A/N:Thank you again to the finest crew of beta-readers there is: Christina Teresa, Seakays, and sunshyndaisies. You are wonderful beyond words, ladies--thank you for everything.
Readers--For the life of me, section breaks will NOT appear in my posted text no matter what I do. So please forgive the lack of them--another part of the problem I'm having with formatting
and posting here.
Chapter 11
Primate Punks and Payback Parts
Ron stared at the imposing figure striding purposefully toward him, even though it was difficult to focus in the dim light.
Whaddya need? the man demanded loudly. Too much in a hurry to wait five minutes?
Ron wasn't sure which question to answer first. Er...no, no sir, I waited...a bit. I just didn't see anyone. And I have this parcel-- He looked down at his hands, that he was somewhat surprised to find were empty. I had it right-- Looking beyond his hands, Ron realized he'd dropped the envelope at some point and that it had taken a great stack of papers from the desktop to the floor right along with it. Bloody hell! I'm-- sorry! Didn't mean to-- Reaching down repeatedly to scoop up clumps of parchment bits and bills from the tops of his trainers and shoving them onto the desktop, he finally got down on his hands and knees to make sure he got the last one or two that had landed farther under the desk than the others.
Wouldn't have been no accident if you were on the right side of the counter, now would there? The man was now standing at the side of his desk glaring at Ron.
Ron could feel his ears going hot. No, suppose not...I didn't--look, I'm really sorry...What's your name, boy? the man asked, wiping his brow.
Climbing up from the floor, Ron finally had a moment to take a look at the man before him. The Ministry worker sported a rather ragged goatee, and the one large gold hoop
earring on his right ear was easy to spot, for although his hair was long, it had been pulled haphazardly into a ponytail. He wore his Ministry robes open in the front, looking as though they could barely cover his beefy shoulders. But Ron was most surprised by the man's attire under the robes: he wore Muggle clothes. Although the man didn't seem exactly fat, there was great size about him and his bright, leafy-patterned shirt looked as if it could have made a pup tent for two. His obviously-new, shocking-white high top trainers contrasted with his deep-toned skin, which Ron might never have noticed had the man not been wearing--shorts.
Since when are people allowed to wear shorts to work at the Ministry? he thought.
No name then? the man boomed. What department you from?
Ron jumped to attention again, realizing he must have been staring a bit too intently for a bit too long.
Ron--Ron Weasley, he finally said. No department, just-- Ron felt the air leave him as the man grabbed a fistful of his shirt, yanking it and lifting Ron's heels forcefully off the ground.
The man had obviously seen the badge pinned to Ron's chest--and apparently wanted to see it a bit closer. His own face no more than six inches from the moon-shaped face of the man, Ron tried desperately not to notice that he badly needed to sneeze--the man's after-shave was nearly overwhelming. He scrunched his nose and prayed.
Ronald Weasley. Employee Guest, the man read, releasing Ron back flat on his feet again. Oh--just visiting, eh?
Ron purposefully took a deep breath and released it to relax a bit. Yeah--with my dad--Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. He edged toward the side of the desk away from the man--maybe if he was farther from the scene of the crime the worker wouldn't keep being reminded how upset he was...
Think I know who he is. You coming back tomorrow? the man demanded.
Er, no..not that I know of, Ron said, wondering why the bloke cared.
S almost time to go home--no overtime allowed, y'know, the man said. Who's going to help me put this mess in order? The man waved his hand over the desk in exasperation.
Ron looked at the desk and was forced to admit that it was a total disaster. If there had been any sense of order to it before, there certainly wasn't now--the motorbike magazine was barely visible under the mountain of documents and scraps on top of it. He shrugged and started to shake his head. Look around yourself. The man flopped into a very large chair. Ron realized he must have pushed it against the back wall without noticing. Does it look like I have time to straighten this out and get all of these things outta here?
Ron glanced worriedly at the mounds of parcels. Er...no, probably not, he said sheepishly.
The Ministry worker somehow located and pulled a quill out from under the sheaves of parchment. Ah, here we are--Badge Request Form. Anything you have scheduled for tomorrow that can't be changed?
Confused on the spur of the moment and after all of his Floo travels earlier, Ron tried to think what day it was. I--I'm not sure--I--Good. Be here at eight. Let me get that name down. The man squinted up at the badge on Ron's chest.
Ron automatically started to lean forward so it would be easier to read, then a horrible thought hit him. He slapped one hand over the badge. Damn! Security! It took a good part of the Order to get you in here today, Weasley--how are you going to get in tomorrow without being arrested? Erm, I can't.You can't? the man growled, scowling.
