Harry felt as if the mud was trying to pull his wellies off. He was using his staff more like a cane to keep himself from toppling into the muck; he was glad that it was sturdy. The mud was fetid—it smelled like rotting leaves, piss, and manure. There was a buzz of flies that erupted with every step. Each suctioning step made the odor rise around him and he struggled not to gag. He didn't blame Mei for holing up in the Farm house. Besel was very patiently talking to her, trying to convince her to venture out.
Arig and Aminah were struggling through the mud near Harry, Gemma and Peter were a bit farther along—nearing the fenced area where Harry could hear the goats yelling at them. It must be feeding time.
Besel came breezing by him. "You're doing great. Just a few more feet and you'll be out of the worst of it… well, until we get into the pens. I'm going to catch up with Gemma and Peter."
"Is Mei coming?" Aminah asked, her wellies squelching in the muck.
"Yes, I'm right here—just bobbing along like a giant fish lantern during the Lunar New Year behind Besel." Mei's sardonic reply came from higher up than usual.
"That's the way to travel!" Arig hooted in delight. "C'mon! Healer Geller! Let us fly over the mud, too! Get me out of this muck—it's trying to take my Wellie off."
Harry paused for a second, tempted to get his broom out of his staff.
"You're getting along just fine!" Besel encouraged from across the yard.
Finally, Harry made it to the wood fence where Gemma, Peter, Besel, and Mei were waiting. He ran his hands over the worn planks. Aminah and Arig were right behind him—Arig's breath was labored as if he'd just run a distance. Harry had managed not to fall in the mud. Aminah was not quite so lucky, but she didn't get hurt and Besel had helped clean her up. Harry swatted at flies that kept wanting to land on his ears and nose.
"The goats are happy to see us. They are hungry and ready to be milked," Besel said.
"Milked? No way are we milking goats!" Mei exclaimed.
"Well, I'll do most of the milking, but you can assist and give it a try if you're interested," Besel said. "It takes a while to get the hang of it. Let's throw them some hay and then we'll come back for milking after we visit the chickens."
"Arig, can you grab a flake of hay?" Besel instructed.
Harry listened as Arig made his way slowly over to a nearby barn that he knew was there thanks to his staff. It sounded like the mud wasn't so bad by the building that was situated on higher ground and Arig wasn't slipping around as much as he had been in the middle of the yard where the rainwater had puddled, creating the deep ruts of muddy sinkholes that they had just crossed.
Harry heard the hay rustling as it passed by him and then land in some kind of container on the other side of the fence—he guessed that Arig had sent it to the goats, rather than try to carry it while managing his crutches in the mud.
"Er, Healer Geller, I don't think I'm going to be able to go near the livestock," Arig announced from the barn. "They are already looking cagey. I'll just stay over here and rest." Harry could hear the sound of hay moving and guessed that Arig was settling down on a hay bale.
"Right, that's probably wise," Besel agreed.
Harry used his staff to identify Gemma and Peter who were standing at the fence and let them know he was there by waving across their backs.
Mei was describing the goats to Aminah—though her descriptions focused on how muddy they were. He had always wanted to visit a farm ever since he was a kid devouring picture books at the local library and he wasn't going to let Mei spoil it for him. Granted, those books never really described the odors… or the ravenous mud.
Most of the goats had stopped screaming at them once the hay hit their trough and it sounded like they were scrambling for the choicest bits of hay. A few of them continued to bleat plaintively at them.
"Wow. They are so loud," Aminah commented.
Besel led them through a gate to a smaller fenced-in area of the barnyard. Harry's staff told him about a small structure that he gathered was a hen house. He could hear the chickens clucking and scratching in the mud.
"Over here is where we'll gather the eggs. Actually, let's just do that. Mei, can you grab that wire basket by your elbow on the table over there?" Besel said.
"Harry, could you help me lift open this door into the hen house?" Besel asked.
Harry was confused, but stepped forward anyway, swishing flies away that were trying to fly up his nose.
