The investigation into Lord Thomas North's demise crawled nearly to a halt. Mr. Odpadki took a greater liking to Dennis and began to increase the number of specialized waste removals. Dennis worked all five of the weekdays the following week after discovering Thomas' daughter continued to exist in their world. On the odd afternoon he got free, he would go to either the Ministry library or back to Nottingham to conduct research, but the hours spent did not yield much. He enjoyed a meal with Cameron during the midweek night, but could not stay to enjoy other pleasures.
June ended and July became the new calendar.
"Love, still researching?" His mother asked from the doorway as he sat in his room on a hot Thursday evening. Thunder rumbled in the distance after she spoke.
"Just doesn't add up, Mum. I think I'm going need to talk to Thomas again and try get some information out of him." Dennis told her.
During the last week of June he got forced into explaining his long daily absences from home. They learned about his investigation into the Hogwarts' ghost's death. For reasons Dennis could not fathom, that barely caused them to raise an eyebrow. He suspected they thought his inquiry into the Lord North situation would not lead to any danger since it went unsolved for almost two-hundred and fifty years. However, Dennis also let slip about meeting Cameron in Nottingham, and they took immediate interest in that subject. Dennis spent a grueling evening under intense questioning about Cameron Vall. The saving grace came when Dennis told them Cameron apprenticed to become a plumber, a vocation both his parents could appreciate and understand. He did not need to tell them he never told Cameron about his status as a wizard.
"But the curse?" She warily inquired.
"Won't ever affect me," he mumbled, and that triggered a new thought in his head. He furrowed his brow and said: "Just came up with something. Thomas told me he was a wizard: a lord who used his magic when he could."
He paused.
"And?" His mother prompted.
"So, that means whoever did this to him was also a wizard… or a witch, and probably knew he was one, too. I wonder if Thomas knew this person was magical?"
"You should ask him."
"'Cept the curse means he can't talk about it," he reminded her.
"Well, you said you found his daughter," and Jill Creevey still sounded perplexed by the notion the woman did not exist in the world in a proper fashion, "maybe she knows something."
"I kind of asked if she knew anything, but she didn't say much."
"Did you ask her about other witches and wizards she might've known?"
The blank stare Dennis presented his mother answered for him. She shook her head while a smile grin played on her lips. Any discussion that touched on magic tended to raise other subjects touching on magic. The woman's grin slipped into a frown.
"Now what, Mum?" Dennis inquired in hesitant voice as he shifted around on his bed.
"No more putting your coveralls in the wash bin 'les you're going to wash them right then and there. Scared the life out of me when I lifted the cover and they hopped out and ran across the room. What in the name of god where you dealing with?" His mother complained, explained, and questioned.
"Got more work removing sludge pits. Seems Mister Youngblood let others know what we can handle. Mister Odpadki was pretty happy about that. He gets to charge a pretty fair amount for those jobs," he told her.
"And I hope he's paying you fairly out of that!"
"Mum, you already know how much he's paying. I actually have a real bank account now. It's got real money in it!" Denis happily stated.
"Well, does that mean you're going to chip in some now? Water charge is getting pretty high what with you taking more showers and washing clothes," she said with more than one question in her words.
"Yeah, I think I can," he tentatively agreed while staring at the ceiling and doing a rough calculation. "Um, how does twenty-five quid a week sound?"
"What's that in your money?"
Dennis scrunched up his face as he did a rough calculation since the exchange rate changed all the time by small increments and replied: "Ah… little over five galleons."
"Well, you said he's paying you about two galleons an hour… sixteen a day if you do an eight-hour stretch, meaning…" and she, too, tilted her head up for a second. "And that's about eighty galleons a week."
"But it's not every day, Mum, and not always a whole day. I'd say I'm making 'round eight to fifteen galleons a day right now."
"Let's split difference and say eleven for an average, so that's still fifty-five a week."
"Oh, alright, fifty pounds a week," he said before she could draw out the negotiation.
His mother looked affronted.
"What? Seventy-five?" Dennis quickly increased his offer.