No--I mean, I'd like to help you, I really would--I know the mess is my fault, but--my name-- Ron knew he had to give some explanation, but the truth certainly wouldn't do and nothing else he could think of quickly sounded quite right either...
Your name? What's wrong with your name? the man asked, now eyeing Ron suspiciously.
Ron said. But it's--It's what?
Ron sighed. He still had clearance for today--that should keep him out of trouble for now-- and if he told the truth maybe the man would understand why he couldn't come in tomorrow... I'm--my name's on the--high-risk Security list. Wincing, he took a chance on watching the man's reaction.
The worker's dark eyes stared into Ron's face. The high-risk Security list? You? The man's disbelief was evident in the tone of his voice.
Ron nodded silently. But as he kept watching, the man's scowl began to morph into a look of wonder and almost awe. Then the most amazing thing happened-- a slow upturn at the corners of his mouth became an enormous grin.
You really? the man asked. Now that's one story you'll be telling me tomorrow. Let's see what we can do to that name.
Swallowing at the oddness of this entire situation, Ron reached up with one hand and tilted the face of his badge downward so that the man could see it more clearly. The worker scribbled something on the form, then grabbed another bit of parchment that had been written on, read it, turned it over, and scribbled several more words on it. He shoved the last bit of parchment at Ron.
Here you go--your new name, the man said. This is the one'll get cleared by security--the badge'll be ready and waiting for you. Close enough it could just be spelled wrong, eh? But I'll take care of it--I know someone. The man whispered the last few words to him as if in confidence, but Ron wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried about it. This envelope have to go out today?
Ron tucked the bit of parchment into his back pocket. He was having trouble keeping up with all of the sudden changes of direction in this conversation. Now the man acted as if nothing had ever happened. Uh... yeah--please.Leo, it is, the man said jovially, stamping something on the envelope and throwing off some of the papers on the desk to get to a large black book and open it.
Beg your pardon? Ron asked.
Leo--Leo Salomon's the name, the man said, holding out one beefy hand for Ron to shake.
Er, nice to meet you, Mr. Salomon, Ron said hesitantly.
Leo--please. Mr. Salomon's some old man that still lives in Samoa--bless your heart, Dad, he said toward the ceiling. See you at eight sharp, Ronald.
As confused as he was, Ron still reacted to the name. Not that he disliked it; it was just that there were really only three people who ever called him Ronald', for the two most important it was always when they were angry with him, and he hated hearing it from either of them.
he corrected, a bit too emphatically. ...If that's all right with you.
Leo stood and appeared ready to walk off to the adjacent Owl Room with the envelope Ron had brought down. Ron it is, then, Leo said. Be ready to work --tomorrow.
Ron nodded and turned to wind his way through the tight aisles of parcels again to enter the lift. This backup had to take weeks to build to this point--certainly Leo couldn't think...
Whether it was the lift's movement that made him light-headed or the whirlwind of strange things that had happened to him today, he wasn't sure. He was certain, though, that his head hurt and he'd be glad to get back to his father's office. Maybe they could go look for motorbike parts some other day-- he was starting to feel just a little sick...
Ron shoved his hand into his back pocket, waiting for the lift to reach its destination. A crunch in his hand reminded him he hadn't looked at what Leo Salomon had written on the parchment scrap. Pulling it from his pocket, he uncrumpled it and suddenly found his head hurting even worse.
He read the name aloud in disbelief. Renald Wissle?
Her first day of research with the Yeti had gone very well indeed. Later that evening, Hermione sat down to write her parents about all of the fascinating things she'd learned and done that day with Dr. Null and his charges. As she began, she thought back to the night before and remembered how thrilled she'd been when she finally received the first owl from home. She'd thought it was odd that it had taken almost forty-eight hours for the owl to arrive with her parents' response, but perhaps they had been delayed in writing back to her. Apparently, all had gone fine with the Memory Charm, the worst of it being that Mr. and Mrs. Granger couldn't recall which street would return them to the expressway. Finally relieved to be able to quell that nagging thought in the back of her mind that something had gone horribly wrong, Hermione felt her faith in the Ministry to be somewhat restored.
But later on, while trying to read herself to sleep once again, her loneliness began to wear on her. Hermione had sent off the Ministry owl to her parents no more than an hour beforehand when she made a decision.