"It is hinged at the top and we're going to prop it open, it'll give us access to the nesting hens inside the hen house. Here, let me guide your hand to the bottom of the door—it will swing out and then I can put the stick in that props it up," Besel explained as she guided Harry's hand to the rough wooden slats that made up the door. "You'll have to be mindful not to walk into the door when it is propped open as it is right at forehead level for a lot of you."
The hens inside clucked in alarm as the door was lifted open.
"Okay, now we're just going to slide our hands underneath the nesting hens and gather their eggs. Sometimes they'll hop up and move away and that will make it a little easier. These hens are pretty gentle as they've grown accustomed to visit from residents at the Center—so they won't try to peck you. Who'd like to try?" Besel asked.
"Great, Peter and Gemma! Gemma, make sure Peter knows about the overhanging door. Mei, can you hand Gemma the wire basket?" Besel asked. "Mei, do you want to gather some eggs?"
"No, that's disgusting," Mei said. "These flies are trying to eat me. Are we almost done?"
"Can I try?" Harry asked.
"Sure, if you come over to this side," Besel directed, "these eggs haven't been gathered yet. Watch your head; that's right."
Harry followed her voice and the sound of her chair while tracing the edge of the door with the handle of his staff to avoid getting splinters in his fingers. Besel hand found his other wrist and guided it down to the wood frame that contained the nest. He felt straw and warm feathers that twitched away from him. They were soft like Hedwig's.
Ruffled feathers.
He found the crevice between the straw and the warm body and rooted around until his fingertips glanced over the smooth hot surface of an egg. He gently lifted it out from under the hen who grumbled at him. Brooding hen. He transferred the egg to his other hand and went back in to see if there were others and found a second egg, but no more.
"Gemma, I have two eggs for the basket," Harry said in her direction, but she must have been focusing on getting her eggs.
"She can't see your notes, Harry," Mei said. "Peter's holding the basket—he's about two feet to your left."
"Right," Harry edged over toward Peter, holding the two eggs in one hand and his staff in the other, hunched over under the propped open door until he found Peter, who was hunched over even more. He waved across Peter's wrist and followed his hand to the wire handle and the handle down to the basket where he gently added the eggs. Peter's other hand fluttered over his and he guided it to the two eggs he had added to the basket.
Besel was directing Aminah to another nest and when she had gathered an egg from the nest, he helped her place it in the basket that Peter held.
"Okay, nice work. Harry, can you get Gemma's attention for me, please?" Besel asked.
Harry traced his hand over Peter's back and found Gemma's shoulder and waved to her. He could feel her turning toward him and said, "Besel was asking for you," he explained.
"Thanks, Harry. That's a nice collection of eggs. I'll send them in to the table in the Farmhouse and we'll head over to the milking station. But first, Aminah, will you help me lower the door to the chicken coop?" Besel said.
Harry heard the latch that secured the door fall into place. As she led them to the goat pen, Besel described the wooden platform where the goats would stand with their heads held still in a feeding trough while they were milked.
"Aminah, could you please get a scoop full of the grain from that barrel behind you and put it in the trough?" Besel asked, and went on to explain that milking goats got a special blend of oats and beets to supplement their diet and also to appease them while they were being milked. Aminah had no trouble scooping the grain from the barrel. She used her staff to navigate by the group and found the trough eventually with her staff and Besel's verbal cues. It sounded like most of the grain made into the trough.
"I've got the sterilized milking buckets over here on a shelf out of reach from the goats. I also have some brushes and clean and sanitized rags for cleaning the udders before we start milking. Once the goat is on the stand and her head is secured, then we'll brush her down and clean her udders, then I'll get the bucket and start milking her. Her udders are full and she is uncomfortable—so she is eager to come into the milking area," Besel explained and Harry could hear her picking up and setting down the tools as she talked about them.
"Oh, that's a good question, Gemma. Oh, actually it was Peter. Peter asked about the baby goats. They have been weaned and are playing in another pen. The farmers won't start milking the mother until the baby starts eating solids. If they are male, then they'll most likely be sold for meat or to another farm as a stud. Dairy goats usually only keep one stud on the farm because they are a bit challenging to handle. And stinky! Female goats might be added to the herd or sold depending on how many the farmers want to keep."
"How do you have goats and other live animals on a simulated farm?" Aminah asked.
