Harry Potter Squib Tales Chapter 96: Bluegrass (Patreon)

Chapter 96: Bluegrass

“Well, well, well. This is a pleasant surprise,” I hummed to myself, reading the Daily Prophet.

The morning after the Quidditch World Cup, the Ministry of Magic released a few statements, but kept it vague.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t suppress the knowledge for long, and thanks to Sirius and I leaning on our press connections, we managed to plaster the papers with news about what had happened.

Quidditch Monthly and Witch Weekly, along with the Quibbler, reported everything they could, including praise for Madam Bones’ quick thinking and clever decisions to trap the Death Eaters and round them up before they could do anything.

We also slipped in some unsubtle condemnation of the Ministry for allowing marked Death Eaters to go free, and criticisms of the current government for their far too lenient reactions to past offenders.

Things were also leaking from the Ministry, as well as rumors swirling from certain people in the Wizengamot. And today, two days after the terrorist attack at the World Cup, the Daily Prophet released a list of people who’d been captured, and who’d resisted arrest and gotten put down like the rabid dogs they were.

I recognized a few names. Learning that MacNair was dead was a new result, but so were the Carrow twins. And then there was the fact that the son of Tavin Selwyn had been arrested. The Selwyns were an old family who sat on the Wizengamot and were a strong backer of the Dark Faction. His son being caught dressed up as a Death Eater was going to badly hurt his political base.

Not everyone got caught. The Prophet mentioned as such and urged people to come forward to the Aurors if they knew anything about somebody who had participated in the World Cup Riot. But it was enough to know that a lot of people who’d escaped justice at the end of the first war were now properly punished.

“The Dark Faction has just taken a major hit,” I said aloud. “Can’t wait to see how Cyrus capitalizes on this.”

The Gold Faction was its own power bloc in all but name. Cyrus had yet to officially split away from the Grey Faction, but it was clear that his old group in the Wizengamot was now heavy divided between his supporters and the ones who were still refusing to take a side.

‘I have a feeling the chaos caused at the World Cup will be the catalyst he needs to sever ties to the old creed and start pushing for the Gold Faction to fully step out from the Grey Faction’s shadow.’

“Do you have to talk about politics in the morning?” Harry asked, grumpily spooning cereal into his mouth.

“Only if you man up and send Susan a letter!” I retorted, looking over the rim of the paper at the teenager. “You’ve earned points for sending one immediately after the Death Eater thing to make sure she was okay, but you’re still not back to talking with her!”

“But what else can I do?” Harry whined.

“Talk to her! I just said that! Ugh, teenagers,” I huffed. “Awash with hormones and full of foolishness. I do not miss those days.”

We were silent for a bit, before Harry asked, “What are you gonna do today?”

“After I spend some time in the office, I’m heading to America. Need to check out the super-farms I’ve been developing with Cyrus,” I told my brother from another mother. “And yourself?”

“Ron invited me over for a pick-up game of Quidditch,” Harry said.

I held in a snort at that. The Boy Who Lived had been in Quidditch fever since the World Cup. He wasn’t alone, either. Ron and the other Gryffindor boys had been eager to do some broom riding, and they’d been going over to the Weasleys ever since.

“Alright, bring your broom home with ya,” I told him. “And be safe!”

I always am,” Harry snarked, and I simply raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief, causing him to huff.

Feeling smug at my victory over a teenager, I finished breakfast and headed down to the office. Now that Avalon Industries was expanding, a new space was required, so I bought space in an office building that Sir Briar owned. I got an excellent deal on it.

Avalon Industries had a sky scraper, now, and I was planning on doing plenty of things with the space. It wasn’t just a place for the people who worked in the various companies I owned, I was going to turn the structure into a little bit of everything.

Marketing and PR would have offices here, as would sales. Potion and rune R&D labs would be set up as well, along with plenty of office space for my newest ventures: Philosopher’s Stone experiments and trying to combine Arithmancy with computer code.

The latter was something I’d long wanted to do, but never got around to doing because of how busy I was with potions and alchemy. And, well, Arithmancy wasn’t my best subject. It was another branch of math. A lot more metaphysical than algebra or geometry, but still based around complex numbers and equations.

