "Let's go."
Harry grabbed his baking book and led Neville to his workstation then started pulling out the ingredients. Neville was going to pull up a stool to watch but Harry stopped him. "Neville, I'm going to have you make it while I watch so you need to come around here."
"O, okay…"
"Relax Nev, it's sort of like Potions but without the hovering dungeon bat breathing down your neck. Prepare the ingredients and mix them together; if you make a mistake, it won't kill you by exploding." Harry chuckled at his friend's alarmed expression, "Here, wash your hands thoroughly with the soap and hot water. If you wash properly, it should take about twenty seconds." He demonstrated what he meant by 'properly.'
Neville took an apron and tied it on then leant over the sink to wash his hands. After he dried them on a towel, he looked expectantly at Harry.
"Now, you have the option of doing this the magical way or the muggle way. The magical way requires a bit of spellcasting while the muggle way achieves the same effect but takes longer."
Neville thought for a moment and sighed, "I want to do it the magical way but I'm no good with a wand so I guess the muggle way."
"Okay but after we're done, I think you should talk to Professor Flitwick about your wand."
"Why?"
"I took a look at it during our last Charms class and it looks rather beat up. There might be internal damage so it couldn't hurt to have the onsite expert in detecting magic to take a look at it. So in the meantime, we'll make the bread the muggle way. I tried making food with magic and frankly, it just doesn't taste as good; I don't know why though."
Neville agreed and prepared himself to follow Harry's directions.
"So, to begin with we need to proof the yeast which is to say that we want to bring it out of its dormant state. In a medium bowl, combine the yeast, warm water and the sugar. Mix it until it's combined and put it aside for about five minutes. In the meantime, you can start choosing some of the vegetables you want to use as a topping. I recommend doing something simple so maybe a small bouquet of flowers?" Neville agreed with that so Harry led him over to the cold storage.
"To make the flowers, you'll need a red onion thinly sliced. Chives or green onions make great stems; parsley and basil make great leaves. Cherry tomatoes sliced length-wise make great flower centers or left whole look good as seed pods. Rosemary and Thyme can be used as miniature plants and add a wonderful seasoning. You can even use deli meats like ham or pepperoni in the design."
"Wow, I had no idea that bread art could be so creative."
Harry laughed, "You have no idea."
After Neville finished selecting which vegetables he wanted, the yeast was proofed and ready to be mixed into the flour. Harry demonstrated briefly how to add the flour without causing a huge cloud of dust then let his friend try it out. Neville added the additional flour, olive oil, salt and the rest of the warm water and mixed it with a spoon until it was formed into a ball. Harry warned him that if the dough was still sticky to add a tablespoon of flour and keep mixing until it pulled away from the bowl cleanly. Once that was achieved it was mixed until the gluten formed. Harry described it as being ready when the surface bounced back when touched lightly.
"Okay, next we need to drizzle a bit of olive oil onto the dough and put it in a bowl then cover it so it can rise for a couple of hours."
"Hours?"
"Yup, muggles don't have a wand to cast magic to make things move faster, remember."
Neville sighed and nodded once decisively, "Okay, I guess during that time you'll teach me how to prepare the vegetables?"
Harry replied, "Yup. Here, take this onion and slice it thinly. It should be just barely thicker than a piece of paper."
By the time that Neville had finished cutting, slicing and carving the vegetables and meats how he wanted them, the dough had risen to double its original size. Harry pulled out a large baking pan and drizzled oil onto it and spread it around with a clean paper towel. He put that aside and turned on the oven to 230 C to get it preheating.
"So, put some oil on your hands to prevent the dough from sticking to them. Take the dough out of the bowl and stretch it to fit the pan. Don't worry if it bounces back, just let it relax for a few minutes then keep going."
Neville grabbed the dough and started stretching it. While he was doing that, Harry kept up a running commentary of some of the other things that he'd come across or heard from others about making bread, "Some bakers would want you to stretch it to fill the pan then cover it and leave it in the fridge to rest and develop more flavor. I've tried that and I've never detected a difference. It's just a matter of time and what else you have planned to do for the day."
"Okay, what's next?"
"Use your fingers and dimple the surface then drizzle yet more oil over the top making sure that the dimples get filled up and sprinkle the whole thing with some coarse sea salt."
"Lots of oil here."
"Yeah, but it's worth it. Finally we get to the decorating part. Arrange the vegetables how you want them to look." Once that was done, Neville slid the sheet into the oven and set the timer for twenty minutes to start, "Okay, let's get started on cleaning up while that's baking."
