Chapter 48
“What would have caused him to be out in the middle of winter, in nothing but his underwear?” Lily asked.
“I have no idea, mum.” Harry shook his head.
“I’ve given him some dreamless sleep.” Alice said. “He’ll be out for twelve hours. Come back in the morning and maybe you can get some answers.”
“Fingers crossed.” Harry nodded.
~~~
January 30th 2923
Harry apparated to the hospital, immediately after finishing his breakfast. The storm had blown itself out and the day was bright and clear, but still bitingly cold and Harry was ever so glad that he could apparate straight into the hospital.
“Good morning, Harry.” Alice looked like she hadn’t slept all night.
“Morning, Aunt Alice.” Harry replied. “How’s Ernie? When can he leave the hospital?”
“Good.” Alice nodded. “Should be waking any time, now. As soon as he wakes, you can whisk him away.”
“Great.” Harry smiled. “You look like you need a nap.”
“I do.” Alice grunted. “I was just waiting on you. Edris will take over for the day shift. Remus took Filbert home an hour ago and there’s no-one other than Ernie, here.”
“Then you head home.” Harry directed. “Uncle Frank and little Lawry will be waiting on you, I’m sure.”
“I’m not going to argue.” Alice smiled and gave him a quick hug, before she sighed and headed for the apparition point.
Harry shook his head in amusement, knowing that half of Alice’s exhaustion was put-on for show. He ducked his head into the office and smiled at Edris, ignoring the older dwarrowdam’s stern expression.
“Good morning, Edris.” He said. “Would you mind if I made a pot of tea?” He nodded to the little firebox, that hung on the wall opposite the door.
“Not at all, Master Harry.” The dwarrowdam had refused any offers to address him by his name, always attaching his title, but as she did the same with everyone, Harry just smiled and nodded.
Once he had his mug of steaming tea, he sat down beside Ernie’s bed, wondering how long it would take the Puff to wake.
“Uhh…” Came the groan from the bed. Harry waited and sipped at his tea, knowing that sooner or later, the Puff would open his eyes. “Ugh…” Ernie rolled slowly to his side, facing away from Harry.
Harry said nothing, just reached out and gave the other magical a jab with his wand. Ernie rolled back over, his eyes widening as he saw who was by his bed.
“Potter?” He gasped.
“Morning, Ernie.” Harry held out a second mug of tea. “Tea?”
“What?” Ernie blinked.
“Tea?” Harry offered, again. “The healers have checked out, given you some Skele-gro for your ankle and repaired the gravel-rash on your leg, so you’re free to leave. We’ll find you some clothes. Don’t suppose you have one of Hermione’s bags on you, do you?”
“What?” Ernie repeated.
“Dennis Creevey turned up here six months ago.” Harry said. “He told us about Hermione insisting that the Gryffindors all had extended bags with shrunken trunks. Did you get one, too?”
“I…” Ernie just blinked at Harry. “Potter?” He asked again.
“Yes, Ernie.” Harry sighed. “Harry Potter. Gryffindor, seeker, Boy-Who-Lived and all that rubbish.”
“But you’re dead.” Ernie objected. “The Wizengamot put you into the Veil.”
“Yes, they did.” Harry nodded. “But something decided that I’d be better off here, than dead, so here I am.”
“Here?” Ernie blinked. “Where is ‘here’?”
“Middle-earth.” Harry replied. “We’re about five miles from the Brandywine River and about thirty from Bree.”
“I know that name…” Ernie muttered. “Why do I know that name…?”
“Bree. Hobbit. Hobbiton. Lord of the Rings.”
“Oh, mum’s Uncle John…” Ernie nodded. “Right.”
“Excuse me?” Harry blinked.
“Professor Tolkien.” Ernie said. “He was mum’s Uncle, by marriage, a few times removed. Not a squib, but not magical enough to go to Hogwarts. We used to go to his son Christopher’s for a few days, each summer. He’d tell us the stories that his father wrote. Elves, goblins, orcs, dragons, hobbits and men. Mum said that they weren’t real, that they were just his way of coping with the Grindelwald war. She didn’t think much of them, but we enjoyed the stories.”
“Ah, right.” Harry grunted. “Well, good news? You already know about where we are, then.”
“Brandywine River?” Ernie muttered. “That’s… um… Buckland? I think…?”