Same with programming. I knew a tiny bit of Java from my old life, but that didn’t really exist yet and the computer language used right now wasn’t something I was familiar.

Thankfully, I could hire people to do the Arithmancy and programming for me! And that was what they’d be doing, as soon as I figured out a way to set things up.

My new office was huge, and located at the very top of the building. I rather liked the view, but had made sure it was heavily warded by the dwarves before I moved in properly.

Alongside the lovely windows that looked out over London – and could stop a tank shell if need be – there was pair of shelves on each wall filled with different things, like books and antiques. My desk and chair were also impressive, being made from the repurposed hull of an old Viking longship that had sunk in the English Channel centuries ago. I loved the carved dragon mast heads that had been turned into armrests for my fancy chair!

A magic carpet sat on the floor, acting as an emergency getaway vehicle if I ever needed to vacate the building quickly and Portkeys or Apparation didn’t work, plus it could also trip and tangle any intruders.

Last but not least, several magical paintings hung on the walls, including one of me. It was a bit pompous, but the fun thing was that it was another layer of defense.

Like all magical portraits, it wasn’t really alive, just a copy of my memories and personality magically infused into paint and canvas. It made for a convincing effigy of life, though, and could travel between the different paintings elsewhere in the building, acting like a security camera.

Was it a breach of privacy? Not really, since I also had actual security cameras in different places, and there were no paintings anywhere like the bathrooms. It was just an extra smidge of protection for my ease of mind.

Getting to work, I began to go over the various documents I needed to sign, as well as checked the reports from the different branches of company.

Thanks to the miraculous power of delegation, I had less paperwork to do these days, but I still had to spend at least four hours working through the stuff that did need my personal signature and attention.

‘I’ve said it once, and I’ve said it again, but I need a damn Time Turner!’ I grumbled to myself.

Had Hermione used one last year? I’d have to ask Harry that. Maybe since she hadn’t needed to use it to save Sirius she’d decided to keep it for her Fourth year?

‘Wonder if I can bribe somebody in the Department of Mysteries to get my hands on a Time Turner?’ I mused.

Finally, though, the last of my work was done, and I took an early lunch. I invited a few of my investors out for a meal, schmoozing and boozing with the rich and powerful to better improve my relations with them.

After that, I took a short trip to my different businesses, dropping in to say ‘hi’ to Mike at the dump and Merula at the potion workshop. I even visited the offices for Waverider International Shipping.

I enjoyed stopping by. It let me remind the people working for me I knew they existed and mattered, and I could listen to any issues that might get lost while trying to be sent up the ladder. I liked to think I was cementing my status as an approachable boss and leader, as well as earning the loyalty of my employees this way.

When it was three in the afternoon, I returned to my office so I could finally take a Portkey across the pond to my next appointment with Carmichael Bluegrass.

“Business meeting with Blue and Green,” I said aloud, picking up a gold fountain pen.

The disguised Portkey ripped me away from the office, and I was soon stumbling around in my room in the Ruby Manor.

Having reached New Orleans instantly, I wasn’t hit with any jetlag, but it was a bit disorienting. I’d noticed that suddenly going from one time zone to another gave me whiplash. Very unpleasant, but at least it only lasted a couple seconds.

Once I recovered, I stepped out of the office the Portkey had brought me to, and nodded in greeting to the head maid.

“Morning, Carlotta,” I said. “Can you get Lou to bring the car around for my meeting?”

“Of course, sir,” the woman – who I still couldn’t tell how old she was, or if she was even human – replied with a nod. “He is ready and waiting.”

“Always on top of things, eh?” I chuckled.

“Considering you informed us days in advance about this meeting, of course we could prepare properly,” she replied with a haughty sniff.

I just nodded and descended down to the foyer, before exiting through the front doors out into the front lawn and driveway. Just as Carlotta had promised, an elegant car was waiting for me.

My ride was not a limo, but a genuine, ruby red Rolls-Royce Silver Dawn. Not just that, but it was a Park Ward Drophead Coupe model, a custom-built car at the requests of individual clients, and thus only one of seven ever made (officially, only six were made, the Lost Seventh having been made for the Flamels in secret).