Even though Thaddeus Sharpe had acted as if thoughts of writing to her peers' were somewhat silly, she could tell at this point that there probably wasn't going to be anyone else in the camp to talk with about, well, things. Harry and Ron had become such an important part of her life for a number of reasons--they'd been through so much together. Aching to tell them where she was and what she'd been doing, Hermione decided to write them the next day, no matter what anyone else thought and just hoped there would be no official Ministry repercussions. After all, she was allowed to send one owl a day--and she hadn't sent any yesterday due to her parents' delay. Her one owl on the off days could be sent with letters to Harry and Ron; if her parents' owl came earlier at some point, she was sure they wouldn't mind and she'd explain what she'd decided to do in her next letter.
Satisfied with her own solution and a bit excited to think she could be back in touch with her best friends again, Hermione had far less trouble falling asleep that night.
Leo Salomon said as he strolled into the Shipping Department carrying what looked like a small cauldron of coffee in one hand. No problems getting in here, eh, Renald? he teased.
Ron had been waiting in front of the shipping counter this time to stay out of trouble; he grimaced at the name, but could tell Leo was just joking. No--no problems. But my dad and I Portkeyed to the phone box up top again--just in case. Took us to the Atrium this time instead of Security.
Leo beamed smugly, tugging his shirt down over his ample midsection, a shirt that was even brighter than the one he'd worn the day before. Told you I knew someone--and I still get to hear that Security story later.
Ron wondered which someone' Leo knew who could sneak a high-risk visitor past Security when the Order couldn't. Of course, the name change could have had something to do with it-- his dad probably wouldn't consider using a fake name in any Ministry dealings.
So--welcome to the wonderful world of shipping and receiving, Leo said, passing Ron and rounding his desk. Ready to go to work?Yeah, I reckon, Ron answered, rather unenthusiastically. He had explained to his father what had happened the afternoon before and Arthur, acquainted with Leo though he didn't know him well, didn't see how it could do Ron any harm to go help out for a day (although Arthur had been a bit disappointed that Ron hadn't felt well enough to go looking for motorbike parts). Are you the only one who works here--well, usually?No--no, there's Piddle, Leo answered, shuffling some items on his desk to find a flat place to set his coffee.
Ron asked, trying not to be amused at the name. I haven't seen anyone else down here yet.Yeah--I know, Leo answered with a note of disgust. Has a real talent for staying hidden, doesn't he, the little whelp? Don't worry, we'll go scare him up later. Oh, and there's the Space Dislocators next door--technically part of shipping, they are, since they do the actual charms. Leo began considering Ron with an odd look. Hmmm--I'd say...parcels. More a parcel kind of bloke than a parchment worker? Ron asked. Probably parcels--yeah. Better than parchment work.Me too, Leo said. But being in charge, I gotta know it all. That means--I'll sort the desk, and show you how to weigh and record the parcels for shipping. After lunch, we'll do receiving and in-house deliveries. Piddle takes care of all owls--those few minutes he works. Leo moved around in front of the counter. Let's take the tour.
Leo first showed Ron the area for parcels to be shipped; Ron visually scanned the mounds of boxes that went as far as he could see back towards the lifts. You ship all these parcels in one day?Oh hell no, Leo said. We do what we can. The big-office blokes don't want to send me any more help. They don't want to replace Piddle because he's some big Ministry so-and-so's great uncle once removed or something. They changed all the regulations when there was a break-in in June--you hear about that?
Ron tried to remain straight-faced. Yeah--I heard.Now everything goes through the Ministry-everything! No more site to site shipping for government offices until further notice. This place is mad, Leo said. The house-elves push everything forward each night, we do shipping until lunch, then we move to the receiving side all afternoon. What gets done, gets done. What doesn't, waits. Those new regs are killing us--how do you think things got this way in a little over a month?I had no idea, Ron said, starting to realize how happy Leo must have been when he'd managed to bumble in and make such a mess of the shipping desk. The supervisor probably would have done anything to get some more help down here--especially free help-- no matter what it took to get them here. That was probably one of the main reasons Salomon didn't seem to give a damn what Ron had done to irk Security.
As he followed Leo through the narrow aisle-way to the far side of the room, Ron began to think. Talking about the break-in had made Ron think of Harry, and thinking about having to return to the Ministry today made him wonder why he hadn't thought earlier about what Harry had said regarding Hermione...
And the Ministry should have a record of where she went somewhere, in somebody's files...We've already broken in once...How often do you plan on going to work with your dad?Out of there, Piddle--let's go! Up and at
Leo's irritated, booming voice of yesterday was back, but Ron was happy to find that the voice didn't seem to be directed at him this time. The shipping supervisor kicked at a large heavily-stamped carton with one of his huge white trainers. The box finally tumbled heavily from its stack onto the stone floor.
Out, you lazy lump of wizard! Leo shouted, still kicking at the box. Time to do us the favor of working for an hour!