"We're actually visiting my neighbor's farm in Hogsmeade, but the inside of the Farmhouse was transfigured to look like Louis Braille's house. My neighbor was kind enough to let us milk a couple of his goats for our lesson today. He might stop by in a bit to help us out," Besel explained.
"The easiest way for me to explain how to express the milk is to ask you to think of the udder as a water-proof glove filled with liquid. You want to trap the liquid in one of the fingers and prevent it from moving up into the hand of the glove before you squeeze the liquid out of a hole in the tip of the finger. So the first step is to hold the finger (or the teat) where it meets the hand (at the udder) and squeeze off the milk so it can only escape through the hole in the tip. Then use the rest of your fingers and the palm of your hand to express the milk out of the teat. You're going to alternate between teats to allow them to refill with milk once they are emptied. You have to work fast because they are used to skilled milkers and they will kick the bucket if you dally," she explained.
"Okay, if you all would stand over here to the side, I'm going to let the first milking goat in. She'll jump right up onto the stand, so make sure you're not in her way. Also, they all want to get in first—so it is a bit of a tussle at the gate and I'll do my best to only let one in. Gemma, could you help me with the gate?" Besel asked as she headed to the gate where the goats were bleating loudly again.
Gemma pressed Peter's hands into Harry's as she left. Harry greeted Peter and hoped that he knew what was going on and that Gemma had been able to translate everything for Peter because he sure didn't know all the signs for what Besel had been describing.
It sounded like there was a real struggle at the gate as all the goats wanted in. Besel was shouting directions to Gemma and pretty soon Harry heard the goat's hooves scrambling on the wooden platform that they were standing near.
"Harry, can you secure Midnight's head? She's put it between the V-shaped wooden slats and you just have to pull them together and fasten them with the cord that's tied at the top," Besel explained.
"Sure," Harry said, dropping Peter's hand and making his way to the front of the stand where he could hear Midnight chowing down on the oats. He had just found the V-shaped slats that Besel described on either side of her head and was pulling them together when he heard an awkward squawk. He wondered what it was, but was focused on securing Midnight's head. It took him a while to find the cord and figure out how it slipped over the slats, but finally, it was secured. The flies seemed more persistent in the goat pen and tormented him while his hands were occupied.
He walked back to where he'd left Peter and was surprised at how forcibly Gemma grabbed his hand and forced it open to write, "L-E-F-T-P-E-T-E-R-A-L-O-N-E-!"
Harry turned to her, horrified and then reached out for Peter's hand and rubbed "sorry" across it repeatedly while he said, "I'm so sorry! I didn't think!" Of course, Peter had no idea that Besel had asked Harry to secure the goat's head.
Peter patted his hand, accepting his apology.
Besel seemed unaware of the exchange and continued with her lesson, "Thanks! Okay, first I'm going to brush Midnight down to help guard against stray hairs and mud from getting in the milk. Mei, can you please brush her on her other side?" Besel asked. "Here's the brush," Mei grumbled, but from the sound of it, it seemed that she was actually brushing the goat.
"Before I start milking, I'm going to use the sanitized rags to wash off her udder and teats. I'll also follow up with a quick scourgify charm just to make sure that the milk isn't compromised. Now, I'm going to start milking. If you'd like to give it a try, let me know. We'll have to work quickly so that she doesn't step in the milk. If that happens, then it all goes to the pigs or the cats."
As if on cue, a cat meowed and rubbed up against Harry's legs as the milk pinged against the metal of the bucket. Midnight let out a throaty belch that had an overpowering odor of fermenting grass.
"Oh, Merlin's pants! That stinks! Surely, you can extract the milk using magic," Mei said. "And can't you do something about the flies?"
Peter coughed, apparently overcome by the stench.
"Yes, we can magically milk the goats, but it isn't good for them over the long term," Besel said and Mei snorted and Midnight's hooves danced around on the wooden platform. "I can either infuse the air with an essential oil scent that the flies don't like or make a breeze move through here to move them along. Which do you prefer?"
"The breeze, please," Mei said and Besel muttered the incantation. The breeze felt good and also helped move the goaty belches out of the pen.
