Blue Dragon School

Chapter 1: Old Fred Makes A Sale

Red, gold and yellow leaves lay like eiderdown between the trees. Only a few tenacious specimens still clung to the oaks and maples that made up this tract. The color penetrated everything there was to see and changed your mood as you walked through it. It made you reflective, pensive. It felt like the closing of a chapter or the dying of a fire.

Three figures walked through it. Two in front, one behind.

The man behind wore a gold toned sport coat, the badge of a real estate dealer. He had a fringe of whispy white hair and had been in the business of selling property for twenty five years. He was a 'people person.' He had a 'ready smile' and a 'winning personality.' However, he was troubled because absolutely none of that seemed to matter to his current prospective buyers. They didn't laugh at his jokes, they didn't seem interested in what he had to say. In fact, they didn't seem interested in talking to him at all. However, they were interested in this house. Very interested, almost obsessively so.

It was an old property. Not so much a proper house as a small mansion. It had more rooms than he'd counted and all sorts of exotic additions. A huge front porch, a Victorian style greenhouse, stables, six outbuildings including a bunkhouse, barn, a huge tower on the south side of the building and was topped with what looked like a lighthouse. It even had a big, creepy wine cellar below the cellar; four or five rooms underground filled with mouldering wooden racks that hadn't seen wine bottles since the 1920's.

It had proved almost impossible to sell. Fourteen miles from the nearest highway, careful navigation of a maze of back-roads and country lanes was required to find the two-mile-long cobblestone driveway. There was no electricity. None at all, not even any wiring, having been lit with oil lamps and candles during the time it had been open. There was an antiquated heating system, an ancient coal burning furnace in the basement, but no running water. It had only a cistern in the basement to catch rainwater and hand-pumps in the kitchen.

Despite everything however, it wasn't in bad shape. The roof was still solid, which he supposed was really what saved it. A good many windows were broken but not much of the outside had gotten inside, save for the thick layer of dust and assorted leaves that covered the floor in most rooms. Though dirty and faded, the siding had also stood up amazingly well, still intact and displaying the pastel yellow it'd been painted over eighty years ago.

The land, all part of the estate, was bordered on three sides by a national forest. By all rights it should have been razed years ago. The idea that the buildings should be demolished and the land donated to the forest service had been proposed many times, but each and every time, the state historical society made a big stink about preserving 'a wonderful and eclectic portion of our heritage.'

After talking to a local history buff over his morning coffee at the diner, the agent told the buyers it used to be 'some kind of school' back at the turn of the century. They already knew. He'd told them that local legend was it used to be one of them occult schools. They knew that, too. He told them that the last owners had disappeared mysteriously and the property had reverted to the county. They said they knew that and lot more.

What he didn't tell them is that there had been a farm boy from around those days who said he'd watched the inhabitants flying around on broomsticks. He also didn't tell them about all the reports of strange lights and weird sounds, the reports of mystifying creatures and ghosts roaming around the woods; that kind of thing might scare off a buyer. Despite this, he couldn't help but think that these people would just smile and say, "We know."

The truth, in his evaluation, was that these people were awfully strange. There were five of them, but only one of them ever spoke to him - the pretty African lady. She wore a yellow-orange dress and many thin ivory bracelets. Her hair was braided and worn in elegant loops on top of her head. She carried herself like a lady, gliding with each step and always speaking politely.

There was also an older man with a bushy gray beard and equally bushy gray hair. He wore some kind of baggy linen shirt and looked like a hippie. He had beads and baubles woven into his beard and affected a perpetual smile. He kept to the greenhouse mostly, poking around the dried up flower pots and looking under benches at the various rusting garden tools.

The third was a big man, had to be almost seven feet tall. He had a commanding red beard and unruly eyebrows to match. He'd shown up the first day wearing a Hawaiian shirt and flip flops. He'd heard him laughing a few times as they walked around the grounds, a big booming laugh that seemed to shake the few remaining leaves from the trees.

Rounding out the group, the fourth and fifth kept together for the most part. One was a pretty lady who dressed like a businesswoman. She had a professional, stuffy look about her and wore expensive shoes. He'd observed her carrying a clipboard and making notes.

The other was a peculiar Chinaman. He had long, black hair and unusual light green eyes and wore a long, flowing light blue jacket. The agent had only heard him speak once, in a very smooth and comforting voice, when he'd been showing them the vast stone well. He'd tripped on some loose brickwork and almost fallen into it, but for the Chinaman's arm sneaking out at the last second and snatching his jacket collar.