Ron began to realize then that the parcel they faced was open on one end. A small, pointy-faced little man crawled out over the open flaps, rubbing at his eyes with alternating hands as he used the other one to inch his way out. Pushing up from the floor, the small older man seemed almost frail. Ron was at first inclined to feel sorry for him--and was a little embarrassed that he had watched as Leo bounced him around in the box while he kicked at it. Ron at least tried to give the little man a pleasant look--but that was only until Piddle turned his entire body toward Ron to direct a sour, evil glare at him.
Oh, this is Ron, Leo said. Ron-- Tredmont Piddle. Ron's just here for the day, Piddle. But even as a rookie, he'll probably get more done today than you do in a week.
Suddenly Ron didn't feel so sorry for the little man any more--Piddle's expression reminded him more of a goblin's glare than any wizard's face he'd ever seen. Piddle then swung on Leo and spat at his shoe, stalking away immediately toward the Owl Room.
Missed em again, Piddle, Leo taunted after him, then turned to Ron. That's only the first time of many we'll find him holed up sleeping somewhere today, I'll wager.
Leo continued walking; the light was getting so dim that Ron had thought Leo was leading him to a corner. But once the two of them got closer, Ron saw that there was indeed a large window cut into the wall that led into the next room. That's where the Space Dislocators work. Everything too big or heavy for an owl to carry--goes here. Always lots of things flying about in there, so we only leave this small window open. Hey, Flo! Leo waved at a woman close by who was wearing goggles and holding her wand aloft. This shift of dislocators is amazing. Watch this, Leo said to Ron.
Flo' said nothing but raised her hand momentarily in greeting to Leo, then she turned back to her work. (It was quite loud in the room, though Ron couldn't immediately tell what was making all the noise.)
Before the woman was a very large parcel--she checked a stamp on the side of the box, then quickly glanced up onto an enormous screen on the wall that was covered by a map of the world. Ron noticed that the map had been divided into eight segments by hemisphere, the east-west hemispheres being divided twice. There seemed to be one tiny, bright red light in some of the segments; some segments had no lights, but there was never more than one in each segment.
Flo pointed her wand toward the segment that held India and muttered something, then one of the tiny, bright red lights appeared there on the map. She pointed her wand to the stamp on the side of the parcel and said something, moved down a line and repeated the action. Flo moved so that the parcel was between her and the huge map, pointed her wand once more to the bright red light in India, and muttered again. Absolutely nothing happened for at least two minutes, Flo was frozen in place with her wand held high, and Ron was beginning to wonder if something had gone wrong when all of a sudden a very loud, roaring whoosh was heard and he felt the air pressure change around him. The next thing he knew, the parcel in front of Flo was gone with the noise and the pressure was back to normal. In fact, the woman walked away to retrieve another package from the back of the room and start the process all over again.
Ron breathed in awe.
Space Dislocation's a wonder, isn't it? Leo asked. Turning to look into Ron's bewildered face, he chuckled. You know the theory behind it, right?Reckon we haven't studied that one yet, Ron said slowly, still staring at the empty space on the floor that Flo's first parcel had previously filled.
Well, Flo first had to check if anyone was dislocating space in that area of the world at that moment because the spell will go haywire if you try doing it in two places too close together, Leo explained. Then you've got a real mess. But anyway, what Flo did was send a spell to the place in India where the parcel was to be delivered. She created a space vacuum exactly the shape and size of the parcel--sort of like wizard space, but in reverse. You know what wizard space is, right?
Ron moaned. God, yes.Good. So she creates a space vacuum there, the vacuum itself searches desperately for something that size to fill it, and she uses a spell to sort of nudge the parcel toward the vacuum until it realizes that parcel is just what it needs. The vacuum takes care of the rest and there it is--delivered--simple wizarding physics, really.That's quite amazing, Ron said, finally able to converse a bit. And they receive parcels here the same way?Yeah--other side of the room, though, Leo said. You can sort of see it from here. Only trick is to keep enough open space there for the Space Dislocators from elsewhere to cut the space and create their vacuums the size they need. If we get overlapping vacuums we're in deep dragon pucky. Trouble is, to be a receiver you've got to get really good at seeing vacuums--and they're damned hard to see.
Ron understood how that could be true. He squinted to see through the workers and parcels to the far side of the room. He looked at a platform where there first seemed to be nothing, then immediately a huge parcel appeared with the same horribly loud whoosh.
Ron had a sudden thought. Couldn't ship living things that way, could you?
Leo snorted. Well, you could-- but between the two choices, you'd rather be splinched. That tell you anything?