“It is.” Harry nodded.
“And we can still do magic here?”
“Yep.” Harry nodded, again. “And bonus? No Ministry, no restrictions.”
“Nice.” Ernie nodded, then frowned. “You look…”
“Different?” Harry asked. “Yes, I do. So do you. Whatever brought us here, changed us from humans to dwarves.”
“Whatever brought us here?” Ernie repeated. “Who is ‘us’?”
“I went into the Veil.” Harry said. “But Professor Lupin died in the battle at Hogwarts, as did his wife Tonks, as well as Lavender, Fred and Colin. But they’re all here.” Ernie’s eyes went wide. “And not just them. My godfather, Sirius Black? He went into the Veil, too. Voldy killed my parents and Dorcas Meadowes. Luna’s mum died in a spell accident. Neville’s parents were alive and in the long-term care ward at St. Mungo's, last I heard. And Cedric died in the Tournament.”
“Cedric?” Ernie asked.
“Out of all the people I named, he’s the one you picked up on?” Harry shook his head.
“I…”
“Never mind.” Harry waved him off. “Yes, something brought us here. No, we don’t know who it was. Professor Lupin, remembers someone crying, so does Sirius. That person told Colin that he’d be needed. But they just laughed at me.”
Ernie bit his lip at the disgruntled expression on Harry’s face. “Right.” He nodded.
“Oh, shut up, Macmillan.” Harry huffed, causing Ernie to smother a laugh. “So, what happened to you? What had you out in the middle of winter, in… naught but your drawers… as Professor McGonagall would say.”
“Oh, Merlin…” Ernie ducked his head. “My stupid brother, Bentley. He set whole bloody house on fire.”
“He what?” Harry gasped.
“He and my father got drunk.” Ernie sighed. “Bentley’s wife gave birth to a son, yesterday.”
“Ah. Hence, the getting drunk.” It wasn’t a question.
“Celebrating.” Ernie gave a resigned nod. “Too many drinks, led to dad falling asleep, which led to the fire going out, which led to Bentley stacking up wet wood in the fireplace and casting an incendio. When that didn’t take, he added a bottle of Fire-whiskey and cast again.”
Harry’s eyes went wide. “A whole bottle?” He’d watched Fred, Remus and Tonks experimenting with Fire-whiskey and knew how big a blast it could make.
“A… whole… two… pint… bottle…” Ernie nodded with each word, to emphasise the amount. “According to the Patronus he sent me, warning me to get out.”
“Oh, wow…” Harry blinked. “Yeah, that’d set the house on fire.”
“And because of the explosion it caused, the anti-apparition wards went up…” Ernie went on.
“Oh, joy…” Harry said in a flat voice.
“I got stuck on the third floor.” Ernie whispered. “I grabbed my wand and the little keyring purse-cum-pocket thing, that Granger insisted that we all have and headed for the emergency floo on that floor. Managed to get there, just as the fire cut it off from the rest the floor. I shoved my wand into the key purse, because I didn’t want to break it going through the floo and ours is notoriously bad for just dumping you out at the other end. Dad’s broken three wands because of it.”
“Your dad’s had to use an emergency floo three times?” Harry blinked.
“Oh, no.” Ernie shook his head. “At least a dozen times, since our fourth year. He’s on the Wizengamot and he’s neutral. The DeathEaters were after him from the get-go. Why do you think I joined the DA? I needed to know all the spells I could, to protect myself from people like Malfoy and Rosier.”
“Huh.” Harry grunted in understanding.
“Yeah.” Ernie grunted back. “So my wand went into the key purse and I went into the floo. Only… I didn’t come out at Aunt Pippa’s in Sussex, did I?” He asked the world at large, seemingly resigned to the floo not being able to sent him where it should have.
“You came out in the mountains, on Arda.” Harry answered for him.
“I came out in the mountains.” Ernie nodded.
“I think…” Harry started. “And this is only a personal opinion, mind. I think… that whoever... or whatever... brought us here, does so, when we’re either dead, or almost dead. Like that halfway place, between awake and asleep? Instead of us going where everyone else that died, goes, we’re sent here.”
“And we can’t go back?”
“How?” Harry asked. “We’ve no idea how we got here. How are we supposed to get back? And if we’re really dead there…? What would we be going back to? How would the Ministry react to me... just popping up... after they’d shoved me into the Veil?”
