Toppers Wallow

“It was a pleasant change to be able to lie in bed and not have to organise the troops. It was pleasanter to have a leisurely snog with your partner. It was most pleasant when he responded sexily and no one interrupted your love-making. H&D lazed in bed until they were sure the horde had gone into the woods. After the usual ablutions they wandered down for breakfast at their flower adorned table. Winky served them solicitously, heaping their plates high with delectable goodies. Fairly bloated, they sat for an hour in front of the fire.



“What’s the weather like Kreacher?” Draco caught him as he bustled by.



“Dry, a medium breeze and smelling of autumn. A good day for a long walk, Masters, but wrap up warm.”



“Let’s walk the perimeter of the wards, Draco. If we go along Magnet Lane we can have a peep at the Grumbleweeds’ house and garden; then go up Ghost Wood Hollow until we cross the stream. David says we may walk across his fields and most of the boundary trees can be seen. If we time it right and walk widdershins, we’ll be by Milkwood when the students are having lunch. What d’you think?”



“Fine, but we’ll need our boots; the fields are bound to be muddy.”



They went upstairs to put on their outdoor clothes. When they came down again Winky had a thermos full of coffee and a small box of biscuits ready; all contained in a small back-pack. They thanked her and Harry slung the pack over his shoulders and our pair exited through the front door.



Soon they were peeking through the hedge, looking at the grandeur that had been the garden of Willow Tree House.



“We’ll have to lend the Grumbleweeds a few garden-elves to get it into shape.”



“I think Knox and Kellie have already volunteered from what I overheard on Sunday last.”



After going over the plank bridge they turned left into the fields following the path bordering the stream. They peered into its depths trying to spot fish, but they darted around too much. However they did find a crayfish, Harry thought it was a miniature lobster.



“Same family, Love, but freshwater only,” was Draco’s terse remark.



Watercress was found, plus some of the false watercress. None was harvested, but the location remembered for another time. A little later they came across David.



“Hello, the Pair. Your little workers did wonders, thank you. Not only were the root crops dug up but they graded and bagged them too; not a single fork hole in any of them. I gave Billy a bit of a bonus for them, harvest in, in record time this year. Thanks a lot, they were great.”



After a few more pleasantries David walked off, on whatever agricultural errand he had in mind. A slight climb over the ridge had them in the fields of Dark Well Farm. Harry couldn’t remember the farmer’s name, not that they saw him. However, his wife waved from the kitchen window as they passed the farmhouse. Half an hour later they crossed the Stubbins path and its concomitant stream, catching a glimpse of a great crested newt in one of the pools of the stream next door. Stubbins Farm and Goldhawke Farm were passed with no one in sight. Halfway round the walk Oak Farm and then Pasture Farm were passed, situated close together at the head of Oak Lane.



At Pasture Farm the farmer’s wife was hanging out her washing.



“Hello Mages, walking the bounds are ’ee? Come and have a rest, I reckon you’ll need one by now. I’ve got a bit o’ apple brandy, that’ll warm ’ee up.”



The apple brandy had a definite kick; their already rosy windswept cheeks were a few shades redder when they bid the generous housewife goodbye. Now the pastures stream and footpath followed the same route down a shallow valley; being concomitant with the ward boundary. Half an hour had them going down the steep bank to the plank bridge where the pastures stream joined the River Gryff. On the harder path some of the mud had fallen off their boots, and the idea of climbing up the slope on the other side and walking through more of the chocolate sticky stuff no longer appealed. Instead of crossing the bridge, they went north towards Ribbon Mill Farm. The path was halfway up the steep river bank and the trees growing there gave some shelter from the chilly breeze. Round a corner Ribbon Mill Farm came into view



“I wonder if it was a mill?” mused Draco, aloud.



Harry just pointed. As they drew nearer the millwheel was very obvious and someone seemed to be working on it.