Ron had been afraid of something like that. We'd better get to work or none of these people will have anything to do, Leo said. Not that they'd mind, but the people waiting for those parcels would. So, let's see, you're really just a kid...what are you, seventeen? Headed into seventh year at school in September? Or you just out?
Ron, flattered, briefly considered simply agreeing with Leo. But somehow he had a feeling lying might come back to haunt him--as it always had. Sixteen--going into sixth year. Leo said, his brows raised. But you can do Mobilus Spells by now, right?
I think I've done a million in the past few weeks. Yeah, sure-- no problem.Good. Okay, then, your job is to measure all three dimensions of each parcel, write the measurements into the stamped seal on the side of the box, then weigh it, Leo explained. Log the parcel To' and From' addresses in the book and do Mobiliparcellus! right onto that stack in the back of the Space Dislocation room. Come on, I'll get you the stamp and the log--they're on my desk. Need a quill?
Ron was still thinking about the Space Dislocation process. Erm, yeah--I need a quill, he said distractedly, trying to walk quickly to keep up with Leo. Er, the weight--does that do something to foul up the vacuum somehow or-- Leo said. Weight doesn't matter a bit with the vacuum, just size. But we weigh the parcels at the shipping point and at the receiving point for one important reason. Weight'll tell you if something's been removed from a shipment somehow--or if something's been added--we're talking thieves and Explosion Spells here, Ron. That's one reason the Ministry wants everything to go through this shipping department--so all of the weights are standardized on these scales--and everyone in magical receiving all over the world's been warned to weigh their parcels before opening them. That's especially true for any of the Ministry outposts that need supplies--we ship them all for those places. Just think if some pretty little girl received some package somewhere and forgot to weigh it first. Could be she wouldn't notice that it came in heavier there than it left here--she opens it up-- and kablooey! Not very nice to think about, but there's not very nice people out there these days. Ron said, now further distracted by what Leo had said.
Leo and Ron had reached the shipping desk, but before Leo moved behind it, he narrowed his eyes at Ron. That high-risk Security list--you're not on there for blowing things up, are you?
Ron barely heard his voice, but the long pause in the conversation indicated he was probably supposed to say something. Erm...what? Blowing things up? Oh, no--I'm not on there for that. It was more like breaking and entering, I reckon. Leo replied, no problem then. That sort of stuff happens around here all the time. He moved to his desk and shoved some parchment scraps around, apparently looking for the size and weight stamp for Ron.
But Ron barely noticed. Something about the image that came to mind when Leo had mentioned some pretty little girl' being blown up...that and the fact he'd been thinking about where Hermione was when he saw the world map... The two things got all crossed up in his mind somehow and he couldn't shake a bad feeling that shuddered its way through his nerves.
But it's okay, Ron told himself, Hermione's doing science, not dealing with the mail. Something with animals--she'd have no reason to be opening parcels anywhere--you're being ridiculous, Weasley. But maybe if you can find a way to get upstairs--surely some of these things have to be delivered to all parts of the Ministry...someone here has to know where she is...
Hey, you're not going Piddle' on me now, are you? Ron heard Leo's voice, but it sounded far away and he couldn't believe what he thought he heard.
Ron replied in horror.
Leo tried to stifle his laugh, but it seemed to start deep in his belly and work its way out, stopping him from explaining for a moment or two. Sorry-- little Shipping Department joke. Very little. When you don't want to work, you're going Piddle'--get it?Oh. Oh yeah, Ron said, giving a courtesy chuckle. I was just thinking of something else--that's all.I know, kid, Leo said, looking a little sheepish. Just trying to keep myself entertained. Here you go--log book, quill, ink tray and the stamp. You know how to use your wand to get the measurements, right?Yeah--basic wizard math, Ron answered.
Oh--forgot to tell you--long as you're inside the Ministry building, you're cleared to use magic to work, even if you're underage, Leo said. You can start at the front there and get as many parcels over to the Space Dislocation Department as you can before noon. Let me know if you have questions. I'll be right--here. He pointed at the desktop and settled into his chair.
Ron collected all of the items Leo handed him and walked all the way to the left end of the front row of parcels. He looked at the stacks behind it and shook his head. At least you're only here for a day and this can't be worse than the shed. One at a time, Weasley--no matter what, you can only do one at a time...
Hermione said in exasperation. She was seated at the table in the training room and leaning her head back, her eyes closed. It had been nearly an hour of coaxing now and her patience was wearing thin. She sat straight and spoke loudly, swinging her head to direct her voice throughout the room, Leif --chair! Chair! Right NOW!