"Careful now Fred, it's not your time yet," was all he'd said, and as sure as the sun rose, he believed him.

They'd turned up for the first showing driving a dilapidated van with a curious mural on the side, and practically tore the house apart the first day. They poked in cupboards, opened closets, inspected the attic and the gables and even shined a light down the well. They met in little groups and talked wherever he wasn't. He'd seen them at it through the windows and across the lawns.

Now, as Fred walked through the wood with the African woman and the Chinaman, he hoped they would sign the papers today. He really wanted to put this sale behind him. It would be a big feather in his hat if he did. All the people at the agency said they would never sell it. Over the years they had had only two or three showings. Most buyers had run screaming when they'd seen the state of the property and realized all the money they'd have to put into it to make it livable. He didn't know what they wanted with it and he didn't care; he just wanted them to sign.

As if they had been reading his mind, the lady turned and addressed him.

"Well Fred, I think we have seen enough. We will take the house."

"Really?!? Well. That's great. I'm sure you... all... will be very happy here."

"I'm sure we will," she said with a smile. "Now, is there some paperwork we need to sign?"

"Oh, oh yeah, I've got it in my car." He'd come with the deed and all the paperwork preemptively prepared. If they did accept, he didn't want them to get cold feet waiting for it.

They walked back through the woods to his Buick. He got out his clipboard, the pen his wife had bought him and the deed.

"Now, if you'll just put your John Hancock here..." he said, grinning.

"My what?" replied the African lady, quizzically.

"Yer signature, your name... here, on the dotted line" he replied, proffering the pen. Declining, she reached into her coat and pulled out something bizarre - in his world, anyway - a feathered quill and a bottle of ink.

"Wow," the old man scoffed. "You gonna sign with that? That's a bit weird."

"Is it?" she asked distractedly as she took the papers from him, leaning over the car roof and opening the ink bottle.

"Yeah... " he said, trailing off. The Chinaman was standing behind him, his hand in his inside jacket pocket. Fred was starting to get a little nervous.

"Umm... if ya don't mind me asking, what're ya gonna do with this big old place?"

She smiled again as she signed something to the paper with the hawk-feather implement.

"We're going to turn it into a school."

"A school?" he asked.

"Yes. A school for witches and wizards," she said as she finished and handed the deed back to him.

"What? What'd you say?"

"Wizards, Fred. And witches."

He looked at them for what seemed like an eternity, his mind reeling.

"You must be joking."

"Oh no, I am not," she said, handing him back the paperwork. She walked over to their van as he stood, dumbfounded. When she returned, she carried a large leather suitcase which she plunked on the trunk and opened. Inside was money, lots of money.

"One hundred fifty thousand in your muggle money, I believe this is the price... yes?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah! Yeah... wow. Are you paying in cash?"

"Yes we are Fred, and now we would like you to leave this place."

"Leave... right... now... hey, now, are you serious? Witches aren't real!"

She looked at him with an expression bordering on cheerful.

"Yes, they are real Fred, but do not worry, none of this will matter to you."

"Why?"

And with a flash, Shen Wu, the 'Chinaman,' drew out his wand, waved it over his head and cried "OBLIVIATE!"

There was a flash and Fred's face slid into a dazed expression.

They both looked at him for a minute. Shen winked, put away his wand and grabbed the agent's hand, shaking it as he spoke.

"Well thank you very much Fred, you've been a great, great help. If we ever want to do business again, we'll be sure to look you up. Now, I don't want to keep you, I know you're a busy man. Got to get that money to the bank."

"What?" said Fred. "Money?" He looked down.

"Oh yeah, money... for the house. Got to get this to the bank! Well now, if you folks ever need anything, you just don't hesitate to call old Fred, he'll set you up, right?"

He let Shen lead him over to his car, help him in and watch as he found his keys and started the car.

"You all be good now!" he called as he drove off.

They sat and watched him as he dust trail stretched and faded.

They looked at each other.

Shen grinned, "Well, shall we get to work?"

Chapter 2: Moving In

The wind rustled through Shen's hair as they walked back across the wide stretch of lawn, toward the buildings they now owned. He brushed a strand out of his face as they talked.

"Eighty years. You can feel the charms are fading but they're still there. I'd give it another five years and they'd give out."

The African lady nodded, her dark eyes scanning the exterior of the building as they progressed.