Known as the Ruby Dream, numerous runes filled the interior, turning it into a mobile bunker capable of shrugging off all sorts of abuse. Add in an Expanded Space enchantment that turned the backseats into a lovely little lounge that didn’t lose out to a stretch limousine, and all the finest things a man could ask for, from radios, a TV, and a mini-fridge complete with authentic French champagne and Belgian chocolate, the Flamel’s former personal vehicle was an amazing ride.

The Ruby Dream also had ridiculous miles-to-the-gallon thanks to an expanded fuel tank, and was very ecofriendly thanks to a transmutation enchantment that turned water into gasoline, and then another enchantment that turned the exhaust back into water vapor.

“Ready to go, sir?” Lazy Lou, the chauffeur attached to the Ruby Manor, asked, tipping his cap at me as I exited.

“Yes, thank you,” I replied. “You know where to go?”

“Sure do, sir!” Lou nodded, opening the door for me. “Miss Carlotta gave me the directions.”

“Wonderful,” I said as I settled down into the plush, red upholstery of the backseats.

Lou closed the door and then got into the driver’s seat, and we pulled out of the Ruby Manor’s driveway and got onto the road.

Our destination was a small farm around an hour outside of New Orleans, a testbed site for the experimental agriculture business I was starting.

Driving up to the farm, the roads eventually turned from paved asphalt to dirt, but I didn’t notice thanks to the comfort and suspension charms keeping the car completely level.

I was soon able to see the farm in question out the window, and leaned in a bit to get a better look. There was a pair of red barns, one to the east, the other on the opposite side to the west, and in between them were rows of greenhouses, all magically enchanted to contain the perfect conditions for the various plants I planned to grow in them.

The whole farm was fenced in with a plain, whitewashed wooden fence, upon which I could see a few runes. The place was also protected by a series of wards which would ensure Muggles would never notice us. Finally, there was a long, white farmhouse that had been converted into an office for the people who’d be working here, set up next to an expanded parking lot that could fit a dozen trucks.

Waiting for me in front of the farmhouse, leaning on the porch, was none other than Carmichael Bluegrass, head of the Greengrass branch family in the United States, who greeted me with a grin and a firm handshake as soon as I exited the Rolls-Royce.

He still looked like a stereotypical cowboy oil baron with his ten-gallon hat and spurs on his leather cowboy boots, but I knew it was just a ploy to get uptight Purebloods to drop their guard.

“Welcome, welcome, Mr. Rose!” he said jovially. “Was the trip over easy?”

“Couldn’t have been smoother,” I told my business partner. “How have the purchases been going?”

“Quite well, indeed!” Mr. Bluegrass told me. “We’ve bought up plenty of the land you wanted here in New Orleans, and have gotten permits to start buying along the East and West Coasts. And that’s just for your shipping companies! The rest of the land for the potion workshops and farms has been going well.”

He then began to walk off, and I followed. He didn’t stop talking, though. “We’ve got farmland in Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama, and are working on setting up the necessary wards to begin growing magical plants. And the magical greenhouses are coming along well. Getting ranches set up for the magical beasts is taking a lot longer, though.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Harder to hide living creatures that eat, shit, and move around lot while making noises,” Carmichael replied, to which I could only nod.

“I wonder if we could get help from Newt Scamander?” I mused aloud.

“Good luck with that,” my business partner snorted. “He’s a very busy man.”

That was true. The famous naturalist was in great demand with a lot of different groups. Gold would probably help move things along, though. As would the conservationist’s genuine desire to help grow the number of magical beasts.

‘I’m sure a generous donation from the Greenrose Agricultural Concern will help convince him to help us,’ I thought as we walked along.

The Greenrose Agricultural Concern was the company I’d founded to take care of the ingredient growing in the Americas. It was jointly owned by me and the Greengrasses, and was a massive step forward for Avalon Industries, being my first international corporation.

It was also a duel company that had fingers in both the mundane side of the world, as well as magical. I was going to use it to challenge the big corpo-farms like Monsanto while also paving the way for establishing everything I needed to control the supply of magical ingredients.

“What can you tell me about this place?” I inquired, looking around curiously.

“This was an old, privately owned soybean farm,” Carmichael explained. “Sixty-two acres of land. Previously owned by the Mills family, but they stopped the farming lifestyle a couple years ago when Sylvester Mills passed away. I acquired the land for a decent price since it was riddled with debt.”