"No, Love. We're not trying to soak you for money when you just got your first honest job," she said in an semi-aggrieved manner. "Dennis, twenty-five quid is more than fair for your share. Plus, you do help out around the house a good bit when you're home. I'm only trying to ease you into getting used to paying for your own keep."
He nodded, and it seemed another topic about which he remained woefully ignorant. It came as a shock to him after the Battle of Hogwarts to find out the school paid all the fees for both Colin and him to attend. Moreover, they also paid a survivor's benefit to his parents when Colin got killed in the war. He did not know how much it cost to bury his brother. He did not even like to think about it. At the same time, he never fully appreciated how much it might cost to raise a child. Dennis heard his parents complain about bills from time to time, but not often. The family seemed to live well within their modest means.
"Thirty," Dennis said after a second of reflection.
"Alright, thirty quid," his mother agreed. "But you let us know straight off if things get tight for you. Not sure what you're going to do with it, but seems sensible for you to start banking your wages."
"Probably get my own place someday," her son said in an off-hand fashion. Dennis saw her reaction. "Mum, honestly. You think I'm going to live with you and Dad forever?"
The woman blinked a few times.
"Maybe you did, but… well, what if I want to have Cam over?"
"It'd be lovely to have him 'round for supper," she responded in the genial British mother way that made absolutely no promises whatsoever.
Dennis continued to stare at her in a pointed way. She started to shift around on her feet. Then she crossed her arms over her upper stomach. It took another two seconds before his mother's eyes went wide with understanding.
"Ooh, that!" She blurted the words. "That. Well… that. I see what you mean. Be kind of awkward, wouldn't it?"
"Not for me," he retorted with a shrug. "But I'd need to get a bigger bed and…"
"Alright, enough! I get the picture," his mother abruptly cut into his statement. "And this will need to be discussed later when your father gets home."
"You think Dad actually wants to talk about this?"
"No, but he's going to have to, I suppose. As you've told us several times, you are technically an adult. I'm not saying you're a tart…"
"Mum!" Dennis exclaimed in insult.
"We never suspected you were one, but you do keep some things pretty private, Dennis," she rejoined without any hint of apology.
"Are you saying you want me to tell you about… what I get up to… in that respect?" The question came out broken as he tried to politely phrase it.
"Heavens, no! I don't know who'd be embarrassed more!"
Dennis formed a very quick but real notion as to who would suffer the most. He shook his head to clear the ideas from his mind. However, he got left with an image of a naked Cameron stuck in his brain, and it made him squirm.
"Dennis, you do have the secrecy rules to deal with, and I'm not sure how dating someone outside of – er – your world is going to help you. You won't be able to share some of the most important parts of your life," his mother said and brought up concerns over which he struggled.
"Yeah, fair point, and I've already been thinking 'bout that," he mumbled and made note of the fact her statements never included any reference to gender. "But I know other magic-muggle couples who made a go of it. I told you Séamus Finnigan and Adewa Djouwelleo. They're both half and half."
"Oh, going to use magic to have children now, are you?"
One of the points his mother quailed about when he first came out centered on the fact Dennis would likely never produce children. She mourned grandchildren who did not exist from time to time. Colin's death made it an issue by default. Moreover, Dennis told his parents he never envisioned himself as a parent. Privately, he did not consider himself mature enough to even think that far into the future. That facet became one of the times his sexuality overshadowed his being a wizard.
"Mum," Dennis huffed the word in exasperation. He started to collect his research. "Look, can we talk about this later. I think I have to go talk to Thomas and see what information I can get him to spill."
"Going to be back for dinner?" His mother inquired in a staid manner that belied her discomfort with several of the topics that got raised.
"Should be. Won't take me long there, and then I need to go to the Ministry library again. What time are thinking of putting on supper?"
"Usual time. Six-thirty or so. You know how your father likes his schedule."
"Three and half hours. Okay, keep an eye on the chalkboard. If I think I'm going to run late, I'll send word," he openly planned.
"I'll do that. If you're not going to be home in time, I'll leave a plate in the fridge for you," she said.
"Thanks, Mum," Dennis said as he rose, shoveled his papers into his backpack, and then walked over to give her a kiss on the cheek.