"Okay, Gemma, sit here on this stool, wipe your hands with this towel, and grasp here. I'll keep this teat going," Besel said and Gemma pressed Peter's hands onto Harry's again. Harry waved across it and apologized again.
Harry felt the cat wind between his legs and Peter's and when Peter flinched at the unexpected movement against his legs, Harry spelled "C-A-T" into his palm. Peter crouched down to pet the cat, pulling Harry down with him.
"That's right. Whoops!" There was the sound of the metal bucket being dragged across the wood. "I've got it. That was close, phew! Okay, just try again, that's fine."
The cat mewed expectantly and hopped away from them.
As they stood up again, Peter drew a question mark on Harry's hand—no doubt wondering what was going on. Harry mimicked the hand motion of milking and wondered if it was remotely close to the BSL sign, but Peter seemed to understand. Harry could smell the sweetish aroma of the milk as it hit the metal bucket mingled with the earthy odors of the goat. He and Peter were standing close enough to the wooden stand that their legs were pressed against it and he could feel the movement of the goat on the stand. Harry reached out and found the Midnight's neck. He took Peter's hand and placed it on the goat next to his hand. He could feel a rumbling in Midnight's throat and guessed that she liked it as she pressed against their hands. She was warm and her coat coarse.
"That's good, Harry and Peter. She likes it. Keep petting her," Besel encouraged. "Oh, I think she's running out of feed. Aminah, can you get another scoop of oats?"
Harry attempted to translate Besel's praise for Peter, but his signing vocabulary was so limited that he ended up just saying, "yes, good," and hoped that Peter understood.
"Okay, this goat is done and we're going to get the next one on the stand," Besel said. Harry heard the wooden gate opening on the other side of the enclosure and wondered if it was Arig, but didn't hear his crutches. The goats bleated loudly and it made Harry wonder if they recognized the person who'd just come in.
Harry cast the Reveleo memento charm, but his staff didn't know the person. It described a tall, white-bearded wizard and Harry's breath hitched in his lungs, Dumbledore?
"Oh, hi, Aberforth—perfect timing!" Besel greeted and Harry muttered to his staff to add this person to his staff. He breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't Dumbledore.
A gruff voice responded with a terse greeting to Besel.
"We're just switching goats and we could use your help convincing Midnight that it is time to head back to the pen," Besel said. "Friends, this is my neighbor, Aberforth Dumbledore—you all know his brother, Professor Dumbledore at Hogwarts."
The students responded with greetings laced with the kind of surprise that Harry felt—Dumbledore has a brother?
"Yeah, yeah. That old tosser is my brother, what of it?" Aberforth replied. "Come'er Midnight, no messing around. Time to get back with your sisters. Stop trying to lick the fish girl."
Mei shouted in protest. Harry wasn't sure if it was for being called a fish girl or for being licked by the goat. Probably both.
The gate opened and it sounded like there was a bit of a tussle as Aberforth exchanged one goat for another and the new goat clamored onto the platform. Besel instructed Aminah on how to secure Stormy and invited Harry to try milking after Gemma and Peter had brushed her down.
Harry moved around Besel's chair and she took his hand and guided it to Stormy's back. She was softer than Midnight. He found the stool with his staff and sat down on it, sticking his collapsed staff into his pocket. He felt like he was really close to Stormy and her sharp hooves that he could hear digging into the wood of the platform, but tried to calm his breathing.
Besel handed him a warm, wet rag and instructed him to wash Stormy's udder, which was heavy with milk, hot to the touch, and unexpectedly hairy. Besel had him feel her hands as she started milking Stormy. The milk tinged off the metal bucket with such force that it sprayed him in the face and he turned away. He was amazed at the way Besel's hands moved—strong and sure and what she had described before now made a lot more sense. She guided his hand to a teat and he tried to mimic her motions. At first, the milk moved back up into the udder until he figured out how to squeeze off the teat with his thumb and then express the milk trapped in the teat with the rest of his fingers. There was a satisfying hiss as the stream of milk hit the side of the bucket, though it was a much smaller stream than what Besel was able to get. The next one was stronger and pretty soon he'd found a rhythm.
"That's right, nice job, Harry!" Besel encouraged. "Do you want to try both?"