He then waved a hand at the surroundings. “As for what we’ve done here, we raised ten enchanted greenhouses with expanded interiors. In total, there’s roughly three hundred acres worth of land based on what’s contained within the expanded spaces.”

“And what are you growing in there?” I wondered.

“Four greenhouses are dedicated entirely to Dittany,” Carmichael informed me. “The rest are divided between a few different magical plants, mainly ones used in consumer products and potions. We currently have Mallowsweet, mosaic flowers, and Alihotsy.”

I nodded at that. Dittany needed no introductions, really. It was a green herb that was the key component in most healing potions and salves. The stuff was potent, too, and existed with a mundane variant that meant it was quite easy to use in my pharmaceutical business.

Mallowsweet was an herb that was, as its name implied, rather sweet tasting, and looked kinda like a green, four-pointed star with orange flowers. It was an artificial sweetener in Butterbeer and other wizarding candies, but if burnt and inhaled, the smoke could help sharpen one’s vision, making a person’s eyesight good enough to observe the stars without a telescope. As such, it was an ingredient in the potion that was used to cure blindness and nearsightedness.

Mosaic flowers were a magical, red-stemmed flower similar to the lotus in that it needed a wet environment to grow in. No two flowers were the same, either, as when they bloomed, their petals were always different colors. One mosaic flower could have red, pink, and blue spotted petals, while another might have silver, black, and orange stripes. The only constant was a yellow, cup-shaped bloom at the center of the plant that appeared during the summer. This yellow blossom was harvested as an important ingredient in many types of potions, including magical shampoos and dyes.

Alihotsy leaves, on the other hand, were very important to me for one reason: they were a vital ingredient in the Memory Potion, as well as in the potion Merula had invented to help with Alzheimer’s and dementia. Such, they could be used as a flavoring in different desserts or as a cure for depression, but it was the memory enhancing effects I absolutely needed them for.

All four of the plants being grown right now were the sort that had many different uses and were always in demand by both potioneers and confectioners, meaning a constant source of profits.

“Excellent choices,” I praised. “What about the barns?”

“Storage for the tools, seeds, and fertilizers, as well as anything else the farm might need,” Carmichael stated.

“And the wards?”

“All the standard ones for avoiding being spotted, and of course there’s your special one,” the businessman said, shooting me a look. “I must say, I’ve never seen such an incredible map-ward! Letting us track the employees as well as intruders, and being capable of determining their status… marvelous!”

“I’ll relay your praise to the creators. Just hope they don’t get too big a head,” I chuckled.

Yes, that’s right, I’d included the magical maps that the Marauders had invented as part of the wards here. All of my businesses and properties back in England had them, and since I was expanding, ensuring my American locations have the same was a given.

Carmichael wasn’t the only one floored by combination ward and enchantment system. Cyrus and Amelia both were stunned when Sirius and Remus had showed it off to them, and both had demanded they get copies for themselves.

“So, when can we expect the farm to start working?” I asked, changing the topic.

“Oh, it already has,” Carmichael said, before letting out a loud belly laugh at the expression on myself.

“Really? That’s fast,” I commented, surprised.

“Maybe, but Cyrus and I wanted to get the experiment started as soon as possible. We have three dozen workers, and they’re all possessing at least OWL level in Herbology,” he said. “And so far, it’s going well. The current model is successful, so we’ll be repeating it at the other farms.”

“Not all of the farms will be using greenhouses, though,” I pointed out.

Enchanted greenhouses were very useful, but somewhat expensive. Especially the magically expanded ones. We’d need to diversify with regular fields to cut down on costs.

“True, but those we can use mundane farmers and workers on, since we’ll be using the non-greenhouse farms to grow low-magic plants that have minimal requirements and don’t even need magic to take care of or harvest.”

“Clever,” I said with a nod. “Will you use Oath-Binding Ink just as a precaution?”

“We are. Your idea to use it to enforce NDAs is inspired, and will definitely help us keep the secret of magic if we have to use regular people in our businesses,” Carmichael said.

“Yeah, we are definitely going to need to hire non-magical workers. Lots of ‘em, if we want to fully staff our experiments, special projects, and other businesses.”