She winced as she spoke, "But his muggle-repelling charms on the grounds must have collapsed. Those must be one of our first priorities."

"There is so much to do," she continued. "We must repair the charms placed on the building. We must clean out the building. We must create some kind of deterrent, lest some of Fred's townsfolk wander out here to see who bought this house."

Shen smiled and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Don't worry Mandisa! Rian's the best charms wizard I've ever seen. Give him a few days and he'll have the whole grounds covered. Trust me."

Mandisa smiled softly and shook her head, "I still would like to know where you found that man, he certainly is... unique."

"I met him at the Quidditch World Cup last year. He's friends with Geoff Mullet. We got to talking at the Green Apple afterwards. I've never seen the likes of him. Apparently, he's a half breed. Half Leprechaun, very rare. His mother used to live in a wood with a whole clan of them. She helped get rid of an Augurey that'd been picking them off for three months. The Chief of the clan took a shine to her and, well..." said Shen, chuckling, "I think that's why he's naturally good at charms. He's got a nice little place outside of Limerick that's something of a local legend. He placed some kind of charm on the woods around it that keeps any muggle from finding the house. They just wander around till they find their way out and they never remember a thing. He calls it a Defluodian charm. I've done research, but can't find anything like it in any of my books. It's something like a Confundus charm and a memory charm at once, but it only works on muggles and - so he says - people he doesn't feel like seeing. If for that reason alone, I thought he'd be valuable to have along."

Mandisa nodded, impressed, "Yes old friend, but can he teach what he knows?"

Shen's smiling eyes looked away across the grounds. "He'll be all right, we just have to get him to tone it down a bit. He's smart, but a born enthusiast."

"What kind of protection can he put on this place?"

"We talked about that last week. He wanted to do a Fidelius charm and have you write all the invitations."

"No," Mandisa replied, sternly. "If we do that, we will have to write to the parents as well. Otherwise they will not be able to find their children if need be. That defeats the purpose of protection spells. I like the sound of his Defluodian charm. I will speak to him about it."

They both looked at the house, now approaching the large creaking porch.

"It is a true shame," Mandisa said, her tone full of disappointment. "He did so much work, yet so little remains."

"But not gone completely, I think I saw a Bowtruckle in the woods the other day."

A wry grin flashed across Mandisa's face. "Yes, but I heard Doxies in the attic and Tara thinks she saw a patch of Bundimun in the basement."

Shen's eyes widened a bit.

"Oh, I'd better go down and have a look at that." Shen grinned mischievously. "I am the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, after all."

"Let us hope that it is the only unpleasant surprise that awaits us," she continued, giving him a meaningful look.

Shen looked uncomfortable for a moment.

"I can only assume, oh partner mine, that you are referring to our possible, shall we say, past-tense guests?"

They stopped at the foot of the front steps.

"I confess myself unsure about what to say about the subject to our new faculty, considering the rather unreliable and incomplete information we currently possess." Mandisa told him.

"Look," Shen rebutted, "if there is any truth to the story, I'll find out. Until we have something concrete to tell them, we would be guilty of telling ghost stories. Let's wait till we can act on fact."

Together, they climbed the creaking steps to the broad plank porch and turned around, staring out across the grounds.

Mandisa's brow creased. She appeared to be deep in thought as Shen looked at her. After a few quiet moments he began to dig into an inside pocket of his jacket, and produced a worn velvet drawstring pouch. He opened it, tipping a tarnished, bejeweled key into his hand. He flipped it dexterously through his fingers a few times and offered it to her.

"This is yours now... Headmistress."

She looked at him, eyes bright, before slowly reaching out and accepting the key. Weighing it in her hands, she contemplated it for a few seconds before walking to the front door and inserting it into the lock. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and turned.

There was a profound 'click', and a ringing tone that echoed throughout the house, across the lawns and through the empty forest.

After a minute, she spoke, her voice strong and clear.

"For what it is worth, the Blue Dragon School is open once again."

She opened the door, and they stepped inside.

The front hall was the confluence of four staircases, each sweeping and spiraling away to a different level. Balconies and landings hung at odd angles above them while sunlight attempted to shine down from many an unwashed skylight far above. The previously polished pine floor lay under a thick layer of dirt, dust and leaves. Hallways led away into the many wings of the huge house. A few footprints from their fellow faculty members led here and there - Rian's boots, Tara's Newington walking shoes, Thaddius' Birkenstocks, Shen's sandals and Mandisa's strange leather shoes. Only a few could be attributed to Fred's Hush Puppies. A fresh set were made by a pair of small, bare feet.