Ernie’s brows rose. “The Unspeakables would have you in the DoM, faster than you could say Hogwarts.”
“Exactly.” Harry nodded. “Besides… No-one’s trying to kill me here, not yet, anyway… Except Lavender and Colin in the sparring yard, but you kinda gotta expect that.”
“Sparring yard?”
“We’re dwarves, Ernie.” Harry said. “Not human anymore. And if you know the Tolkien stories, you know what’s coming. We’re going to Erebor with Thorin. Not sure yet, who’s going as part of the Company and who’s going in a caravan, but we’ve still got eighteen-odd years to decide that. But all of us want to see them live and none of us want Frodo to have to go to Mordor, so we plan to deal with the Ring, shortly after Erebor.”
“Huh.” Ernie grunted.
“Yeah.” Harry agreed. “But that means we have to be involved enough that Thorin invites at least one, or more, of us to join the Company, which means that he has to know us, reasonably well. And if we want Bilbo to trust us, enough to let one of us take him to Mount Doom to destroy the Ring, we had to have some pre-existing connection with him. So, we came to the Shire. We built this village. There’s both hobbits and dwarves living here. Thorin’s been in and will probably be back through, come summer.”
“But going to Erebor means fighting.” Ernie said, with a frown.
“It does.” Harry agreed. “And not just with magic. All of us are able to use muggle weapons. Swords, staffs, knives, daggers, hand-to-hand. We have to be able to physically fight, because we don’t know if any of Mordor’s beasties are magic resistant.”
“Oh, lovely.” Ernie huffed. “Didn’t think about that.”
“Plus, while most of the residents of the Pond know about magic, we try not use it in front of outsiders. Don’t want to have to deal with panicked muggles.”
“Merlin, no!” Ernie nodded, fervently. “Okay, I can do that. I’m not the heir but father made sure that I could use a sword, anyway. Sword-canes as walking sticks, are common. And I’m not bad with knives. Not great, but not bad.”
“Brilliant.” Harry grinned. “What about a job?”
“A… job…?” Ernie looked at Harry like he was mad.
“Ernie, you need an income.” Harry explained. “There’s no Gringotts here, you can’t just duck into the family vault to top up your coin purse. You need to have an income and that means a job.”
“Oh, God…” Ernie looked shell-shocked, he’d only ever intended to ‘work’ as a hobby.
“But while you think about that, let’s get you home and find you some clothes.” Harry said. “We’ll provide clothes and a start-up purse. What you do with it is up to you, but once it’s gone? It’s gone.”
“A start-up purse?” Ernie asked, brightening up.
“Yeah, roughly equivalent to about… Um…?” Harry paused while he tried to work it out. “A ʛalleon is £5, approximately. And you can buy pretty much the same for a pound that you can for a florin, so…? We’re calling them the same value, roughly speaking.” He grimaced.
“Give me a breakdown of money here, Potter.” Ernie ordered.
“Pennies, ten-pences, florins, sovereigns, crowns and sceptres.” Harry replied. “Ten pennies equals one ten-pence. Two ten-pences equals one florin. Twenty florins equals one sovereign. Ten sovereigns equals one crown. A sceptre is worth twenty-five crowns and will hold twenty-five crowns.” As Harry spoke, he held out a hand with a sample of each item, resting on his palm. “You’ll be given þ100, ‡100, ƒ500, Š500, Ç500, §10, or just over eight hundred crown.”
Ernie’s eyes narrowed as he thought that through and worked out how much that should be in ʛalleons. He blinked before his eyes widened comically.
“That’s… that’s over ʛ32,000, Potter!” He gasped.
“Really?” Harry asked, frowning. “Are you sure?”
“If a single crown is worth two-hundred florins and there’s eight hundred crowns, that’s one-hundred-sixty-thousand florins.” Ernie said flatly. “Divide that by five for ʛalleons and you get thirty-two-thousand. Roughly.”
“Oh.” Harry grunted. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Ernie blinked again. “Okay, he says. We’ll give you a start-up purse of over thirty thousand ʛalleons, he says.” He shook his head. “Only you, Potter, only you…”
~~~
February 2nd 2923
“Okay, Ernie?” Harry and the other magicals were all gathered in the living room of Fred’s cottage, having their once-a-quarter magicals-only meeting. “Any ideas on an income?”