It was true, as based on the scale of expansion Cyrus and I were planning on here in the United States, we were looking at hiring ten thousand new employees within a few years, and that number would only grow the more our business interests grew.

“And speaking of business, will you finally tell me who the mystery guest you’ve wanted me to meet is?” I asked, somewhat jokingly.

“All in good time!” he assured me. “He’ll be ready for you once we’re done with the tour.”

I nodded, and began to look around the farm with an eye towards the defenses. “You mentioned wards, but what about security guards?” I asked.

“We are looking into a few. Probably won’t need more than one per shift, though. Farms aren’t exactly dangerous places,” Carmichael chuckled.

“See if you can hire any vampires for the nightshift, I suggested. “It’s what I do.”

“Vampires?” Carmichael asked, taken aback.

“Yes. Also, look around for werewolves for the dayshift. They do good work,” I said. “Oh, and maybe some hags, too. They’re good at both potions and herbology, and I have a feeling a couple of them working on the farm would add a bit of extra protection.”

“Hm. Yes, I can see that,” Carmichael hummed thoughtfully, though from his tone, it felt like I had just passed some sort of test.

‘Was he afraid I’d be like the rest of the Europeans and disdain non-human workers?’ I wondered. That was the most likely thing.

The Americas were choke-full of different races. It was the largest melting pot in the world, both for magic and the mundane, and though it still had some issues on both sides regarding integration, I’d be able to find all sorts of talented people who’d be willing to work for me if I just broadened my search parameters.

“Now, this is the most interesting part, at least for me,” Carmichael said as he opened the door to one of the greenhouses.

The interior was massive, far more than ten times the size of the exterior, and that was already quite large. Each greenhouse didn’t cover a lot of land, maybe a single acre’s worth, but inside it must have been close to thirty acres thanks to expansion charms.

I whistled, very impressed, and looked around. This particular greenhouse was one of the Dittany ones, and I bent down to examine the beautiful, fuzzy purple blossoms currently blooming from the rows upon rows of herbs.

“How are people going to harvest all of this?” I asked after checking the soil quality.

“Well, gardening charms, mostly,” Carmichael replied. “That’s part of the reason we chose these particular plants to start with. They can be harvested via magic without compromising their worth as ingredients.”

“And what about the empty space on the farm?” I wondered. “The expanded greenhouses don’t cover all sixty-plus acres.”

“We have some ideas for making use of the spare space,” Carmichael assured me. “Either adding new greenhouses in the future, or planting something mundane, like wheat or soybeans.”

I nodded. That was a good idea. Maximizing the use of space on the farm by planting edible crops would bring in more money. Because there could always be more food being grown.

‘I’m still providing relief and aid to Rwanda, so extra food wouldn’t be amiss over there,’ I thought.

When we were done examining the farm, Carmichael led me back to the ranch house turned office, where he let us in. Then, he led me to a room in the back which turned out to be a breakroom.

Inside, a man with greying hair and a tweed jacket was waiting, sipping a cup of instant coffee.

“Hello,” the man said. “Edward Rose, yes? A pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure as well, Mr. Mason,” I said, unable to keep the awe out of my voice.

Thomas Mason, one of the leaders of the Second American Revolution, as the Muggleborn uprising was called amongst the Americans. He was a Muggleborn himself, one of the many who’d been kidnapped from his family in the fifties and forcibly raised in an overcrowded orphanage.

Through his curiosity, Thomas had, as a teenager, gone looking for his original family, never having believed the lies about being saved from abusive, magic-hating parents. He was not the only one, but Thomas was smart enough to actually plan his investigations and lucky enough to succeed.

The rest, as they say, was history. He learned the truth, and began to help his fellow Muggleborn find their own parents. This inevitably led to Thomas leading a group of Muggleborn who wanted to right the wrongs they’d suffered, which led to their group becoming a leading cell in the burgeoning revolution.

Thomas Mason wasn’t a firebrand. He was, in fact, the moderating influence on the rest of the revolutionaries. It was his level-headed work in coordinating the takeover that allowed it to be relatively bloodless, and kept other countries and the ICW from interfering.

He’d served one term as a presidential Cabinet Member, acting as the liaison between the magical side and the mundane government, and now worked in the Department of Magic as head of the Bureau of Secrecy, which was the American branch of keeping the Statute under wraps.