"There's a good lad."
Dennis stepped back a meter and replied: "I try."
Space then folded in around him and he sped off through the ether. He knew his mother did not like it when he disapparated so close to her since she claimed it made an awful sound like he got turned inside out. Yet she seemed ready to delay with more conversation. As he twisted his way to the Ministry, then Nottingham (a station he came to prefer), and finally to Hogwarts, it dawned on Dennis he faced some real adult problems that required real adult solutions. The solutions, unfortunately, did not seem patently obvious to him.
"Core!" Dennis gasped the word when he reached the rocky prominence on the castle cliff under a gray sky.
"My dear Mister Creevey!" Thomas shouted to him as he approached. "Can you see? She made it!"
"Mister Creevey," Mrs. Hughes, Thomas' daughter, said and performed a small curtsy.
"For the last five days, Dennis, Lucia stood with me looking out over the lake and these lands, and we've spent so many hours in discourse I cannot begin to count," the ghost of the man told him with no uncertain joy. "It is truly her. You are a man of your word, good sir, and I shall never entertain even a whisper of a doubt about you again."
Dennis stood basking in the jovial demeanor of his spectral friend. The cloudy skies notwithstanding, both father and daughter shown brighter than he ever saw. Watching the two caused water to gather on the edges of his eyelids. Here, at last, he completed part of the mission he set before himself. It made him happy to see them together.
"I am in your debt, Mister Creevey, for helping me find my father. Were it not for the ills that befell him, I would be at full peace," Lucia Hughes stated.
"That's why I'm here… other than to find out if you made it, Missus Hughes," he replied.
"Please, Lucia, Mister Creevey. You have more than earned my friendship and every right to address me in a more familiar manner."
"Then call me Dennis, if you would."
She tilted her head toward him.
"This is better than I imagined it would be," he said quietly to the two.
"So very much more," Thomas agreed.
"Was it hard to get here?" Dennis inquired after turning his head to face Lucia.
"It presented a challenge, Dennis, to be utterly honest. I do not know these lands as I rarely traveled far from Nottingham. The map you created for me helped, and most of your descriptions proved accurate. The railroad line you spoke of assisted the most. I followed it here once I found it," she said in quiet by thorough manner. "You described the castle perfectly, and it is a wonder to be hold. The air and grounds are flush with magic as you said. It is all rather extraordinary."
"Yeah, it is," the living young man agreed.
"I see it all now through new eyes, Dennis. Lucia speaks rightly: Hogwarts is magnificent," Thomas agreed as well.
"And that brings up the reason why I am here," Dennis seized the moment. "Been thinking 'bout how to go about doing this, and I've got an idea. It probably won't work, but I'd like to give it a go."
The two ghosts nodded their permission.
"Right, so what I'm going to do is talk to Lucia. I'm going to ask her the questions. I don't think you'll be able to answer most of the questions, Thomas, but she knows you better than me. I'm hoping it might speed up getting information out of you," the young wizard explained.
"Do you understand what I meant when I said he's a clever lad?" Thomas asked his daughter.
"Father, he already proved that in Nottingham," Lucia remarked.
"Maybe a little," Dennis acknowledged with a smirk.
"Ask your questions, Dennis," the faint image of the woman said and smiled as well.
"Good, and thanks," he opened. "Right. Now, you knew your father was a wizard?"
"I knew, but we did not speak of it in the open," she answered.
"The secrecy statutes were in full affect," Thomas added.
"I know, and that's why I asked. Thomas, you said you openly practiced your magic. How…"
"Not how, Dennis, but why. I only used my magic among my family and close associates. I did not use it often nor to sway the fortunes of my family. As I explained, my magic came by way of my mother," the spirit of the older man interjected.
"And she trained you?"
"When it became apparent I possessed the gifts, she did."
"What about your brother, Edward?" Dennis asked, although he felt it a tangential matter.
"Dear Edward did not possess the ability, but he never begrudged that fact I did," Thomas stated and his eyebrows drew together a little. "He knew the dangers that came with magical powers, and he knew I would be burned at the stake as a warlock. Both my father and mother impressed on him the need to keep it a secret lest he lose half his family. He did, and I loved him all the more for it."