"Hmmm, Thaddius has let Zinks out of his suitcase," Shen noted, chuckling at the tiny footprints.

Mandisa, however, was not listening. She was staring up through the house, taking in the huge open space, her face a mystery.

Finally she spoke.

"This is mine now."

It had a note of finality in it.

Shen nodded. "Yes, yes it is. Now don't go getting all flustered on me, we've got plenty of work to do to keep you occupied. We've got furniture to unload, rooms to clean and a whole house to refit to our needs."

She looked at him sharply.

"I was not the one to suggest we promise a fall term," she reminded him. "We've got five people and one house elf to do all the work and we still need someone to cover History, Runes and Muggle Studies. And someone to give flying lessons if it comes to that. And we've only got three weeks till our first students arrive."

Shen's grin, a roguish, pan-like grin was almost irrepressible.

"Quit worrying so much. We'll find our teachers, don't you worry about that. And besides, we have plenty of extra help; Rian brought his 'little friends' along."

Mandisa looked like she'd swallowed a slug, the effect of Shen's 'reassurance.'

"I'm still a little confused about how he plans to control..."

She got no further in her question. At that moment a patter of quickly moving feet came from somewhere nearby in the house, coming closer at top speed.

With a startling SMASH, a foot-high hole exploded out of the baseboard, showering them in plaster dust and bits of wood. Shen's wand appeared in his hand as if it'd been there the entire time. A small blue creature wearing a tiny brass crown charged through the hole, skidding to a stop in the dust and looking wildly around for a way out.

Shen and Mandisa looked at each other and darted toward the miniature man, ready to grab him with outstretched hands.

It began to run, darting around them and skipping along the wainscoting. From behind them, the sound of wafflestompers thundered down the stairs and a brash Irish voice cried out.

"COME BACK HERE YE WEE LITTLE BUGGER!"

Into the room stumbled a tall, broad-shouldered man with bright red hair and bushy eyebrows, wand in hand, eyes searching the floor for the pixie.

He spotted his quarry and surged forward, trying to pin him into a corner before he ran away. But the pixie was too fast for him - it waited 'til the Irishman had almost closed his hand around him, then darted between his legs, laughing to beat the band.

But the wee blue man missed the sight of Shen aiming his wand at him, swiveling to follow him across the room.

As the faerie leapt, aiming for a broken window pane and the freedom beyond, Shen cried "Imoblius!" and the pixie's arms and legs froze in mid-air. It hit the windowsill with a thunk and bounced back across the room.

Rian jumped, wand leading, and caught the blue figure as it rolled to a stop, its miniature crown skittering across the floor and into the fireplace. Rian stood, holding his wand point up, the pixie dangling limply now, the tip lodged firmly up its left nostril. The little king, its bloodshot eyes wide, looked terrified.

"Yew daft little devil, where d'ya think yer goin' now?" he cried triumphantly, giving the wand a shake, making the little arms and legs flail.

"I've half a mind to fire a blasting curse up yer nose and send you back to Cornwall the hard way!"

The Headmistress spoke.

"Rian, what exactly is going on?"

Rian looked embarrassed.

"Little git picked the lock to his cage, Mum. Busted out as I was moving him inside. He's just havin' a bit o' fun."

"Yes. I see. And how many more of these creatures have you brought with you?"

"I figure about thirty, Headmistress, but once they hear my pipes, they'll do wha'ever ya ask them to, long as it's still playin'. Harmless as a sheep they are."

"And you're absolutely sure your pipes can control them," Mandisa questioned, her eyes on the fresh hole in the baseboard.

"Yes Headmistress, ye needn't be worryin' yer pretty head about that." Smiling, he added, "Me father's pipes work like a charm."

"Well," she said, her eyes turning to his as she spoke, "we put our trust in you Rian. I'm sure you will succeed in what you have been asked to do."

Rian swallowed hard.

"Yes Mum, I'll just be getting him back to his cage now," and he walked off, pixie still dangling by its nose like an abstract Popsicle, muttering Gaelic curses all the way.

Shen found Mandisa's eyes on him again.

He shrugged, "Never said it was a perfect plan, dearheart."

She sighed and shook her head.

They continued on through empty rooms and hallways slowly, working out a list of priorities. Cleaning first, construction second, furniture third. But before all, arrangements had to be made for lodging tonight, as they could ill afford to leave their new school.