Hearing the excitement in my voice, Thomas chuckled a little. “I must say, most people from across the pond don’t sound nearly as enthusiastic to meet me. A nice change of pace.”

“You’re an inspiration,” I said honestly. “Change isn’t easy, and revolutions are rarely as clean as they one you helped orchestrate. I can only hope to be as effective as you in the future.”

At that, he nodded, a stern expression crossing his face. “Yes. Carmichael did mention you were worried about the Statute’s inevitable fall. I admit, it is a fear of my own."

“It’ll happen sooner than we'd all like,” I said, shaking my head. “Ten years, minimum. At best… fifty.”

“Five decades,” Thomas murmured. “So sure?”

“Have you seen how fast technology is progressing in the mundane world?” I asked him. “I’ve been investigating Silicon Valley and tech companies for investment purposes, and let me tell you, some of the things I’m seeing are absolutely insane. Betamax used to be the pinnacle of data storage. Now they’re saying they can put entire movies on a compact disc in a few years time!”

I gave Carmichael and Thomas a knowing look. “If they can do that, what is stopping them from accidentally inventing something that can pierce our wards, or detect our magic? Already it’s gotten to the point that magic is unable to hide fully thanks to cameras, both video and photographic. Imagine what'd happen if a tourist in France takes a picture of a building, only to later see when the film develops that there was actually a second, hidden structure within frame?”

“We have anti-photo wards now,” Thomas pointed out, though from his tone I knew he was playing Devil’s Advocate.

“And that took decades to develop after the fact,” I reminded him. “Not to mention the logistics of trying to ward literally every single magical building and site in existence. There are plenty of locations that are hard to ward as well for one reason or another and have only survived due to anonymity."

“Interesting,” Thomas hummed. “Carmichael was right. You do see the issue quite clearly.”

He leaned back in his seat, swirling his coffee around in his cup. “I have to say, I believe the same. My estimate was a hundred years… those this was back in the sixties and seventies. One of the reasons I pushed so hard for the transition of power to be as smooth as possible, in fact. I’ve done my best to set things up so that when magic does become impossible to hide from the wider world, the impact will be mitigated slightly.”

“What sort of things are you doing to prepare?” I wondered curiously.

“Small things, really,” he admitted. “More media portraying magic in good – or at least neutral – light. I’ve also had some agents discreetly ‘handle’ a bunch of religious groups, removing the priests and preachers who have spoken out against ‘magic,’ ‘witchcraft,’ and the like, as well as those who espouse racist, bigoted views, and replaced them with men and women who preach good deeds and kindliness to all, regardless of race or creed.”

“Ah, like the KKK and the Southern Baptists,” I guessed, and he nodded.

“I’ve cut those groups apart quite thoroughly, but it’s not possible to get rid of them all,” Thomas sighed sadly. “Hate exists because it makes idiots easier to control. All I can do is teach the young the right ways.”

“I should do the same on my end,” I mused. “I have plans for an entertainment publishing company of my own. I may need to speed those up though.”

“And what have you been doing to make the fall of the Statute easier to handle?” Thomas wondered.

For a moment, I considered telling them about the Flamels’ plan for giving everyone magic, but I hesitated. The less who knew, the better, and I didn’t want to give the game away just yet. Not while I was still working on a method to turn everyone into a mage.

Instead, I described my more mundane plans. “For the most part, I’ve been creating jobs that require mundane and magical people to work together. Get them to used to integration on a smaller scale,” I replied. “It’s sort of a testbed to see what methods work, and what don’t.”

“An interesting method,” Thomas hummed. “Do you believe that this will help in the long run?”

“I do,” I replied. “There’s also the education I’ve been giving to Muggleborns and their families. I recently took them to the Quidditch World Cup to show them the magical sports, and have been doing other things to explain how the magical side works to those who are newcomers to it all. This way, I hope to remove any biases and misconceptions that might occur.”

I shrugged. “Unfortunately, for all my vision, I don’t really have a lot of power. Much of what I’m doing is limited by my own lack of resources. You have the power of the American government at your back, and yet you’ve only been able to do so much, so I sadly have fewer hopes for wide-spread success on my end.”