“Yes, actually.” Ernie nodded. “Not quite the usual Macmillan tradition, but I’m going to go with making pocket watches and small clocks. I spoke to Colin and he's happy to hand over the watch making to me.”
“Is that what your family did?” Gina asked.
“No, the Macmillans made clocks, specifically magical clocks.” Ernie answered. “But our training starts with non-magical clocks.”
“But you would only have had a year or two of training…” Lily objected.
“One.” Ernie replied. “But due to father’s medical condition, he decided to give me a pensieve and memories, instead of giving me five years’ worth of lessons.”
“Medical condition?” Alice asked.
“One of the curses that he was hit with,” Ernie said, “is eating away at his memories. Some days he doesn’t recognise me, Bentley or mother. St. Mungo's can’t do anything. And Gringotts said that it was a miscast, so breaking it was going to be nearly impossible.”
“Ouch.” Fred grimaced. “Nasty, sorry, mate.”
“It is.” Ernie sighed. “Father can’t remember much more than half of his training, so he had to combine his, Bentley's, Uncle Phillip's and grandfather’s memories, just to get enough to qualify as sufficient for an apprenticeship.”
“Don’t suppose you have them in that purse of yours?” Harry asked, hopefully.
“I do.” Ernie grinned. “Along with my wands and my entire library, thanks to Granger’s paranoia.”
“Oh, nice…” Harry nodded. “Thanks be to Hermione.”
~~~
April 1st 2923
Harry and Fred were standing outside their respective workshops, chatting about ponies, when the magpie Patronus appeared in front of them.
“I’m sorry… I can’t… I can’t do this anymore…” Fred's voice whispered, which seemed to be a problem, as Fred was standing beside Harry and clearly hadn't cast the spell. Meaning, that it had to have been George, as he was the only person who's voice sounded enough like Fred's, to be mistaken for him.
Fred seemed stunned, but Harry reacted, instantly, by casting a reply Patronus and yelling.
“Fredrick Gideon Weasley, what in hell do you think you are doing?!” Harry needed to shock George and buy himself enough time to find George and apparate he and Fred there, before the redhead did something irreversible.
The Patronus darted away and Harry dropped to the ground. “Visio terra, one thousand miles. Ostende George Weasley.” Harry waited impatiently for magic to transform the ground into an image and show where the other Weasley twin was. “Dunland. Great.” He stood up. “Expecto patronum.” The stag looked at him. “Messages to Isengar and Alice.” The stag nodded. “New magical contact is contemplating suicide, going to fetch.” The stag nodded and disappeared through the wall. “Come on, Fred, let’s go get George.” He grabbed the unresisting redhead’s arm and apparated away.
They landed on a road, a little village visible on the river, some five or more miles away.
“Red Bank.” Harry grunted and held his wand to his throat. “Sonorus.” He waited for the feel of his magic washing over him, before he spoke. “George Weasley, get your miserable ass out here.” There was rustle from the scrubby bush but nothing more. “Come on, George, don’t make me send Prongs after you.” There was no sign of the missing Weasley. “Right. Expecto patronum.” The stag erupted from Harry’s wand. “Fetch up George, would you? He’s being a scaredy-cat.” The stag huffed and leapt into the scrub. There was a startled squawk and a redhead stumbled onto the road, followed by the stag. “Thanks, Prongs.” He turned to George. “Get over here, George, I’m not holding Fred up any longer. If he hits the ground, it’s your fault.” George looked up at Harry, from his place on the ground, on his hands and knees.
“… Harry…” The younger twin whispered, eyes wide in shock.
“Forge…” Fred whined, almost silently.
George’s eyes widened to almost comical size. “Gred…???”
“Yes, yes.” Harry huffed. “Gred and Forge. That’s who you are. Very good, boys.” He made sure to sound as much like Percy as he could. Dismissive and condescending.
George’s head snapped around from looking at Fred, to face Harry, while Fred went from facing George, to glaring at Harry.
“Watch it, Potter.” The twins spoke as one.
“And why would I do that?” Harry sneered, quietly pleased with their response.
The pair glared at him, before exchanging a lightning-fast look, but even as they leapt at him, intending to knock him off of his feet, Harry laughed and apparated back to his workshop.