"Okay, right. That's good. I… never mind, but here's the real question: who else knew?" Dennis inquired and stopped himself from raising a distracting issue.
"Knew that I was a wizard aside from my immediate family?"
Dennis nodded.
"Well, my mother's relatives knew. My maternal grandparents were both magic, and they seemed pleased the gift got passed to one of their grandchildren. Various aunts, uncles, and cousins along that line likely were aware of my status. Why? Do you think one of them might be involved?" The former Earl of Nottingham relayed.
"No, because you can talk about them. Can you tell me who killed you?" The younger wizard asked.
Thomas became rigid.
"Good heavens, father!" Lucia exclaimed when she saw the reaction. "Please, Mister Creevey, release him from this awful spell! Please!"
"How was the hay crop the first year you were the earl?" Dennis quickly asked.
"Ah! Fine and well. Quiet healthy that year," Thomas heaved out the words as he visibly shifted his thoughts.
"Father!" Lucia quailed.
"There, there, my precious girl, I am fine," he soothed her. "Dennis and I discovered this as a means to discuss my… circumstances. He quickly deduced how to wrest me from the control of the curse."
The wind blew around them, and another low round of thunder sounded from some ways off. It seemed to punctuate the moment. Dennis glanced at the sky. When the rain would come became a concern.
"And it brings up another point maybe you can answer, Lucia: did you know of any other wizards… or witches?" Dennis returned to the main subject.
"No, none. We knew about father and grandmother, but never spoke of it to anyone as by his instructions," Lucia replied.
Dennis watched her speak. Her voice struggled to be heard above wind. When the storm arrived as he felt certain it would, further discussion out of doors would be useless. Thomas never seemed inclined to enter the castle.
"So, it wasn't family, and Lucia did not know of any other magical folk," Dennis verbally assembled the small pieces. "We know Thomas knew the person who did this to him. Given the secrecy statute, this makes some sense. People didn't go about flaunting their powers. We still don't, except for Voldemort. Still, a wizard can recognize another wizard."
"Yet even still, the non-magical did not know of Voldemort's presence." Thomas corrected him.
"Lucia, none of what I read said and your father can't tell me directly, but did he die right away? Did you find him dead?" He inquired.
His question obviously distressed the woman. Thomas took her hand in his, and for a brief moment Dennis found it absurd. Ghosts did not possess solidity, and even Peeves needed to expended considerable energies to move objects and never became material. Then Dennis felt stupid because, he reasoned, ghosts could touch one another. He could not imagine how or what force allowed it, but a multitude of examples popped into his mind.
"Lucia, please, this is of the gravest importance," Thomas encouraged her, and Dennis forced his mouth to remain motionless as the unintentional pun struck him.
Lucia looked up and seemingly far away as she said: "It was a clear evening, Mister Creevey, in September. The early harvest just started, and father helped oversee it in the west field in the place now called Gedling. He came back with Harrold Hicking, stabled the horses, and spoke with Mister Dermeister, one of the tenants. Harrold Hicking argued with father for a while, but left just before nightfall to return home…"
"The same Hickings who married your younger cousin and took over the title when Edward died?" Dennis interjected.
"We were not on good terms with that family," Thomas added in a serious voice. "They owned various tracts of land to the north and further east, so we did our best to be polite with them. They tried to buy more land from my father, but… my father and I found a way to buy some of their land. This did not endear us to the Hickings. Yet it should be said their foundry proved the real source of their revenues. Edward never knew of this as he applied himself to his studies."
"Any of the Hickings wizards?"
Two ghostly heads shook back and forth.
"Dennis, I, too, thought it could provide motives for nefarious deeds, but consider I am free to speak about them."
"Yeah, fair point there, Thomas. Still, who else might have a reason to want to do you in?" Dennis almost rhetorically asked. "Guess I need to do more reading somewhere."
"Since you know a magician did this, Dennis, perhaps you should focus your inquiries there," Lucia suggested.