They wandered around the first few floors for a half an hour before their roving footsteps brought them to a good sized kitchen at the back of the house. Bangings and mutterings could be heard behind the door and as they entered, they found the stuffy looking lady unpacking a Dean and DeLuca bag on a newly cleaned wooden table. A fire was burning merrily in a large cast iron stove, heating a shiny brass tea kettle.

She looked up as they entered, raising her eyebrows.

"Hello Tara," A smiling Mandisa said as she entered the room, followed by Shen, who closed the door behind them. "We signed the papers and have sent dear Fred away."

"Excellent." replied Tara, still unpacking small packages and tins from the bag. "Tea?"

"Yes, thank you," Mandisa replied, sitting down regally.

"I'll get it," Shen piped up. "You two ladies take a break - you'll get precious few the next few weeks."

They both nodded. As Shen busied himself spooning tea leaves into a sizeable brown teapot, Tara sat and began fixing herself food from the containers laid out before her. A small china plate was soon filled with a few slices of cheese, some salami, a spoonful of expensive relish and finally a few crackers topped with crème fraîche and a dollop of caviar. When the tea was ready, Shen delivered to each a steaming china cup. He glanced across the table at the expensive snack food that Tara was now eating with some display of enjoyment.

Finally he said, "Very refined tidbits my dear, my dear. I hope you don't expect us to cook like this for you every evening?"

She smiled slightly and replied, "Just because you people have dragged me out to this god-forsaken corner of the world does not mean I have to eat like a savage."

Shen laughed.

Tara paused with a cracker half way to her mouth and glanced at the Headmistress.

"Actually, do we have anyone for the kitchens? I know we've got Zinks, but he's..."

"...got to take care of Thaddius," Mandisa continued. "Dear Professor Thaddius could not do what he has to do without his loyal house elf. We are just lucky Zinks is willing to move with him".

"What then?" Tara asked. "Another house elf?"

Mandisa finished sipping her tea before she replied. "No, not another house elf."

"What then?"

Mandisa looked at her... and smiled slightly.

"We don't know," she finally replied, with a glance at Shen.

Tara sighed and shook her head with a 'not another thing' look.

"What are we to do when the children arrive?"

Mandisa sat up a little taller.

"We are all competent and intelligent Witches and Wizards, I am sure we will come up with a solution to this no doubt simple problem."

Despite herself, Tara felt reassured. The headmistress had spoken.

"Well and good. You're right headmistress, we'll figure it out."

Shen scratched his head.

"Yeah, no problem. I've got an idea... or two," he said.

They both looked at him. He winked and they both laughed.

"And Tara, there's nothing wrong with eating like a savage. When I went to visit Mandisa's home village for the first time, I ate like a king."

Mandisa nodded, sipping her tea. "We always feed guests well. Especially the guest of the local Sangoma."

"What was that stuff I ate all the time?"

She smiled knowingly. "Potijiekos, hunters stew."

"Yeah. That was good," Shen reminisced. "What was in it?"

"Trust me on this old friend, you don't want to know."

They laughed, even Shen, but he did grimace a bit.

They sat and talked for a while, sipping tea. Their voices were filled with excitement and apprehension. They talked of their future students and their classes. Practical problems and esoteric magic theories. After a while, the padding of bare feet sounded and a floppy eared house-elf with large, watery blue eyes bustled into the room. He wore a small scrap of blanket, his head sticking through a hole in the top and tied around his waist like a tunic. A small ring of frizzy white hair grew around his head and, oddly for a house-elf, he wore a pair of square brass reading glasses, tied around his neck with a piece of string. He flapped his arms distractedly as he hurried up to them.

"Ah! Misses! Sir, you needn't have made tea! I could have made it for you."

They all turned to look at him as he approached.

"'Allo Zinks," Shen started. "I see Thaddius let you out of your suitcase. Never mind about the tea, no big deal."

"Of course Master Shen, but if my mother'd seen the day I let my masters and mistresses make their own tea, why she'd roll over in her grave, sir."

"Hello Zinks," Mandisa said warmly. "Do you know where Thaddius is?"

"Still out poking around the greenhouse, Miss. I came to make him some tea and biscuits. Course, I have to get back before he wanders off," he added, shaking his head.

"I don't think he can get into that much trouble Zinks; there's nothing out there he can get eaten by... yet," Shen chuckled.