He waited for the sound of a following apparition crack, but it took a good fifteen minutes before the Gryffindor beaters made their presence known. It wasn’t with the crack of apparition, but with a familiar magpie Patronus.
“Hey, Harry. George and I are going to take the rest of the day to talk. If you need us, we’ll be at the cottage.”
“Expecto patronum.” Harry waited for the stag to appear. “Message for Fred and George.” The stag nodded and opened its mouth. “Hey, guys. No problems. Fred? You get to explain everything to George, not me. George, don’t let him dip out. Come up to the house for supper. Okay?” The stag closed its mouth and ran into the nearest wall. Harry decided that he should let the other magicals know that the pair were re-united. He left his workshop and turn right, away from the centre of the village, entering the cooper’s yard.
“Hey, Fabian?” He called. “Guess what? You’re not the only twins, anymore. George turned up.”
Fabian looked over at Harry and sighed, dramatically. “Knew it was too good to be true…”
“Evening, George.” Harry grinned at his adoptive brother. “Let’s get this over with…”
“Get what over with, Harry?” George asked.
“The lecture that your mother and Hermione would have given you, if they’d found out what you planned to do, or were here to find you, after you did it.”
“Oh, shite…” George went pale, he remembered what Hermione’s temper was like and he’d been on the receiving end of his mother’s enough times to want to avoid that. “Do we have to…?” He whined.
“Fair’s fair, George.” Harry huffed. “Fred got his, now it’s your turn.” Both dwarves were ignoring the slightly confused expressions of the other magical dwarves.
George sighed. “Just verbal, right? No hexing?”
“No hexing.” Harry agreed. “I can’t do them justice with hexes, so I won't even try. Ready?” He took a breath when George winced, but nodded. “GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY! What in Godric’s name were you…”
~~~
April 10th 2923
“I must say,” Thorin mused quietly to Harry, “I never expected to witness the Trials of hobbits. But yours have done exceedingly well.”
“They have, haven’t they?” Harry grinned. “And George’s done okay, too.”
“Six utrab beads and three tarbûn beads.” Thorin nodded. “Better than I thought.”
“Better than he thought, too.” Harry nodded. “How’d the hobbits actually do?”
“Sigisimond has earnt three tarbûn beads,” Thorin answered, “knife and axe throwing as well as staff-fighting. Lady Violet has earnt tarbûn beads for knife throwing and staff-fighting. Saradas has earnt a utrab for hand-to-hand fighting and axe throwing, and tarbûn for knife throwing. Rorimac has earnt tarbûn beads for hand-to-hand, knife-fighting and staff-fighting. Micah and Lady Dinah have both achieved utrab for hand-to-hand and tarbûn for staff-fighting.”
“Whoa…” Harry blinked. “That’s a lot better than I thought.”
“Indeed.” Thorin nodded. “Halphi has suggested… so as to make it a little easier for him, that when it comes to their beads, that he be permitted to treat the hobbits exactly as he would our dwarves and after taking counsel with Balin and a few others of note, we have given our consent.”
“Oh, lovely.” Harry grinned. “Violet will be pleased.”
“I’m sure.” Thorin gave a small smile. “She’s been rather vocal on the subject.”
“You have no idea…” Harry smiled but shook his head. “Also…? There’s been a petition from Mr Bilbo Baggins, he has sent a request for permission to train with us. Hand-to-hand, sword, staff, knives and field-healer’s aid. I said that I would approach you for approval, before agreeing or rejecting his request.”
“That would be your decision, Harry.” Thorin objected. “Not mine. I would however, suggest a trial-period. I do not know the hobbit in question, to gauge his determination. If you believe that, with training, he can acquire the skills needed to earn a bead, and there is someone within your settlement that will train him? By all means, train him.”
“Excellent.” Harry grinned. “I’ll let him know, this evening.” He made a quick note on a little notepad that sat beside him. “And where are you off to, this summer?”
“This summer, we go to my cousin Dáin.” Thorin said. “We plan to journey there, this summer, spend the winter and return, next summer. That is, if my sister-sons ever get their rear-ends moving and get here.”
“Ah.” Harry grunted. “Lazy, are they?”
“No, not really, just young.” Thorin said, with a smile. “Young and fairly unaccustomed to travel, as yet. This will be their first significant journey.”
