Chapter Three: An Invitation to Dinner
His childhood seemed two lifetimes ago, now. His parents currently did the Trekking for rare specimens, the Grans having somewhat retired to continue with research and development at the Farm.
As Wilfred had not yet married and "settled down" as Mother put it, there were no grandchildren available for his parents to usher about the world. They settled for offering fortnight field trips in the summer holidays for N.E.W.T. potions and herbology students recommended by the Hogwarts faculty.
The Grans had not yet solved the mystery of the Vampiric Mist. At least they had settled on a title for it. After their discussion over tea, they had written up a brief report on what they'd seen, felt, and speculated, and Grandpapa rapidly circulated it among a select group of colleagues they knew well from the Ministry of Mysteries, Ministry of Magical Creatures, Hogwarts, and even Ministry of Enforcement. While all were very interested, and even a bit dismayed at the report, none had anything particularly helpful to offer. Apparently, an attack of this sort had never been witnessed before.
They had returned to their campsite the following day, as the Grans wanted to restock and rest up, expecting to find nothing usable upon return. Wilfred suspected they also wanted to provide ample time for the Vampiric Mist – as they had decided to name it – to clear off and find better hunting grounds.
They had been wise to restock. There was nothing usable, or even recognizable, as their campsite upon their return. Only metallic parts remained. The earth beneath what had been their tents was now black and barren, and every bit of non metallic material had simply vanished into thin air. Even the metallic surfaces were covered with a fine film of dullness, not quite a dust, but as though they had been acid-etched. The Grans carefully collected samples of the residue, swabbing metallic surfaces from all over the camp. But they then levitated all the metal materials into a single pile, and destroyed it utterly. There was nothing there, they said, that they could not replace, and they wanted no possible contamination to survive.
The rest of that trip was quite uneventful, and the Mist never reappeared. It was hard to tell if that was a good or a bad thing, because while the Mist was clearly the most dangerous thing they'd ever come up against, the Grans passionately wanted to learn more about it.
These concluding thoughts passed through Wilfred's mind as he made his way to his parents from the Tea Shoppe. He had not been expecting his parents to visit today, but they were likely to pop in anytime, and always welcome.
"Welcome, Mother… Father…" he called cheerfully as he reached them. He and his mother kissed gently on both cheeks, and his father and he shook hands warmly.
"Hello, Son," smiled his father, as he nodded a friendly glance around at all the clerks and assistants who had served him faithfully for so many years of his own tenure there. Some of the younger employees had not had the pleasure, but were glad to see him all the same. It was nice to work for a family who truly got along as well as this one did.
"What brings you our way this fine day?" Wilfred asked, taking his mother's arm and drifting along through the aisles of display carts that comprised their "marketplace" of a shop.
"Oh, just checking up on stock, and seeing if you need any supplies…" his father replied.
"Yes, that, and a little shopping at Madame Millikan's dressmaker's", laughed his mother.
"Ah!" Wilfred flashed a knowing grin towards his father. Mother had always been a bit of a clothes horse. Not unduly vain, and she more than held her own while trekking, but she definitely preferred the feminine and fashionable to the strictly neat and functional.
"Yes," added his father. "And to extend a dinner invitation to you for tomorrow night, if you are free." The senior Muggworth then dropped his voice into a tone only his son would hear, lest they were still being observed by casual passersby. "Your friend Draden will be coming along, too. He'd like to have a word in private."
Wilfred's eyes flashed with sudden understanding, but his head merely nodded cheery acquiescence as he replied, "of course, I'd be delighted to come to dinner. What can I bring along?"
"A girlfriend?" quipped his mother, quick as a flash. It was their standing joke; the "time for him to settle down" thing. They just wanted grandchildren, and he knew it. But they were satisfied that he take his time
"Er… no. Not at this time, Mother dear," he laughed back. "She still eludes me, I fear. But when I find her, you'll be the first to know. I promise."
"Fair enough then. In that case, just bring your pleasant self and perhaps a nice bottle of wine. We'll have a jolly evening, and I'll show off my new frock. And now we must dash, my dear. I think it should be just about ready." She turned towards the exit of the shop. "Are you ready, dear?" turning towards her husband.
"Yes indeed, everything looks well stocked here. We'll see you for dinner tomorrow then. Eight o'clock, but come for drinks at six if you're free, son," Muggworth concluded, as he took his wife's arm.
"Perfect, Father. Sounds lovely. I'll enjoy the evening very much. See you then," Wilfred said as he escorted them to the door and opened it for them politely.
"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," he said quietly to his staff, as they hovered at a polite but attentive distance near the door, in case they were needed to provide any service to the collective Muggworths. He saw them all flush slightly and incline their heads in the slightest of bows as they returned to their duties and he returned to his tea. As they paired off to chat quietly he could hear a senior clerk comment that Father was the kindest of masters, and was amused and admittedly pleased to hear one of the more junior protest that none could be kinder than he, Wilfred, was. This was amicably settled by another with the old adage, "apple not far from the tree", and all returned to their work.
So Draden had something for him, did he? Wilfred's demeanor never changed, though his heart and mind were racing. Draden was his conduit into the Ministry. For Draden to seek a "quiet chat" meant that his unique talents were needed for an investigation. Whether as an alchemist, a spy, or both was yet to be determined. Yes, he would enjoy his dinner tomorrow very much, indeed.