"Sure," and pretty soon the milk was tinging off the side of the bucket with nearly the same intensity as Besel's. Stormy was leaning into his shoulder, her hot flank pressed into his cheek.
"You might want to consider a future in farming, Harry," Besel laughed as the cat rubbed against Harry's leg.
oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo
After washing the eggs that they were going to use for baking carefully one by one at the handpump in the yard, they all washed their hands with a big bar of handmade soap that had a strong peppermint aroma. Then they gathered around the farmhouse table as Besel walked them through the steps of filtering the milk and then pasteurizing it in a double boiler in the cauldron for fifteen minutes.
They scourgified the table and set to work gathering the supplies for making bread. Besel asked Harry to scoop a little more than two cups of flour into a large wooden bowl from a sack of flour contained in a barrel in the corner. Arig came over and held the lid of the barrel for Harry while he scooped out the flour.
Harry held the bowl against his torso with one arm and navigated back to the table with his staff. He felt the table to make sure there was room for the bowl before he set it down—he'd learned this lesson the hard way at Privet Drive.
"Great—now we just need some salt, baking soda, and oil and we can make our bread," Besel said. "Yes, Gemma, please set those canisters on the table. Aminah, I think the oil is behind you on the shelf, in a jug. To your right a little, yes, that's it. Mei, the measuring spoons are near you, can you bring them over here?"
"Arig, since you didn't get to milk the goats or gather the eggs, would you like to mix together dry ingredients?" Besel asked. "Add a teaspoon of salt and a tablespoon of baking powder to the flour and stir it up."
"Sure, I can do that, but I'm pants at cooking," Arig said. "This salt is weird—big chunks."
"Well, here's a chance to get better at it. It's kosher salt," Besel explained. "Mei, how about you mix the wet ingredients in this bowl—3 eggs, a cup and a half of goats milk, and 6 tablespoons of oil."
It sounded like Mei demolished the first egg on the side of the bowl.
"Hmm. Try a lighter touch next time. I think we'll have to compost that egg and rinse out the bowl at the pump. Here's another bowl—anyone want to show Mei how to crack an egg while I take this to the compost?" Besel asked.
Harry was standing near Mei.
"I can show you, Mei," Harry said. He felt around on the table for the basket of eggs until Mei grunted and shoved an egg into his hand. He found the side of the bowl that Besel had set down in front of Mei—it had a nice thin lip.
"You want to strike it once with just the right amount of force that it cracks open without creating a lot of shell bits. It takes some practice," Harry explained and he hit the egg on the side of the bowl and eased open the two halves with one hand and let the yoke and white slide into the bowl.
"Bloody show-off," Mei muttered.
"Nah, just years of making all sorts of eggs for breakfast every morning," Harry deferred. "You get the hang of it. Now you try."
Mei cracked the egg using a bit less force this time, but struggled a bit getting it to open. "Oops, I got shell in it again… not so bad this time, though."
"The best way to get the shell out is with a big piece of shell—it cuts through the egg white more easily than a spoon or other instrument. Here, like this one," he said, handing her a shell half that had a nice edge on it. "You'll have to get it though, I'm pants at getting shell out of eggs these days."
Mei muttered as she chased the bit of shell around the bowl until she got it out. Her second one went more smoothly. She measured out the oil and the milk and stirred the mixture together.
Then Peter added the wet mix to the dry mix and stirred the two together in a squelching batter. Besel asked Gemma to pull a heavy cast-iron pan down from the shelf and they coated the pan with oil, eased the batter into the pan and set it in the oven to bake.
As they cleaned the dishes in a washing tub out in the yard, the aroma of the baking bread began to waft through the room. Harry was on drying duty and was using a soft, homespun linen towel to dry the dishes—he'd hand them to Gemma who ran them back to the kitchen to hang them up. Aminah was washing and Peter was rinsing.
It wasn't too long after they'd cleaned up that Besel said that the bread was ready to eat. They gathered around the table with a tub of butter and a jar of jam, a fresh pot of tea, and enjoyed the fruits of their labors. Aberforth dropped by and sampled a piece with them, grunting in what seemed like satisfaction.