“Ah.” Harry nodded. “What have you got as far as ponies are concerned? Are you driving or riding?”
“Riding, this time.” Thorin replied. “I was going to ask your advice on the purchase of riding ponies. The wagon ponies that you advised Dwalin to purchase have been excellent ponies, but most unsuited to riding. Rather uncomfortable, they are.”
“Yes, they would be.” Harry mused. “How many of you are going? And will you be taking a pack pony?”
“I would prefer two pack ponies.” Thorin said. “There will be myself and my two sister-sons, Fíli and Kíli, along with Balin, Dwalin, Oín, Gloín and Gloín’s son, Gimli. At this point… My sister Dís was contemplating joining us and I won’t know for certain, that she hasn’t, until the lads arrive.”
“Right.” Harry nodded. “Eight, possibly nine, riding ponies and two pack ponies…” He hummed. “The pack ponies can be Draught Cobs, or Mid Cobs. Let’s go have a word with Frank, he’s running the ponies, he can give us an idea of what’s available.”
“I had not expected you to provide them, Harry.” Thorin rebuked the younger dwarf, gently.
“No, I didn’t think you did.” Harry said. “And I shan’t be. But Frank’s given out a standing order, whenever anyone goes somewhere, check for ponies, suitable for dwarves or hobbits. I think he has something in the region of a hundred or more of them, by now. Anyone travelling through can buy one, if they need one, or one takes their fancy.”
“Ah…” Thorin grunted. “And where are they being kept? I’ve not seen any great numbers of ponies.”
“Across the big Road.” Harry jerked his head towards the East-West Road and led the other dwarf in that direction. “We keep our own ponies, here, but the ones we buy on Frank’s behalf, intending to breed or sell, all go over the Road. Frank’s family specialised in horses, so it was not difficult for him to turn his attention from horses to ponies. But it’s his business, not ours. We might have bought the land for him and erected the barns, but seeing to the care and feed of his ponies, that’s his responsibility. He's bought all the studs from us, all bar Golly, of course.”
“Of course.” Thorin had seen the connection between Golly and Harry.
In the few minutes, that it took for them to traverse the village and cross the Road, Harry explained how Frank had basically created his version of a horse fair, with himself as primary trader. He kept records of every pony that came through his care, who bred their mares and to which stallion, whether the breeding took and what sex the foal was. He also bought ponies from travellers that either couldn’t care for their ponies, abused them, no longer wanted them or wanted to trade them. He saw to having ponies trained to go in harness, under saddle and in shafts. Apparently, just because a pony was accustomed to harness, didn’t mean they were accustomed to shafts. Most wagons that were pulled by two ponies, used a centre-pull bar or traces and a single-pony cart could use traces as easily as shafts.
“Afternoon, gents.” Frank greeted them as they reached the first shed. “What can I do for you?”
“Thorin’s heading for the Iron Hills, Frank.” Harry answered for them both, when Thorin just nodded at him. “He’s going to need riding ponies, for eight, possibly nine dwarves. The nineth is only a possible at this time, he won’t know if his sister, the Lady Dís, will be joining him, until his sister-sons arrive. Oh, and two pack ponies.”
“Well, now…” Frank nodded. “Let’s go into the office and check the books. I’ve a few good pack ponies, so it will depend on which you prefer. And riding ponies would be best matched to their riders. Do you know who’s going?”
It took an hour and a half for Thorin, Harry and Frank to narrow down the list of ponies. The pack ponies were walloping great Mid Cobs, closer to the shape of the Heavy Cobs but without all the bulk. A tall chestnut mare and a considerably heavier bay gelding.
The riding ponies were a real mixed bag, as Harry said.
A regal looking dark bay, Standard Cob, mare for Thorin. A pair of slightly lighter, but still Standard Cobs, for Thorin’s nephews, the dappled grey mare for Fíli and a paler grey gelding for Kíli. A fairly heavy Standard Cob, dun gelding for Dwalin. A heavier dark-dappled grey mare for Balin. A near identically shaped, pale dun mare for Gloín. A rather average Standard Cob, bay gelding for Oín. A dark liver chestnut mare, the same shape as Gloín and Oín’s, for Gimli. And a dark but not quite liver chestnut mare, on the border between a Light Cob and a Standard Cob, for the Lady Dís.