Twenty minutes later, the bread art came out of the oven golden brown with the vegetables crisp. Neville sliced off a piece and took a bite. His eyes closed and he let out a sigh of contentment, "Oh, my! This is so good!"
March
February ended with a breeze while March rolled in with an explosion of color of flowers and new plant growth of the surrounding landscape. The gardening club was such a rousing success to the point where Neville had to move the meeting place from the potter's shed to an empty classroom adjacent to Professor Sprout's classroom. He decided to go with a modified diy kit from what Harry had suggested in that each interested member of the club who paid five Sickles would receive their own starter kit that would cover the cost of pots, soil, a small handwritten care booklet and a small packet of easy to grow seeds. Harry volunteered his owl to run to Privet Drive to pick up the gardening supplies that Petunia had purchased for them after Harry wrote to her explaining what they needed. The proud look on Hedwig's face when she delivered her packages indicated that she loved every minute of the errand runs. As an added reward once the last package was delivered, Harry and Neville held a small party for the owl; showering her with praise, dancing around her while tossing handfuls of rose petals at her talons while she perched on her favorite roost and hooted her pleasure. Hermione just sat there and laughed at the silly boys' antics.
Harry held a few cooking shows that featured how to harvest and properly store the seeds from the winter vegetables and flowers used in his demonstrations. He later found out from Tiny that the public cook station now had a waiting list for the students who wanted to come in and try their hand at making a meal of their own based on what they learned during his shows.
Ronald Weasley managed to stay on the straight and narrow as best he could. He only had one slip up when he threatened to throw someone out the window but after the incident was investigated using memories and determined that Ron had been trying to study while the offending student, a second year Gryffindor in this case, was hassling him about being a traitor to the Light. Ronald was praised for keeping his cool (despite the words used) while the offender was put in detention for a week.
Hermione was once again asked to consider attending a Quidditch practice session by the Hufflepuff Captain but he was denied. She told him point blank that chasing after a golden walnut at breakneck speeds while someone was bashing a cannonball at her just didn't hold any appeal. "If you have anyone that wishes to set up an obstacle course like the one we had last year between Harry and I, then I might be tempted."
Millicent Bulstrode was curious as to what her new exercise clothes looked like when she received the package care of Hermione Granger. It was a learning experience for sure after she put on the leggings then the leotard then laced up her new trainers. The neon orange spandex practically blinded her when she removed the lid to the box as did the sparkly leggings. She tied her hair back and examined herself in a mirror, 'Ha! If my parents saw me wearing this, I would've been disowned on the spot!' When she walked into the weight room, it felt like everyone was staring at her (they were). That staring soon went from her outfit to her routine as she began to bench press the dumbbells in smooth repetitions over her chest, the muscles in her arms flexing and becoming more pronounced. Several of the other girls marveled at her strength and stamina as she continued her circuit training around the room then hit the track for five laps. After her post-workout shower, Millie stood in front of the mirror to examine her physique. She flexed her arms and grinned at how powerful she looked, 'Look out world, here comes Millie Bulstrode!'
Second floor hallway, Hogwarts near the general education classrooms
'Hey, idiot! Unless your nappy is full, pull up your trousers!'
'Give it up loser, she doesn't want flowers. Give her a shiny knut instead!
'You look like a clown with all that paint on your face!'
'Oi, Ugly! Somewhere in France, a castle is missing a gargoyle!'
Harry was struggling to hold himself up against a wall next to a painting of a cobra and giggling his head off at some of the rude and jeering comments being hissed at the crowds as they passed by. Hermione spotted him and hurried over.
"What's so funny, Harry?"
With a big grin still plastered on his face and wheezing from the exertion, Harry pointed to the cobra who was now insulting a group of Ravenclaws, "You know…that language ability…I have?" She nodded, "Well, this cobra painting…haha…has been hissing out insults and commentary on everyone who's been passing by. It's hilarious!"
'Hey lardass! Food is meant to be eaten, not splattered across your robes!'
Harry let out a strangled snort, his eyes bugging out a bit as he stuffed his fist into his mouth as he finally sank to the floor in laughter. Hermione looked nonplussed, "More insults?" He could only nod rapidly, his eyes squeezed shut; squeaking and snorting his response.
Staffroom, lunch time
Filius had just entered the room when the smells of the food hit his nose. He inhaled deeply as he dropped into his favorite chair, "Mmmm…what is that heavenly aroma?"