Trying to get the young Yeti, Leif, to complete his picture diary for the week was proving to be as difficult as only one other task in her life: trying to get Ron to start his homework more than twelve hours before it was due, no matter how long it would take to complete the assignment. (Although she did have to admit that he was improving in that regard the last half of fifth year.) In any case, Hermione was finding that it must be something to do with adolescent males that had them up and about, doing anything and everything to procrastinate. At least Ron couldn't disappear at will--yet.
Scanning the room for the hint of a purple halo anywhere, she couldn't make out a thing, especially anywhere near the chair where the Yeti was supposed to be seated. A sudden snort near her left ear made her jump and it was all she could do not to consider grabbing Leif over her shoulder by his short chest hairs and dragging him around the table before shoving him into the chair.
Hermione snapped her gaze to the left and found a purple halo hovering no more than
a foot from her face. That meant he had to be leaning down. Although Leif was still considered a young Yeti teenager at twenty-nine, he was already a good seven feet tall--when you could see him, of course.
Hermione said sternly. No playing! Show yourself! She had already found that it wasn't necessary to speak to Leif gently--in fact, gentleness got no response at all--pretty much like the response her firmness was currently getting. She sighed.
Yesterday had gone so well with Starr that Dr. Null had encouraged Hermione to try her hand with Leif. The young Yeti was one of the few at Trapperton who had shown no outward signs of aggression. He had been sent to the camp as an orphan. His mother had been killed by some senseless wizard who had antagonized her, then been surprised at her aggressive response. Though Leif likely could have survived on his own in the wild at his age, he'd been living in a particularly secluded area of Canadian woodlands. The Yeti territories surrounding his belonged to very powerful older males--chances were that one of the males would move in to kill Leif at the earliest opportunity, long before he had the chance for puberty and the course of nature to change him into the strong and threatening young male he was destined to be.
Hermione's frustration, however, was well on its way to despondency. Maybe I'm just not very good at this, she said quietly, throwing herself back in her seat.
A moment later, she felt leathery fingertips slide tenderly down her left cheek, though she still could see nothing at all. Suddenly the tabletop in front of her bowed in the center, then popped up level again, disrupting the few cards that had been there. Something hit the chair across from her hard enough to push it back a foot or so, then the room fell silent. A purplish circle glowed some three feet above the chair seat for a few moments, then a young Yeti with mottled charcoal and pearl gray fur materialized there.
Hermione shook her head and tried to remain angry, but she couldn't help but smile at the Yeti looking innocently and attentively back at her. Leif stared into her face for a moment, but her smile seemed to unnerve him and he turned his gaze to the floor.
Hermione said gently. Leif, look at me. She waited for the Yeti to look into her face again and when he did, she stared straight into his orange eyes. Thank you. Ready?
Leif pushed with his legs to move himself and the chair closer to the table, then started working with the cards immediately. Leif's diary' started with the fact that he'd caught a large fish in the river the other day and had apparently enjoyed eating it immensely. But the next concept may have told Hermione precisely what Null had avoided telling her the other day. Using the cards, Leif wrote': Spyder hit Trey. Trey hit Spyder. Spyder and Flaime hurt Trey. Null come. Trey run. Spyder and Flaime run.
Hermione became worried at the thought of what had really happened, but she had some other questions for Leif.
Where Leif? she asked, both out loud and by pushing cards in front of Leif.
Leif pushed the picture of the tree toward her.
Leif go with Trey?
Leif look confused, but then pointed to the top of the tree with one finger and pushed his leaf' picture card at her.
Oh, you were in the tree? Leif here? She pointed at the treetop to confirm it.
Leif pushed a card with a woodland photograph on it toward Hermione. Null had taught her this was the card the Yeti had learned to use for the concepts of or . The opposite concept card had imaginative, oddly-colored drawings of flowers bigger than dragons and fish walking in the desert, among other things--this one indicated or .
Hermione pointed at all of the diary' sentences Leif had made with the cards. Then she pushed the card toward him and the card, pointing back and forth, then at Leif. This true? Or untrue?
Leif immediately grabbed the card and slapped it down on the table in front of Hermione, pointing emphatically at the photograph.
Hermione nodded seriously at Leif, said thank you once more, then reached into a large container behind her and set several large dog biscuits on the table for Leif. Dr. Null had explained the day before that the handlers had once caught some of the Yeti stealing biscuits from the cages of the guard dogs when they were out and found that the Yeti seemed to have a taste for them. Since then, they'd been used as rewards' for the Yeti, once they'd completed a good day's work' in the training rooms.