“Hello. Come to help me get this going again, have you?” The miller waved. “You see, I’m going to get the wheel working again and then see how much electricity I can get it to produce. Some villages in Switzerland have a river this size, and are able to generate their own electricity. It’ll be useful, especially when the weather’s bad, because the land lines frequently blow down. Time for a coffee break, care to join me?”



The miller was by himself and set about boiling a kettle. Draco offered a share in their flask as an alternative, which the miller accepted willingly. He also shared in the generous portion of ginger biscuits Winky had supplied. They sat in a partly restored, but cosy kitchen.



“I think the wheel will have to be under-shot as the old leat no longer works. When it did, the wheel was breast-shot and at least sixty percent more efficient,” the miller explained



“Where was the millpond?” asked Draco.



“Where the bottom stew-pond is at Milkwood Farm. The leat flowed down the Woodyates side of the path between the two farms, in a culvert under the road and then between the footpath and the raised road that enters the mill two storeys up. It stayed at road level and passed through the mill to come out three quarters of the way up the wheel.”



“So if you could re-water the leat you’d have over half as much power again?”



“Yes and for much less water used. The culvert under the road is still whole and probably needs flushing out. Also I’d need to re-waterproof the raised section of the leat, but it would be much more efficient. The previous owner of Woodyates wanted to charge me the earth for the rebuilding of his section of the leat. I think he wanted some of the money I won on the lottery. It wasn’t the top prize by any means, so after a world cruise I decided to use most of it by repairing the wheel and generating the electricity for the good of the parish. After all, it seemed only right, because I used numbers suggested by the villagers.”



“Have you talked to Billy about this?” asked Harry.



“Yes. He saw no real objections but needed the owner’s permission.”



“He never mentioned it.”



“We talked only last Monday.”



“Right, I’m the owner of Woodyates and Draco’s the owner of Milkwood. I’m happy for the project to go ahead,” confirmed Harry.



“And so am I,” added Draco. “We had better have a legal document drawn up giving you permission to build and maintain the leat and preventing us or any subsequent owner denying your water rights. Are you sure that those rights don’t already exist?”



“They might have lapsed when the mill ceased working about fifty years ago. Honestly I had never thought about the legalities before. I assumed the water was anyone’s to use as long as they didn’t pollute it.”



“Most mills had manorial rights which gave precedence to the miller, as long as he ground corn for the lord of the manor and his serfs. Many of these local laws have never been rescinded. I’ll get Francis to have a search for us. He’s my tame lawyer,” Draco explained. “I wonder who inherited the lord of the manor’s title.”



“At one time Woodyates used to be called Woodyates Manor and Milkwood was its dower house, or so some of the old maps show. I did a bit of research on the web looking at old maps etc.”



“If that’s true, then you might be lord of the manor, Harry.” Draco looked amused.



“Not another title, resident mage is enough. Plus the other ones our lot give me.” Harry looked slightly pained.



“Oh! You must be the Mr Potter, everyone talks about. Someone told me you acted as green man recently. It’s rather quaint keeping the old superstitions going. Do you do it just for fun?”



“Um … Oh …” Harry looked flummoxed.



“Many of the old customs have truths hidden inside them,” Draco took over smoothly. “We don’t want to loose them until we know what was represented therein. Something like the medical pharmaceutical companies going back to the rain forests, to find new drugs from old aboriginal recipes, you know.”



“Mmm, possibly. But outdated ceremonies and witches etc, surely not?”



“I can see you’re a sceptic, but I hope not a bigot. You must allow different people to follow the dictates of their own consciences, as long as they harm no one and promote good feeling.” Harry had recovered some of his aplomb.



“Oh yes! Live and let live, I agree with that. But a supernatural being who governs our lives, not me. I believe in what I can see and touch, that’s why I went on a world cruise, to see the countries I’d read about. I believe that we should do our best for other people too and expect them to return the compliment. I have no quarrel with the vicar he’s a really good man, but you won’t get me inside his church believing in his mumbo-jumbo.” The miller smile depreciatingly.