"I was thinking the same thing. Figuring out where to start is going to be tricky 'cause we've got nothing to go on. Somebody somewhere had to have a reason to do this to your dad, but the main suspects just got let out of the stocks," he pondered aloud.
The late Earl of Nottingham squarely faced Dennis while retaining a hold on Lucia's left hand. He appeared solemn, yet serene in the living person's eyes. His clothes appeared neat and straight as befitting a man of his station.
"As I stated before, Mister Creevey, should this become unsolvable over time, you have already earned my full gratitude for reuniting me with Lucia. It is a gift beyond measure," the man told him.
"Still not enough, Thomas. I know if it were me in your shoes, I'd want to find the bastard and force justice down his throat!"
Raindrops hit his head.
"Care to take this into the castle?" Dennis both suggested and requested.
"I prefer not to," Thomas responded.
Dennis raised his eyebrows.
"I am loathe to go into the detail, but suffice it to say The Bloody Baron and I have come to odds more than once. He envies my rank, I think."
"I can believe that."
A heavy rain dropped from the clouds. Dennis felt it soaking through his clothes. He scrambled to close his backpack.
"Away with you, Mister Creevey, 'ere you catch your death from cold."
"Right. I'll be back soon."
With that Dennis disapparated into the castle as the rain became a torrent. Ghosts would not be bothered by it, but he hated getting soaked. As Dennis leapfrogged from station to station, and eventually home, his mind started to dissect the conversation with Thomas and Lucia. He begrudgingly admitted eliminating suspects served a purpose; yet he felt hesitant about discarding the Hickings. They seemed ripe for exacting revenge against the Norths for a number of reasons. Disposing of the eldest son would put the holding on tenuous footing as any second or third son would not be raised to manage in the same manner as the heir apparent. Moreover, Thomas North, Earl of Nottingham, gave every appearance of total competence. If he and his father engineered annexing land from the Hickings, then the man represented a serious force. Ideas bubbled in Dennis brain.
"For Pete's sake, Dennis, don't just stand there dripping water everywhere," his mother yelled at him.
"Oh, sorry," he mumbled and glanced around. "Was thinking 'bout something."
"Good or bad… and go get changed!"
"Not sure yet, Mum. I'll let you know when I find out more."
He then trotted to the stairs and then his room. Within a minute Dennis stood clad only in his underwear as he checked on his research. His decision to use a muggle ballpoint pen saved him tremendous grief and loss because the ink did not run when it got wet. Water could shrink and warp parchment, but at least the printing would survive. The notion Thomas knew the killer and Lucia did not made sense only in light that the woman did not witness the murder. Coupled with the fact she knew no other witches or wizards, other than her paternal grandmother's family, still left family revenge as remote possibility. Dennis made a note to ask if Thomas suffered a falling out with any of his blood relatives despite his claim his family could not be involved.
"Clothes, Dennis!" His mother hollered from the hallway after coming up the stairs and heading for the bathroom. "And can you see your way to cutting some veg for after you get dressed?"
"Sure, Mum," Dennis replied without the slightest hint of embarrassment his mother saw him scantily dressed.
Dennis slipped into some dry shorts and a tee-shirt. He hung the wet set on the spindles of the chair that sat next to the door. It routinely served as a hamper much to the annoyance of his mother, but Dennis used it to judge when he needed to do laundry, aside from running out of socks or underwear. Once suitably attired, he went down to the kitchen.
"Have to admit that does come handy at times," his mother commented when she also returned to the kitchen.
Two knives set about chopping and slicing carrots and radishes without any human assistance. His mother already prepared the vinaigrette dressing and roasted pine nuts she would add to make a cold side dish. While growing up his friends thought it an inedible and insane dish, but the entire Creevey clan loved it. Both he and Colin often requested it from the kitchens at Hogwarts, and more than one person there grew to like it.
"So, what'd you learn, Detective Creevey?" She asked him while seeing to the roasting pork loin and onions.