While Leif was crunching away happily and dribbling crumbs down his chest, Hermione sent for the handlers. Once Hank and Ulav had come to escort the Yeti back to the habitat, she set about the task of recording Leif's diary'.
It would be interesting to check out Leif's story with Starr later, if indeed the older Yeti had managed to witness the disagreement, too, or if she had heard about it from some of the other Yeti in their own communications. Hermione knew Null would be checking her diary record of Leif's story, but a satisfied smile crossed her lips at the same time the thought crossed her mind. If Dr. Null didn't always want to tell her everything, in the end it might not matter. She had other friends who would.
Ron noticed that Leo was watching him do the Mobilus Charm to send the final box from the third row to the Space Dislocation Room.
Nice work, kid, Leo said, smiling at him. Couldn't have got much more done myself. Actually, got twice the work done because I sorted out the whole desk while you were shipping parcels. Ready to break for lunch?Yeah, I reckon so, but there's just so many left to do... Ron said rather hopelessly. Should I just leave everything on the desk?Good enough for me--wait! Leo said suddenly, holding up his large hand. Maybe you'd better leave it on the counter instead--just in case.
Ron smiled. Heh-- good idea. He stacked the items on the counter.
You eating with your dad today? Leo asked, reaching under his desk and pulling out a large cloth bag.
Ron answered. He's got a lunch meeting with the whole department, so he can't. But he said he'd leave the sandwich my mum sent on his desk and I could go get it whenever we had a break.Oh, you probably want that then, Leo said. Your mum a good cook?Usually amazing, yeah, Ron said. But she always sends me corned beef--I hate corned beef--almost as much as liver.Hmmm, I think I see your point, Leo agreed. Well, if you'd rather leave the corned beef for your dad, I've got plenty in here. Chicken legs, a leftover kabob, some curry and rice, lots of great things. He lifted the cloth bag up where Ron could see it and it did indeed look as if it was filled with enough food for several people. I stopped by my brother's place yesterday after work--mentioned to my sister-in-law I had someone coming in today-- that woman wants to feed the world, she does. This'll prove it to you.
Chicken legs instead of corned beef? How stupid would I be to turn him down? Sure, if you're offering, Ron said. There's a water cooler in that back room by Space Dislocation, Leo said. Sometimes people come in and leave pumpkin juice or something--go get yourself something to drink. I've brought mine.
Ron found an old cup in the stack by the cooler. He rinsed it out, then quickly guzzled down four full cups of water--it tasted so good to him that he filled the cup a fifth time and carried the water back to Leo's desk. Leo had since pulled out another section to the desk that Ron hadn't known was there, more like an extended desktop that opened to the side. Food was laid out on the new desktop section:
Grab that extra chair over there and tuck in, Ron, Leo said.
For the first few minutes, the two ate in silence, Ron realizing that he was far hungrier than he'd thought. Leo was right--the food was delicious--though some of the seasonings were different than Ron was used to (and a little spicier).
After the first wave of hunger had been satisfied, Ron began to notice the silence. He thought it would probably be polite to at least talk with the man instead of just stuffing down all of his food without talking. But what to talk about?
Ron scanned the bare walls, finding no conversation inspiration there--but then his eyes fell upon the now-organized desktop nearby. There, neatly placed on the side of the workspace was the motorbike magazine that got him into this mess in the first place--and even better, underneath it was another.
So...you like motorbikes... Ron said, taking another swig of his water.
Leo looked up from eating and smiled at him. I do. What makes you think that?
Ron said nothing, but pointed at the magazines. Then he glanced at Leo sheepishly. Actually, that's what I was looking at yesterday when I went round the counter without noticing. You had one open on your desk.Yeah, I don't always have lunch-break conversation down here, you know. Leo wiped his hands on a napkin and reached for the two magazines to show Ron. These are from my brother's shop--this one's the most recent, but he gets new ones all the time. Leo flipped open the top magazine to the very motorbike that Ron had been ogling the day before. Look at this one--isn't she a beauty?
Ron found himself gazing in awe again at the shiny chrome machine. Yeah--that one's wicked.My brother has one of those on display in his shop window, Leo explained.