Plus, all the equipment needed, saddles, bridles, pack saddles and headstalls. And in the case of the mares, their breeding papers.
“We’ll hold them here, until you’re ready to leave, Thorin.” Frank said. “I’ll get Cedric to check their shoes, too. But it’d be good to have a couple of days warning. Enough time to give them some boosters and a check over. And you can leave your wagon ponies here, if you like. I’ll house and feed them for the winter, if I can use them to train up some younger wagon ponies.”
“That would be much appreciated, Master Frank.” Thorin nodded to Frank.
~~~
May 6th 2923
“Alright, George.” Harry stomped into Fred’s workshop. “Come with me.” He turned around and walked right back out, again. Fred and George exchanged blinks.
“Better follow him.” Fred went back to his carving.
“Right.” George darted out of the workshop and after a quick glance around saw Harry striding up Little Pond Lane towards the centre of the village. “Coming, Harry.” He called and trotted to catch up to the former seeker. “What’s up?”
“What are you doing?” Harry asked.
“Sorry…?” George asked.
“What… are… you… doing…?” Harry repeated the four words, slower this time.
“About what?” George asked.
“Fred’s a wood carver.” Harry said. “I’m a locksmith. What are you going to do?”
“Oh…” George blinked and stopped in the middle of the Lane, only to have Harry reach out and grab his sleeve, dragging him back into motion. “I… I’m not sure…”
“We’ve given you a start-up purse.” Harry said. “That’s all you get, not a penny more. Yes, we’ve seen that you have clothes, weapons and a place to live. But money? No, that purse is it. Now, it’s up to you to create enough of a business to provide you with an income. Think about it. You are not going to sponge off of Fred for the rest of your life. No way.” There was no give in Harry’s voice and George automatically tensed when he heard it directed at him.
“Yes, Harry.” George nodded, fervently and started to think for the first time, instead of just revelling in the presence of his brother. “What are my limits? What can’t I do?”
“We’d prefer you not overlap with someone else.” Harry said. “So, please try to avoid that.”
“Uh, okay, that’s fair.” George nodded. “What’s off the list?”
“Locksmith. Blacksmith. Wood Carver.” Harry ticked off occupations on his fingers. “Potter. Apothecary. Horse breeder. Sheep herder. Dairy herder. Goat herder. Farrier. Blacksmith. Spinner. Weaver. Cooper. Leatherworker. Butcher. Baker. Jeweller. Watch maker. Crop farmer. Restauranteur. Tea house. Dress maker. Bee keeper. Candle maker. Miller. Furniture maker. Lumper yard. Tree feller. Wagoneer. Postal Courier. Wood hauler. Brewer. Paper maker. Book binder. Seed starter. Button maker. Grass weaver. Rabbit handler. General store. Tinsmith. Pastry shop.”
“Does it have to be mobile?” George asked.
“Not as long as you’re prepared to sell to a hobbit and start again, if you decide to move Erebor with us.” Harry replied.
“Then, I’d like some land.” George said. “One thing this place doesn’t have, is orchards. I know how to look after apples and pears. And I’m sure that Hermione would have put in some muggle plant care books. I can learn to tend plums, cherries, peaches, apricots and nectarines. Maybe some sloes and other plants normally found in hedge-rows…” He hummed as he thought.
“And how much land do you need?” Harry asked.
“Huh…” George narrowed his eyes while he thought. “The fields between Fred’s and my place, and the river. And the fields between your parents’ place, Fallon’s place and the river?”
“No, they’re reserved for residential.” Harry shook his head. “What about behind the hobbits’ smials? From Pond Creek, across Field Drive and over to the east, at least as far as Bramble Creek and the crop fields? It’s about four times the size of the residential plots on the west side of town, but if you start on one side and work your way across, there’ll be plenty of room to expand.”
“And with potions and magic, I can have seedlings establish themselves and be ready to fruit, in a year or two, instead of four or five.” George nodded.
“And what you don’t sell to Tonks, can go to the Store.” Harry agreed. “Or you can get a stall at the market.”
“Or one of the shop-sheds.” George nodded.
“Excellent.” Harry grinned. “Go see Adelaide Grant, she’s the seed starter, she might have a couple of trees for root-stock, but you’re going to have to go to Tharbad and some of the other Dunland towns to get scionwood for anything other than a basic red apple.”
~~~