“You shouldn’t give up so easily,” Carmichael urged. “I’ve heard about the stuff you’re buying up and stockpiling. Not just cures for magical diseases, but wand wood and other ingredients that will be necessary to keep close at hand when the barriers finally fall. Preparation is just as important!”

I bobbed my head in thanks towards his words, and Thomas nodded along.

“You’ve already done more than most,” he assured me. “As long as you keep going, we can work together to mitigate the worst of the damage.”

He was confident, I’d give him that, I and agreed with his words. We talked a bit more about different topics, mostly the logistics of how a country as massive as the U.S. handled its widespread and diverse magical population.

“Hmm, it appears we’ve lost track of time,” Thomas said an hour into our discussion as he glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m afraid I must be going soon.”

“Same for me,” I agreed, holding back a yawn. It was technically late evening for me, and I shook hands with the man, glad to have gotten a chance to speak with him on the matter of magical secrecy and integration.

“Ah, and before I forget, you should expect a meeting from some, shall we say, ‘friends’ of mine over in London soon,” Thomas warned me as I prepared to leave.

I raised an eyebrow at that, but nodded, and bid Carmichael farewell before making my way to the car.

“All good, Mr. Rose?” Lou asked as he opened the door for me.

“That was a very productive meeting,” I said as I got in, pleased by the outcome of the visit to the farm.

I had no doubt that it would be quite successful, and the model would go from experimental to a fine-tuned, well-oiled machine that would be replicated on other farms. I couldn’t wait! Soon, there’d be a lot more potion ingredients available for me.

‘And, since I’m a business partner, I’m able to buy everything I need at slightly over market value,’ I thought with a grin.

Once the farms really got going, I’d be able to expand my potion business even further, and I was

‘Not to mention, Carmichael is already getting a potion lab ready for me near New Orleans. The first American branch of Cauldron Remedies will soon be ready to start churning out potions and poultices!’ I mused, my grin growing even wider.

“Glad to hear that everything went well today,” Lou replied from the driver’s seat. “Shall we head back to the manor?”

“Yes, I do believe that’d be for the best,” I replied, stifling a yawn. “It’s gotten late. At least for me.”

It was getting close to midnight, London time, and I still needed some sleep if I wanted to get my work done tomorrow.

“Of course, sir,” Lou replied, turning on the engine. “We’ll be back in a jiffy.”

He pulled the car out of the farm’s parking lot, and began to drive back to the Ruby Manor. The ride was nice and smooth, and I felt myself beginning to nod off.

Not wanting to fall asleep in the backseat, as it would give me back pains in the morning, I started up a conversation.

“How’re things doing at the manor, Lou?” I inquired. “Anything that needs to be brought to my notice?”

“No sir, Mr. Rose,” Lou assured me. “If there were, Miss Carlotta would let you be the first to know.”

“I see. That’s a relief to hear,” I murmured. “And how about yourself, Lou? How’s the family?”

My chauffeur chuckled at my attempt at small talk, but replied anyways. “Doing well. My daughter graduated from Ilvermony this year with a Bachelor’s in Runes.”

“Runes, eh?” I hummed. “And a Bachelors? Not bad. Is she aiming for a Masters?”

“Sure is!” Lou said proudly.

After the United States forcibly integrated the Confederation of Magic, it changed a lot of things, education included.

Instead of teaching students from the ages eleven to seventeen, it now taught ages eight to twenty. Furthermore, it opened up a University branch, so its students could learn college-level magical studies.

This meant that instead of graduating at seventeen, students could keep going, attending college classes meant for learning more magical topics. Or, they could go to some other University if they wanted. But most stuck around Ilvermony.

As for how things worked diploma-wise, the OWLs were the equivalent of graduating Middle School while NEWTs were a High School diploma. From there, a Bachelor’s degree was the same as being a Journeyman (or woman) in a magical topic.

Luckily, a diploma from Ilvermony was treated the same as if it’d come from any regular public or private establishment, so magical students could get jobs in the mundane world without having to take extra classes or get another GED from a mundane school.

To compare, in the magical world, people would have to go through a long, multi-year apprenticeship after getting NEWT-level education under a Master to get ones Journeymanship, which was the most common type of post-Hogwarts kind of education for those who didn’t immediately join the ministry upon graduation.