"Sorry sir, but he's already tried to climb up the outside of the greenhouse to see if some of the old dried vines have any green left in them."

Tara's eyebrow raised again as she stared archly over her teacup at the new headmistress.

"Are you absolutely sure this man is qualified to teach? I've heard of a forgetful professor but Mr. Adolesco seems to be barely functional on a daily basis."

Mandisa's eyes turned back toward her, "Thaddius Adolesco is a genius, Tara. As are you. His knowledge of magical plant life is second to none I've seen. There are very few growing things he does not know intimately. I think you will be pleasantly surprised as his educational aptitude."

"I don't doubt his talent, Headmistress, just his practicality."

"We'll keep him in line, Tara," Shen offered. "Besides, he's got an incredibly talented house elf to see him through."

He nodded at Zinks, now digging in a box for a tin of cookies.

"Thank you Master Wu!" Zinks replied when he emerged. "It's always nice to be appreciated. Don't worry mistress Olmstead, Zinks has been taking care of his master for many, many years now." He smiled wryly. "Zinks is not sure what he did to deserve such a great honor, but Zinks is pretty sure it must have been very great indeed."

With that, the house elf poured a cup of hot tea, added a generous dollop of cream, picked up his plate of cookies and flip-flopped off toward the rear of the house.

Shen chuckled, Tara looked surprised.

"Did that house elf just make a joke?" she asked.

Shen said "You have to understand, Zinks is rather a unique person. I often wonder who's in charge, him or his master."

They sat in silence a few minutes, finishing their tea.

Finally, Mandisa spoke. "Where are going to sleep tonight Tara?"

Tara sighed. "To be honest headmistress, I'm planning to get my telescope moved upstairs tonight. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to sleep until it's all ready. I'm too nervous."

The other two nodded. Tara's telescope was the reason she'd been hired. It was truly unique.

"You're not going to try and move it all yourself?" Shen asked. "That's a lot of boxes. Why not let Rian help you?"

Tara set her shoulders.

"Because I simply don't trust his little friends. Let them help with sweeping and carpentry, but my telescope is far too fragile to trust to a bunch of Cornish pixies, no matter what our new Charms teacher says."

Mandisa spoke, her voice calm but firm. "Rian assured us that he can control his charges."

"And I assure you I've spent the last five years of my life working on that device," Tara replied, a little hotly, "and I'll decide who touches it, not some Irish Quidditch hooligan."

Tara and Mandisa locked eyes. Tara's eyes were blazing, the Headmistresses^' were calm and searching.

Shen addressed himself as if to speak but Mandisa put a hand on his, silencing him.

"Very well Professor," she said finally^. "You must do as you see fit. I only urge you not to judge our fellow faculty by his outward appearance. We must all demonstrate the professional courtesy that this school is to be based on."

Tara relaxed, looking a touch embarrassed.

"Of course Headmistress. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it... I just..." she trailed off.

An uncomfortable silence spread like oil on water as Mandisa continued to gaze calmly at her new Professor and Tara looked everywhere but at her new Headmistress.

Finally, Shen broke the silence. "Hey, you two, how do you keep Lord Voldemort from stealing your cookies?"

They both looked at him, disbelieving.

"Put them in a Harry Potter!"

Groans followed, and some derisive chucking, but the tension lifted.

"That's horrible Shen," Mandisa said, shaking her head.

"Sorry, best I could do on short notice. Now, are we going to sit here all day or are we going to get to work, we've got unpacking to do and a school to start. C'mon! Up and at em', hup to! Miles to go before we sleep."

They rose with a scraping of chairs and a clatter of dishes, making their way back through the house toward the greenhouse.

"I think," said the Headmistress as they walked, "that we should get our whole staff together and begin unloading. I would like to have everything inside and safe before we call it a day."

The greenhouse, a long, long building built right off the back of the house, was a morbid forest of dried vines and shriveled foliage, baked brown from long years in the sun. Most of the windows, despite the years and elements, were still intact. They were, however, covered with dust and dirt, inside and out. They let in a dirty brown light that added to the dry aura of the place.

On the near end of the long room, a long series of counters, marble topped and dusty, formed a large enclosure filled with watering sinks, brass racks that held old glass bottle, alembics and retorts. In the midst, a number of cast iron tripods held rusty iron cauldrons.

Around this collection of equipment, Zinks the house elf could be seen, methodologically wiping a number of glass containers with a clean rag and a bottle of vinegar. He looked up as the staff entered down a half-staircase. He smiled and pointed toward a newly dirty figure amongst the dead foliage at the end of the nearest row.