"Smoked cheesesteak sandwiches," came the reply from Minerva who dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, "Another of Mr. Potter's creations."
"May I get a house-elf please?" he called out to the room at large.
An elf popped in a moment later, "Yes, sir?" It squeaked.
Filius pointed to the sandwich that Minerva was eating, "Would you see if Mr. Potter made more of those sandwiches and if he did, would you please bring me one plus a side order of crisps and a cup of tea?" The elf bowed and vanished. A few minutes later and the plate of food along with his cup of tea appeared on the side table next to him. He picked up the sandwich and took a bite, his eyes immediately closing in deep pleasure, "Oh, I think I've died and gone to culinary heaven…"
The others laughed at his comment. Pomona quipped, "Wait until you try his peppermint ice cream."
Filius' eyes grew large, "No… really?"
She nodded and took another bite of her sandwich. After swallowing she replied that he had made a large batch of it to test out the glacius charm. Filius laughed and remarked that that was an excellent real world usage of the charm!
When he called for the dessert to be delivered, Filius once again moaned about how his waistline was going to double in size if he weren't careful. The sinfully delectable ice cream was a light pink in color and topped with crushed red and white striped candy canes. He took a small scoop and savored the rich and creamy texture of the treat.
"Ten points to Harry Potter and his marvelous usage of the glacius charm!"
While Filius was savoring his sweet dessert, others weren't as lucky…
Ministry for Magic
Dolores Umbridge was on a mission. The newspaper article from Skeeter was a good start but now she needed to visit the Heads of those families who would be the most offended by the mudbloods intruding into their world. She sneered at the memory of Lord and Lady Malfoy's shameful behavior to her presence and her perfectly understandable reactions to being snubbed by those despicable vermin at the party. 'Those elves should've punished themselves on the spot for their insolence. Then for that damned Goblin to take a witch's wand!' That rankled her the most; she'd had to go to him and apologize for creating a scene just to get it back then suffer the indignity of being asked to leave the event early. 'I also have to scratch the Malfoy family off my list. They're no longer a proper pureblood family. A shame really, they had such fine breeding until these so-called 'progressive' measures came around.'
After visiting the offices of Nott, Yaxley, Parkinson and McLaggen Dolores was beginning to feel that there was a deeper conspiracy going on within the Ministry. Each of the Heads of those families had laughed in her face when she spoke about how the old ways were being trampled on by the mudbloods and blood traitors. Thaddeus Nott even called her 'a fool and out-of-touch!'
"Dolores, what you fail to realize is that ever since the start of September of last year, the traditions and old ways are actually being adhered to better than ever thanks to the new Wizarding Customs and Etiquette class that's being taught at Hogwarts. My son has written to me about the program and invited me to take part in a couple of classroom scenarios."
"Surely you can't think that…" she tried but he interrupted her.
"The muggleborns have been at a disadvantage because of our own foolishness. They muddle along trying to fit in but have had no training that our own children get from the time that they're toddlers! It's one thing if their behaviors were intentional but from what I learned is that the traditions and customs that we hold onto are considered antiquated and no longer used. It's no wonder they consider us to be the backwater simpletons."
Dolores huffed, "As if! We are the shining beacon for all things magical while those animals scratch in the dirt."
Thaddeus leaned forward over his desk, "If that's true then where are our gleaming cities full of towers made from glass and steel, hmm? I, along with several other Dark family Heads, were offered a chance to visit London properly and I have to say that the description of those muggles scratching in the dirt and living in hovels is blatantly wrong. If anything, it is we who continue scratching in the dirt to live in the small farming villages compared to our muggle counterparts."
"But…"
Thaddeus held up his hand to stop her from continuing, "I'm still a conservative member of the Wizengamot and would prefer if the muggleborn were to leave our world after they get enough training to control their magic but to think that the muggleborn and their modern ways are out to destroy our way of life is just ludicrous and I will not be party to whatever schemes you've concocted in that twisted mind of yours."
Dolores stood and straightened herself up as tall and imposing as she could (which wasn't all that much), "So that's it then? You're throwing your lot in with the blood-traitors and other filth? I had such high hopes that you and the others would remind the riff-raff just what it means to be pure." She stormed out of his office and slammed the door behind her.
Thaddeus stared at the closed door then shook his head as he moved over to the floo, "What an idiot."
Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge's office
"Thank you for the heads up, Thaddeus. I'll make sure that she's…contained." Cornelius ended the call and leaned back in his chair. After a moment contemplating what to do, he got up and headed outside. His musing took him to the Floo Network Authority department head, Charles Ackerly.
Cornelius knocked on the doorframe, "Chuck, you got a minute?"
Charles looked up in surprise, "Minister! Sure, come in and have a seat. This is unexpected; what's wrong?"
"I have a problem in the form of a squat witch who seems hell-bent on causing a ruckus."
Charles snorted indelicately, "What's The Toad done now?"
Cornelius raised an eyebrow, "The Toad? Heh, that's a good one. Frankly, she's been making insinuations that the headmaster of Hogwarts is angling for my job, the muggleborns are trampling all over our traditions and as far as I know are building an army to wipe out all purebloods."
Charles shook his head, "Idiot. So what do you need from me?"
Cornelius looked at the board that displayed every major floo node within the network, "What's the farthest anyone can floo?"
Charles looked skyward for a moment searching his memory, "Um…Dunquin, I think? Westernmost settlement in Ireland. You thinking of shipping her off to somewhere remote?"
Cornelius nodded, "Yes, preferably somewhere that it would be extremely difficult to travel to and from. Slow communication with the outside world, that sort of thing."
Charles got up and retrieved his copy of transport stations. He tapped the index with his wand and the pages flew by until it stopped and a map appeared. He smiled toothily, "Here we go. Just the right sort of out-of-the-way place too. The island of Tristan da Cunha, located in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean several thousand miles from Cape Town, South Africa. Only way in or out is by muggle boat and that only runs on a once a month schedule."
"What was it originally used for?"
Charles turned the page, "It was used as a portkey waypoint back in the early days of long distance transport. The station was abandoned when portkey cartography became more accurate but it shouldn't be too difficult to get the place back up and running."
"What about owl communications?"
"Weather is too harsh for them to travel safely that far south. Normally when we need to send an owl to South America, we send the owls to the closest separation of the two continents."
"Won't she suspect something isn't right when she gets to the station and sees what condition it's in?"
"Who is she going to complain to? The few muggles that live on the island know about the station and about magic in general but don't really care."
"Really? I would've thought that the Obliviators would've had a problem with it?"
Charles shrugged, "Not my call."
Cornelius nodded thoughtfully and rose to his feet, "Thanks, Chuck. I appreciate your help."
"Any time, Minister."
Three days later
Dolores Umbridge blinked as the maelstrom of magical portkey energy finished swirling around her and glanced around at the dusty and dingy room she was now standing in. The minister had said that he was in need of someone with her qualifications to run a secret outpost designed to spy on the comings and goings of a political rival in Cape Town, Africa. On the surface, it seemed to be a wonderful reassignment and she'd jumped at the chance to get away from that bug-infested swamp of Brazil. Now she wasn't so sure…
After poking around a bit and using her wand to clear away some of the dust and debris, she concluded that she'd been swindled. The map on the wall was faded but clearly out of date by at least a hundred years, there were no provisions in the pantry nor was there a floo connection (she'd find out later owls didn't come to the island if they could help it.) She tried to send a letter via portkey but discovered that it didn't work! 'I'm trapped here! There's got to be a magical way off this blasted hunk of rock!'
She waddled out to the only town and demanded to board the ferry back to the mainland just to discover that it was only available once a month and that she had another two weeks before it arrived. She grew irate and demanded to speak with whoever was in charge but the dockmaster laughed at her before stating he was the one in charge!
"That's not possible! I was told that you muggles were simple villagers and that I would be in charge. I demand you get someone to bring me food and supplies." She tried to cast an Imperious Curse at the man but nothing happened. The dockmaster lifted a pendant from under his shirt and grinned evilly. Staring between him and her wand in horror, she fled back to the station.
When it was clear that the Toad was no longer within hearing range, another man exited the harbor office shack and approached the dockmaster, "Everything clear, Governor?"
The now revealed Governor turned at the sound of the voice and grinned at the real dockmaster, "Thanks to the Ministry for Magic, it is now. It should be fun to see how that Toad likes living on the most remote island in the South Atlantic with a bunch of muggles and Squibs!"
"What about the station? Did the Ministry change the portkey registration?"
The Governor was still chuckling over the Toad's reaction to his lack of one to the Imperious curse, "Yup. All portkeys on and off the island chain are now useless."