In his shop window? Here I was thinking his brother ran a newsstand or something. He had to ask-- but this was almost too good to be true. Your brother deals with motorbikes?Sure as anything--and he's a damned good mechanic, too, if you're ever in the need, Leo said proudly. He may not be able to do magic with a wand like we do, but the man does his own kind of magic with a wrench, I'm tellin' ya.Oh, your brother's a-- Leo said quietly. That's one of the reasons we came to London together, Ricky and I. Our family never cared what the neighbors said, yet Ric always felt he was letting them down somehow when he found he couldn't do magic. But like I said, the man is magical with a wrench; he'd already been repairing Muggle cars in a nearby town at home. He decided to open his own shop-- and always knew he could support his family that way. But he didn't want to do it there. So I transferred from my Ministry job in Samoa and my brother set things up with a local bank here in London-- we packed our bags, and here we are. That was five years ago. He's doing great with his shop in Muggle London, I work my job here--and we get to stay together.I know--it's weird when your brothers are far away, Ron agreed.
You have brothers too? Leo asked.
Too many, really, Ron said. Three brothers away, two more who are--in limbo, you might say-- and my sister and I are at home when we're not at school.Yeah, that's a few, Leo agreed. You interested in motorbikes? Don't mind my asking, but most wizards couldn't give a hoot about them.I don't know much about them now, but I'm learning. Ron wasn't sure if he should explain in great depth-- memories of what happened when the Ministry found out about the Anglia came to mind. He didn't think Leo was the type to say anything, but he really didn't know the man very well...
You're learning? Leo sounded a bit confused. You mean you have a motorbike now? Or you're just reading up on them...?I have a chance to work on one--rebuild a junker, you know? But nothing I'd ever use or anything, Ron said, trying to eliminate any suspicions.
Never use? What'd be the point of that? Leo asked. Then he leaned down and spoke softly. I know you're not of age yet or nothin', but have you ever ridden one?
Ron smiled. You know you've sat on the seat and pretended when no one was looking--but that doesn't count. No, never had the chance.
Leo looked at Ron knowingly and held up a thick finger. Once--that's all it'll take--once--then you won't want to be without one. This junker you're talking about--does it run?Well...no, but-- Ron paused, making a crucial decision--should I or shouldn't I? Leo had trusted him with his brother's secret of sorts--he decided to take the chance--and maybe change the story a bit just in case. Here's what happened--my friend's uncle once had a motorbike long ago that ended up with my dad. But it's old and messed up and some of the parts need replacing. A month or two ago this friend's uncle...died. It's my friend's birthday soon and--I think he'd really like to have this motorbike to remember his uncle by. But it's got lots of work to be done--and I don't even know if I can afford the parts to repair it. My dad was going to go into London with me and see if we could find a motorbike shop--And now you've found one, Leo said. But you're right about the parts--those things are expensive, some of them. If you come in to work with your dad once in a while and bring me some of the bad parts, I can ask my brother to see what kind of a deal he can swing for you. But there's not always a lot he can do with the prices he charges, depending on what the parts cost him.
Ron sighed. Amazingly enough, this conversation had given him both a great relief and a great worry. Now he had a place to get replacement parts--but where in the world would he get the money to pay for them? Plus now he'd have to face the fact that if he somehow replaced all the parts and Sirius' motorbike still didn't work, it would come down to a problem with the mechanic--him. At least this would be worth a try--and maybe he could get some advice from Leo's brother.
Leo looked as if he was thinking deeply of something. You know--you're a right strong worker.
Ron felt his ears get warm. What would you think--? Leo started. Nah--you're on holiday from school--you probably wouldn't want to-- Ron asked anxiously.
Well, I was just thinking... Leo said. You need motorbike parts--and I need help. What if you came in to work here for a while, and I paid you for your help-- with parts? I can't officially hire you because you're not old enough--and as I said, the people in Ministry personnel won't allow me another employee, but I have a petty cash fund for the department...I could use some of that--and I'd be glad to chip in a bit on my own just to catch up a little...My brother would sell me the parts wholesale...You'd do that for me? Ron asked, surprised at the sudden resolution to his earlier worries. And your brother would too?Sure--why not? Leo beamed.
Ron grinned. All right. Sounds like we both win that way. I'll do it. May be tricky explaining it all to Mum, considering...
We'll make sure by seeing how you do on deliveries this afternoon, Leo said. But if you're as quick at that as you were with the shipping this morning, you're hired--well, in a manner of speaking, of course. Leo held out his large hand for Ron to shake. Besides-- I get my brother doing some good will work and someday, when you're rich and famous, you'll go back to his shop with all your money and buy--that!
Ron looked where Leo pointed in the magazine at the beautiful new motorbike, then snorted. Yeah, right--when I'm rich and famous. Tell your brother not to hold his breath.
©Space Dislocation as a name, an imaginary process, and an idea is hereby copyrighted as of the date of the posting of this chapter on the Internet and confirmed by means of US mail.
What can I say? Just in case and-- I kinda like it. :) NZ