Thaddius Adolesco, master Herbologist and Potion Master, was covered in dirt. His loose, open-necked linen shirt hung almost to his knees and was already stained tan and brown. His feet in his sandals were crusted with dirt and mud.

At the moment, he was happily pouring flower pots with dead plants into a large sifting tray and shaking the dirt from them. After each pot, he picked up the remains of the plants and deposited them lovingly into a growing pile to his left, mumbling all the time.

Thaddius never really stopped mumbling. His mouth was constantly moving, like a motor on idle. Occasionally, a recognizable scrap could be heard as a stronger or more important thought rose through his mind and crested the surface of his mouth, leaping briefly into audibility.

As the staff approached, his eyes stayed absorbed in his work, shifting from pot to sifter to pile with smooth, mechanical precision. They watched him for a minute. Then Mandisa spoke.

"Thaddius, may we speak to you for a second?"

He turned, or at least, part of him did. It seemed to take him a while to tear his mental effort away from those dry, dead plants. First he took a step back, but only with his legs, his hands kept working, his eyes on his project. Then his body started to twist, his head still toward his work, 'til finally, with some great inner effort, he managed to wrench his eyes away from his work and turned to address the speaker. He spoke with a breathy, child-like voice.

"Oh! Headmistress... um... Mr. Wu... Miss Olmstead, so good to see you. Quite a remarkable find... indeed... quite remarkable... who'd have thought it possible... but still, the former headmaster... I mean... with resources that we... but still... with a certain amount of time at our... still, such quality... and not at all a waste, even after all this time. I should be able to... with the right equipment... something... extraordinary? No?"

"Thaddius?"

"Of course the quality of the end product..."

"Thaddius?"

"Not what I'd consider up to my normal standards of..."

"THADDIUS!"

"What? Oh, yes Headmistress?"

"We are prepared to begin unpacking. Is there anything you require?"

"What? Oh, no Headmistress, quite enough to be getting on with here I should think. Of course, over the course of the next few days... then of course there is the potting... but with the correct fertilizers... should have some reasonable samples within... then I shall use... but... my word, is that a Sneezewort plant?"

With that he was off, walking past them all toward a large, dead, dried up plant in an over sized copper pot down the row.

They all stared after him for a while. Finally Tara spoke.

"And this is why I am concerned."

"I wouldn't worry about it, miss," said a voice behind them. Zinks was walking forward with a clipboard and a stubby pencil.

"I'll take care of him. He'll no doubt work 'til he passes out tonight. I'll just settle him down on his cot when he does, no problem there. We've got a few boxes I'd like unpacked first. My cleaning supplies and our garden tools'd be favorite, Mistress."

He tore a piece of paper off his clipboard and handed it to Mandisa.

"We've got a lot of work to do in here if we're going to have something to teach in three weeks, Miss. It's gonna take a lot of dragon dung to make this look like a greenhouse once again."

"Will you be ready to teach, Zinks?" the headmistress intoned seriously.

Zinks scratched his head and squinted around.

"It'll be close Mistress, I don't know but some of the first lessons'll be a little thin. But we'll be ready. We've got a lot of room to work with. It'll be a nice place once we clean the dirt off and get some growing things in here."

"Thank you Zinks. We will see that it is delivered to you. I am sure that..."

But she trailed away, her head tilting to a faint noise that drifted to them from outside. A faint, high pitched piping that grew louder by the second.

It was a jaunty sound. A rollicking sound. It seemed to caper and dance around them. They all felt it like a lemon sweet breeze. Tara began tapping her foot despite herself.

It was soon followed by another sound, keeping time with the beat, a trip-trop rhythm growing louder.

Shen smiled.

"I think," he said, "that Mr. Borrial has brought out his little army."

Then they saw them. Marching in a neat little blue line around the corner of the house, their double-file ranks trooping along with military precision. Feet rising and falling in perfect time, arms swinging to the beat. Thirty Cornish pixies marched up to the side door of the greenhouse. Without missing a beat, the first pixie dropped to his hands and knees, another dropped next to him. Another clambered onto his back and another, and another. Forming a pixie pyramid like a troop of circus acrobats till the top one was close enough to the door to reach out and latch on to the handle. His weight twisted the latch and a few more pixies leapt forward to the door jam. As they pulled the door open, the pyramid smoothly dissolved back into its rigid marching order, leaving two pixies waiting beneath the doorknob, arms outstretched and hands clasped to each others. When the door opened far enough to admit them, the pixie on the doorknob dropped and the two beneath him caught him neatly and the three rejoined the parade.