You wanted a job making brooms? You had to be a Journeyman in Charms. Opening a potion’s shop? Journeyman in Potions. So, a Bachelor’s in Runes from Ilvermony was the same as being considered a Journeyman in Runes anywhere else in Europe.

Masters’ degrees were sort of the same. They were the highest level of mastery amongst magical folk, since there were no PhDs or Doctorates in magic (yet). But unlike Masters diplomas from mundane universities, you could not get a magical Mastery until you had at least five years of real world job experience with your chosen topic.

As such, if Lou’s daughter wanted to go beyond and get a Mastery in Runes, she had to prove she’d spent five years working a job that required her particular expertise before being allowed to apply for the Master-level classes and examination.

“Hey, Lou, does your daughter need a job?” I inquired, an idea popping into my head.

“Eh?” Lou uttered, taken aback. “You don’t have to do that, sir!”

“It’s fine, I really need people who know their way around magic, and aren’t directly tied to the magical scene overseas,” I told him. “I need somebody who knows about Runes and won’t accidentally blow themselves up, and honestly, I have no idea where to start looking. Ilvermony graduates sound like the perfect place to start recruiting.”

“Well, Mr. Rose, sir, I’m flattered,” Lou stammered a bit. “Um, may I ask…?”

“How much she’d be paid, and what her job would be?” I guessed, and I saw his head bob. “Certainly.”

I steepled my fingers, imitating Mr. Burns. “Starting salary for somebody with a Bachelor's would be fifty thousand dollars a year, with plenty of options for raises and promotions, as well as full medical, dental, and life insurance. As for where she’d work, I’m currently in need of Journeymen Runesmiths in a number of different departments, so she’ll likely be moved around a bit until we finds one that fits. Heck, I’ll even sweeten the deal by helping her find a place to stay if she decides to work for me in England.”

“That’s… that’s very generous, Mr. Rose,” Lou said, swallowing a bit.

“Like I said, it’s for my own benefit as well,” I assured my chauffeur, waving off his words.

“Still, thank you for the offer,” he said, now sounding a bit more confident. “It’s a lot more than what the Flamels would have done.”

“Did you know them well?” I asked.

“Not as well as you might think,” Lou replied. “While my family has been working for them since 1718, after my ancestor John Jacobs was freed from slavery by Mrs. Flamel, I haven’t had much interaction with them.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised.

“I don’t know what they were like when you met ‘em, but in the thirty-odd years I’ve worked for the Flamels, I’ve met them maybe a total of fifty times,” he informed me. “And most of those were during their annual drive about, where they had me take them through New Orleans so they could see what had changed since they’d been gone. Never really saw them smile much during those times, either.”

“That’s… that sounds rather bleak,” I muttered.

“My grandpappy used to tell me about what they were like when he was younger. They were a bit more lively, but it was clear they weren’t really doing much aside from going through the motions. They never attended any parties, hardly hosted any, either. I believe they donated to a couple charities and groups, but I’m not sure they ever actually did much else. When they did visit the manor, it was to do something with one collection or another. They were basically ghosts,” Lou said with a shake of his head. “Suppose that’s what living for so long does to ya.”

“I suppose so,” I agreed slowly. “Still, when I met them, they seemed… well, not like you’ve described them.”

“Dunno about that, but I think you were a good influence on them at the end,” Lou claimed, to my surprise.

“Really?”

“Oh, yes, indeed, Mr. Rose,” he said with a nod. “Last time I met them, they were a lot more animated than I’d ever seen ‘em. All smiles and excited conversation. They saw something special in ya, kid. Inspired ‘em, too. Gave them some final good memories before they chose to let it all go.”

I leaned back in the seat at that. Had Harry and I really been such a breath of fresh air to the old couple? It was flattering if true.

‘I guess I did impress them enough to have them leave me their book of secrets,’ I thought, thinking about the journal that had been incredibly helpful to me.

This just reaffirmed my faith that I was doing the right thing by trying to bring magic back to the world.

“Let your daughter know about my offer. If she accepts or wants a job interview, pass it on to Carlotta, who’ll let me know,” I told Lou, who was now grinning happily.

I hoped she would accept. I needed a lot more talented workers to reduce my own workload!