"I'd never work for the Ministry," he grumbled first, "but… I guess you could say we ruled out suspects. Thomas knows his killer, but Lucia doesn't know any witches or wizards outside of her grandmother's family. Since a witch or wizard did this…"
"Someone in the family trying to claim the title?" His mother interjected. She became of avid fan of television crime series over the years, especially for Inspector Morse and Miss Marple. The Midsomer Murders also ranked high on her list.
"It'd be nice if it worked out like that, but Thomas' younger brother Edward became the next Earl of Nottingham. No one tried to snuff him in over fifty years. Didn't work out like anyone would've guessed. I read that the title passed to the family they feuded with from time to time because Edward never had a son," he laid out what he knew.
"Seems that other family would be the prime suspects."
"Yeah, they would, 'cept not a one of them is magical. Don't forget Thomas was killed and cursed."
He saw his mother's shoulders lift, the source of his shrugging habit, and she opined: "Maybe they hired someone to do the dirty work."
"I didn't think of that, but I can think of at least ten reasons why that wouldn't happen," he remarked.
Jill Creevey turned and fixed her son with a quizzical expression.
"The Secrecy Statute, Mum. That'd be a huge violation, and I'm willing to bet someone in Thomas' family reported it to… shite!"
"Language!" She yelled at him, but her curiosity clearly got the better of her. "Shite what?"
Dennis smirked at his mother, the knives became silent as they finished their chore, and he said: "I never looked to see if there were any auror records in the Ministry or in Nottingham… even muggle constable reports. An earl dropping dead at a young age had to get looked into a little bit."
"Sounds reasonable, but do the two sides work together?"
Dennis shrugged.
"Well, what about Voldemort… when he was doing his worst? Surely your ministry worked with British intelligence or… the army… or even the Prime Minister's office. Wasn't just you magic folk who suffered."
Her words took on an edge as always happened when anything related to Voldemort came up in conversation. The name alone evoked the fact Colin met his end at the hands of the crazed wizard's forces. Dennis felt a hard knot form in his stomach.
"I wasn't invited to those meetings, Mum, but I'm sure there had to be some cooperation going on," he flatly said while struggling to keep his anger in check and remain focused on the task at hand.
She returned to the hob and stirred the mashed peas being warmed in a pan. Dennis checked on the carrots and radishes. He did not need to be instructed to rinse the final product in the colander and set the mix to air dry. The ends and roots got tossed in the waste bin. When he spun around, he found his mother staring at him.
"I guess it's human nature, isn't it, Love?" She asked him.
"What is, Mum?" Dennis counter-queried.
"Lust for power. Killing. Magical or not, doesn't seem one side is better than the other."
"I suppose not."
"Is this Lord North a decent sort?" His mother pressed.
Dennis nodded.
"Do you trust him?"
He nodded again.
"You always had a better sense about people than your brother. Make sure you use it," she advised her son.
"I am. I asked Thomas if he did anything to deserve this. He got offended, but said he didn't. I didn't read anything in the history that said he did," he told her. "In fact, there's not a lot written about him. That's was I keep finding so strange. It's like somebody wanted to make sure no one asked questions."
His mother assumed both a fearful and surprised visage.
"Now what, Mum?"
"Dennis, this is nobility we're talking about here. Peers of the realm and all that. What if this is a lot bigger than you think it is?" She exclaimed in a hushed voice.
"And after two-hundred and forty-some years…?" He countered with a leading question.
"Royalty has a long memory!"
"So do elephants and hippogriffs, but this happened before the colonies revolted, Mum. Who's left who'd even really care?"
The sudden mix of the magical and nobility spooked his mother. She would not leave the subject. Too many years of Ivory-Merchant films and Upstairs, Downstairs polluted her thinking in his estimation. He also noted his mother seemed to enjoy the sense of highbrow intrigue. Her mind appeared to feast on the idea of grand plots and schemes stretching over centuries. Dennis realized their conversation would not yield any further insights.