Behind them, Rian marched, wand in hand, levitating a small reed pipe before him that was the source of the lively music. He walked in behind them as they marched their little formation into the greenhouse and lined up smartly in front of the lab tables. Turning and standing at what, for a pixie, was probably attention.

The music played on as Rian walked forward, grinning sheepishly.

"Cornish Pixies Patrol reporting for duty mum."

Mandisa smiled, Shen grinned and Tara frowned.

"Good work, Professor Borrail. You are to be congratulated. Now," Mandisa said, pulling out her long thin wand of madrone wood, "let us be about our work."

The next eight hours were a blurry confusion that would have made an O'Hare air traffic controller shudder. To his credit, Rian's pixies performed admirably. They all marched to the group's van, actually belonging to Shen, and began unloading.

The van, an ancient microbus, had been grossly modified by Shen. The rear doors opened to reveal a space the size of a small warehouse. Boxes, bags, luggage, crates, rolls of carpeting and piles of furniture had been neatly arranged in order of need.

To her credit, Tara Olmstead allowed the pixies to unload her telescope, packaged in many, many wooden crates. Each marked with glowing 'FRAGILE' signs and numbered with care. She would not, however, allow them to carry them up the many stairs to the 'lighthouse' or observatory on the top of the house. She insisted on levitating each one by herself, one at a time, winding up through the house and storing each one carefully and gently away before making her way down for the next one.

Shen, Mandisa and Rian, wands in hand, levitated packages and directed the pixies for hours as they delivered boxes and bales to all corners of the house. A pixie conga line wound around walls, through broken doors and throughout the maze of passages and corridors. They were invaluable, each carrying many times their own weight.

As evening fell, they gathered again in the dusty kitchen for an impromptu meal of deli sandwiches and cold soda pop. Tara sniffed at the food, but ate ravenously before returning to her solitary delivery service.

It wasn't fancy, but as midnight drew nigh the van slowly emptied. Mandisa had chosen an office at the front of the house, its windows overlooking the grounds. She took the last of her boxes, her personal luggage and effects, and excused herself. Of the five, it is probable that she slept best. She cleared herself a corner of her chambers and conjured up a bed for herself. She spent a few minutes in her private bathroom, hanging her toothbrush and toiletries up for the morning and collapsed on her bed, tired but happy. She thought she'd be up all night worrying about her new school, but to her surprise, sleep came almost at once.

Shen took the last of his boxes up to his rooms, a large, open classroom full of empty bookshelves and filled now with boxes. An adjoining bedroom was cramped but boasted a small cast iron stove. He made himself a final cup of tea and took one last patrol of the house before turning in at one in the morning, kipping on a sleeping bag laid over his boxes.

Rian locked his pixies up and drove the van out to the barn. He magically locked the doors and walked back to the house across the wide grounds. He smiled up at the stars as he walked, singing a tune...

"Musha ring dumma do damma da... whack for the daddy 'ol...there's whiskey in the jar..."

He made one final trip to the kitchens for a late-night sandwich and an illicit glass of Irish whiskey before turning in, sleeping in an out of the way bedroom near the kitchen with his pixies locked in cage next to him, already snoring.

True to Zinks' prediction, Thaddius worked until two. Zinks found him asleep at a potting bench, head in his hands. He roused him enough to lead him to a cot, bedded him down and covered him with a blanket against the chilly fall air creeping into the greenhouse. He then pulled an old, battered leather suitcase out of a corner, flipped it open and crawled inside, pulling the lid closed after him. Soon twin snores could be heard echoing through the dusty greenhouse... as master and servant slept their way through the night toward dawn.

Tara was indeed the last to turn in. She continued her solo task until three, checking each of her boxes, now safely stored in her tower, against a neat checklist. When she finished, she checked it again, until she was satisfied that all the boxes were indeed there and accounted for. Only then did she pull the packing blankets off an old armchair and collapse into it, peeling off her glasses and rubbing her eyes.

She slept there, in her chair, feet propped on one of her crates and head lolling.

She roused briefly at six, thinking she heard a strange sound, but fell back asleep almost immediately.

It was thus that no one in the house saw the pair of 4x4 trucks pull out of the woods, drive across the grounds, and park behind one of the outbuildings...