The dockmaster gestured to the pendant around the Governor's neck, "So that's the Mind Protection pendant then; any chance we all can get one?"
The Governor looked it over and shrugged, "It's not actually real. When the Portkey Department arrived, they also brought some of those hooded beings from the Department of Mysteries. I don't know what all they did but the entire island is now warded against her magical signature. She can't cast any magic beyond first year level spells. I think we'll just make some local copies that only appear to be the same one. Let her infer that we're all protected. It'll just add to her paranoia."
Daily Prophet Offices, Barnabus Cuffe Chief Editor
"Rita! Get in my office!"
Rita entered with a curious look on her face; it was unusual for Barny to demand her presence in his office. He usually just yelled out the door, "Yes, sir?"
Barnabus held up the paper that contained her article blasting the Ministry and Hogwarts and growled, "You care to explain how this garbage got past me and the other proofreaders?"
"You had already left for the night; I didn't want to disturb you at home for such a simple article."
Barnabus rolled his eyes and sneered at his reporter, "I just got off the floo with the Minister and he's been calling for someone's head on a platter for those 'baseless insinuations.' I don't want to fire you since you have potential to become a good reporter. I'm reassigning you to Page Temple's old column now that she's retired."
Rita's eyes went wide and she screeched, "Page Temple?! She ran the gardening column! You can't do this to me! This is outrageous! You actually want me, your star reporter, to cover such boring things like the next tea parties and blossom sales?"
Barnabus scrubbed his face with his hands, leant back in his chair and held his arms out wide, "It's only temporary and until the heat blows over, Rita. Heck, think of it as a paid vacation if you want. Everyone enjoys a trip out to the countryside. Now get going."
Portsmouth Harbor, England
Peter Pettigrew, recent escapee from the Ministry of Magic was currently on a mission of his own. He was holed up underneath a dive bar in Portsmouth and contemplating what his next move should be. After his arrest and subsequent closed door trial, he had been found guilty of numerous charges including being a Death Eater, the betrayal and murder of the Potters, the murder of twelve muggles. He'd been sentenced to life in Azkaban and was in the process of being transported there to the ferry when he knocked the guard over and escaped the prisoner transfer tunnels by changing into his rat form. Since the guards had no hope of intercepting him and because they didn't want to be reprimanded for letting him escape, they logged the disturbance as a rough landing. (One guard managed to ensnare a bird and transfigured into a reasonable resemblance to Peter which they handed over to the prison officials.)
So now, Peter had a decision to make. Did he want to try and find his Master and live the life of a servant or did he want to just escape to some far-flung land and be free of his past? 'Seriously this ought to be an easy choice, Pete.' A voice sounding awfully similar to James Potter rattled in his head. 'What has serving Voldemort really gotten you? A life of pain and suffering if you did something to displease him? No friends or family left in the UK so why not try somewhere fresh?'
Peter transformed back into his human form and found a travel agency located near the docks. He was perusing the brochures when the agent asked if there were something he could assist with?
Peter sighed, "I want to go somewhere fresh and start over. My life here has been one failure after another."
"Any particular climate you're interested in? Do you prefer the city or the country? Temperate or tropical? Sparsely or densely inhabited?"
After answering the agent's questions that he was looking for something opposite to what life was like here in Britain, the agent suggested Australia. It was a modern industrialized nation, plenty of open space to disappear into, warm climate, beautiful two-legged wildlife (said with a wink).
"How much would it cost to board a ship to get there?"
The agent looked surprised, "A ship? Well, it depends on your budget but an airplane would be much faster, you know."
Peter looked uncomfortably down briefly at his feet, "I couldn't begin to afford a ticket on an airplane. I was hoping to trade some labor for passage on a freighter."
Finally understanding, the agent looked through his books and recommended a freighter company who was always willing to give the unfortunate a chance. With the information in hand, Peter sought out the appropriate dock.
Australia beckoned.
[A/N2: So instead of following the 'standard' route of Peter trying to search for his old Master and bring about the Second Rise of Voldemort; I felt that he needed a change of scenery. Can you just picture a wheezy, out of shape Peter Pettigrew sweating his arse off herding sheep in the Outback or something after 40+ days at sea?]
Recipes:
Roasted Tomato Soup (mention only, Yummly)
Focaccia Bread with vegetable art (Google)
Smoked Cheesesteak Sandwich (mention only, Better be Grilled Channel on YouTube)
Peppermint Ice Cream (mention only, recommended by reader RoyalCrimsonCloak)