It did not end there. During dinner, his mother continued to fantasize about an elaborate web of nefarious intricacies to rob Thomas North of his land and titles. His father got some of the facts from his son, but his wife kept intruding with one outrageous conspiracy after another. Her efforts so distorted the truth as to render it meaningless. Dennis did not need to guess it stemmed from death of Princess Dianna. A good quarter of the United Kingdom bought into the myth the royal family, even Queen Elizabeth herself, somehow arranged Dianna's demise as a revenge killing for bringing dishonor on the family by exposing Prince Charles as a philanderer. Dennis gave up trying to engage in rational conversation about Lord North for the rest of the evening.
"So, you're not going to be around this weekend, huh?" Mr. Odpadki rhetorically queried the next morning after Dennis said he would be going to London and then Nottingham for the weekend. "Planning on a little romantic time while you're out and about?"
Sasha Odpadki, the eldest daughter of his employer, snickered. She also made a kissy face at Dennis. Like her father, the young woman, and she held a bit more than six years on Dennis, presented a quick sense of humor and seemed more than willing to use it at all times. Four times in the past two weeks Sasha joined them on particularly knotty waste removals, and seemed a deft hand with smaller magical creatures. She also appeared stronger than her father, and both shared a similar armoured-sausage build. She held onto one end of the trap net with greater ease than Dennis.
"Shut it," Dennis playfully said to her, and then to her father he added: "Of course I am. Not like a I need a murder now to get me to go to Nottingham."
"Denny, hold tighter to you end," Sasha instructed him.
The floating pile of trash, one with a seeming mind of its own, wanted to head toward the Thames River. While the Grayford Marshes seemed a festering swamp to most, it housed a tidy little magical community that included a quirky family who liked to build flying contraptions to feed the flying saucer legends. Mr. Odpadki told him the Velowiess' routinely ignore the Ministry threats to send the entire clan to prison. Sasha mentioned the Ministry probably feared igniting an internecine war because the Velowiess family extended far and wide. Dennis silently agreed with Sasha as he hauled on the rope to keep one end of the rubbish heap from achieving altitude.
"Any ideas how to tame this mess?" Sasha asked with a chuckle.
"We could burn it," he loudly suggested.
"It'd go off like a bomb," Mr. Odpadki yelled from his position.
"We tried that about ten years ago. Took us ages to get the muggle defense forces off our back, and Dad had to pay a five-thousand galleon fine. Took the Ministry three years to completely cover the story," his daughter filled in the details.
Dennis made the appropriate horrified face at the excessive fine.
"Well, what do you usually do with it?" He asked while trying to retain his footing.
"Usually bury it in a cave somewhere once we get it into a truck, but this is a pretty big load this time," Mr. Odpadki stated.
"What if we shrunk it first?" Dennis suggested.
"This'd be a lot of shrinking," Sasha intoned. "And we'd still have the conservation of mass problem."
Dennis learned on their second trip Sasha completely understood the rules of magic. He wondered why she never went to Hogwarts, but suspected Mr. Odpadki could not afford it. Hogwarts did not pay for everyone after all. As a result, a number of small institutions existed. More than a few offered an excellent education, but an equal number turned out poorly trained witches and wizards. Dennis still did not know which school Sasha and her siblings attended.
"Yeah, then it'd be like trying to hold onto a bludger."
Sasha nodded. However, his stray comment sparked an idea in his brain. It seemed far-fetched, but he could not let it go.
"How good are your maths?" He called out to the woman.
"Decent enough. Dad's is better, I think. Why?" She rejoined.
"Well, it's kind of dumb, but what if we shrank this lot down to the size of an American baseball. How much flying force would it have?"
Mr. Odpadki whistled.
"That means a lot," Sasha interpreted.
"Enough to send it into space?"
Father and daughter stared at him as if he suddenly sprouted harpy horns and wings. Dennis, despite the worried glances he garnered, clung to the idea. He began wracking his brain to recall how far up the sky extended until it gave way to outer space. It did not seem as high as he once thought, and he recalled something about escape velocity, but the principle seemed sound. Dennis held his ground in several manners.
"How far up?" His employer called out.
"I don't know. I think it's 'round forty kilometers up, there about," he answered.
"How much force do rockets use to get there?" Sasha questioned him.
Dennis shrugged as best he could. He remembered it got measured in pounds of thrust per meter, but the absolute number eluded him. Another number entered his brain.
"I remember terminal velocity is around two-hundred and forty kilometers per hour if a round object is dropped from a high enough height. Madam Hooch made us learn that so we'd know even ten meter fall from a broom could kill us," he told them.
In unison, Mr. Odpadki and Sasha Odpadki tilted their heads back. Their lips moved as they performed mental calculations. Dennis knew the man became skilled in mathematics because of the various problems he faced that required calculating various forces and mass when confronting strangely charmed or hexed materials. Sasha said she simply enjoy mathematics all the way around. After nearly three minutes of silence, their heads snapped forward and then toward each other.
"'Bout the size of a Facesmasher Gobstopper?" Sasha openly speculated.
"I was thinking the same thing. The bugger would shoot to Belfast non-stop like a bullet at that size!" Mr. Odpadki stated with a hint of manic glee in his voice. "But do we got enough between us to make it that small?"
"And what'd we hold it down with? That's going to be of lot of up force. It'd punch right through a sheet of canvas," the young woman added.
"What about a sheet of metal and some chains?" Dennis suggested.
The two Odpadkis glanced at him with what he considered extremely dangerous grins.
An hour later a sheet of heavy-gauge steel covered the midsection of the floating mass. Thick chains, anchored to the ground by stout spikes, got attached to the four corners. The restraint weighed so much it the garbage pile sank half a meter in the air. Dennis, Sasha, and Mr. Odpadki, dressed in matching coveralls, stood to one side discussing how best to apply the reducto spell. They slowly arrived at the conclusion they could only attack heap from the underside. Eight members of the Veloweiss family sat off to one side listening and watching the proceedings with a disturbing amount of interest.
"Okay, look, if we position ourselves here, here, and here," Mr. Odpadki said as he magically drew a diagram in the dirt with his battered but stout wand, "that'll give us even coverage. I've seen both of you cast, so added to my ability, it looks like we got enough to do this."
"Got to be consistent. Do we go all out from the start?" Sasha asked.
"Not a good idea," Dennis entered the debate. "Professor McGonagall said the rapid application of transformative magic to an object can destabilize the structure and cause it to explode. That's the theory she came up with to explain why Séamus kept setting things on fire… or blowing them up. I think he had a lot more magic in him than anyone realized."
"Okay, good story to learn from. So, how about we do a slow count from ten and build up to full strength?" The elder man recommended.
The two younger mages nodded in agreement.
"Fine. I'll do the count down. You two just focus on aiming your magic at an angle from your location. Like we discussed, the pile should pull toward the center as it shrinks. We clear?"
"Yes, sir," Dennis immediately replied.
"Got it, Dad," Sasha responded with confidence.
"Off to your locations then!" He commanded them.
Dennis went to the spot indicated on the map in the dirt. Sasha and Mr. Odpadki did as well. After two minutes of adjusting their positions, the trio aimed their wands at the closest edge of the trash.
"Okay, I am going to count to three and then say the spell on the fourth beat. Then I'm going to start counting to ten. Ramp up your flow slowly like Denny said. Soon as it looks about the size of a gobstopper, cut it off. Clear?"
Two heads nearest the trash nodded. From the corner of his eye, Dennis saw several Veloweiss heads nod as well. It dawned on him they just gave the family a rather swift but intense lesson regarding a creative application of the reducto spell. He sidelined his worry and concentrated.
"One… two… three… REDUCTO!" Mr. Odpadki led them in the casting.
Three streams of magic simultaneously hit the errant aerial detritus pile. The man started to count to ten, and Dennis regulated his flow of magic. He gradually increased the power level. By the time the number ten got shouted, his hand shook from the force he unleashed from his wand. The red pine wand with a dragon heartstring, eleven inches long, sturdy but supple, quavered in his hand. He saw the Odpadkis also struggled to maintain control. Above his head the garbage began to groan, squeak, and thump. In one spot after another it started to contract. Although not uniform, the pile began to shrink toward a center point. Dennis heard the chains clink. As the trash grew smaller, the metal sheet floated higher until it pulled at the restraints. The youngest of the waste removal magi waited for the signal to halt.