“John is opening our eyes at the moment, so we are rethinking our positions. We do agree about doing the best for those in our area and, however our belief patterns might differ, we can co-operate in getting electricity for the village and other practical projects. Billy acts as our agent here, so we’ll instruct him to give you what help he can. He works hand in hand with Gregory, Dean and Seamus so you might see them around too.”



“Greg, I’ve met, he’s the manager of Milkwood. Are Dean and Seamus those builder types I’ve seen knocking around?”



“Most likely, they are very practically minded and have been teaching some of our students some of their skills,” explained Draco.



“So you’re teachers then?”



“You might say so, though the definition needs broadening slightly and might just well offend your sceptical beliefs. One day we’ll try and convert you, but not now, the time isn’t yet ripe.” Harry looked mystical.



“Oh! Right! I shan’t press it either. My name’s Michael, by the way. Michael Miller, very appropriate wouldn’t you say?” he smiled warmly. “I know you each by your given names of Draco and Harry; I hope we can stay on friendly terms.”



“Of course we can, Michael.” Draco extended his hand and Michael shook it.



Harry followed suit and Michael returned to tinkering with the millwheel.



As they walked up the path they examined the raised leat and then the culvert under the Grumblewell Road. The Woodyates section seemed to have been filled in, or was badly choked from long disuse, but it could just be traced as it ran between the path and the Woodyates greenhouses. Wash and Grey were there digging carefully.



“Hello Harry, Draco. Are you feeling all right? We’d heard you’d done some flash bang magic and it nearly killed you. I must say you look fine to me.” Wash smiled at them.



“Hello Wash, Grey. We were a bit fagged out yesterday, we made two portals, one here and one at college and somehow managed to join them together about six inches apart. It surprised us, never mind all our magical friends. I know you’ve watched us flying and practicing Quidditch, perhaps you can chat up Ron to take you under his wing and see some of the teams practicing. Better still take a day off when there’s an inter-house match, I’m sure our headmistress would give you permission.” Harry hugged his two Muggle mates.



“You sure? She’s quite daunting.”



“Yes we agree,” said Draco, miming knee trembling awe. “But hidden under the witches robes is a person who believes in equity and fair play. Anyway, what are you digging?”



“It’s an idea we had. There seems to have been a water-channel here, coming from the bottom stew-pond. There’re definitely culverts under the paths. So we were wondering if we could use some of the upper ponds’ overflow to act as irrigation in the greenhouses, there seems to be a slight fall in the land that would give us a decent flow without flooding the place out.”



“That’s funny. We’ve just been talking to Michael Miller about much the same thing. He says there was a mill leat running down here to work the water wheel at Ribbon Mill. We were trying to trace it and thought we saw signs further down. It should be three to four feet wide and a foot to eighteen inches deep. Probably lined with waterproof clay, though that may have disintegrated by now. Your little ditch is roughly down its centre. Would you mind if we tried a little magical excavation?”



“Better than us breaking our backs, any time.”



Harry and Draco probed the ground in front of them seeing if they could find the old channel. There seemed to be something there making a flat ‘U’ shape. Harry held the ‘U’ shape steady and hardened it temporarily, whilst Draco scooped out the earth in between. They cleared about a twelve-foot length of the old channel revealing the old grey puddle-clay which lined it. In places, roots and burrowing animals had made holes in it but much of it was still sound. The two boys were quite surprised at the width of the leat, being almost five feet wide and at least two feet deep in the centre.



“We were going to use the run-off from the stew-ponds, but this channel would be far too big for what we need.”



“Why don’t you go and talk to Michael Miller, see if he has some ideas?” suggested Draco.



Harry, meanwhile, had been staring between the rows of greenhouses. “Are those Mrs Pierce’s hens?”



“Yes and no, Harry. We managed to buy a few more and a cockerel, so in spring, we hope to have chicks. The old lady comes to visit her hens, pushed in a wheelchair by one of the attendants. It’s a bit too far for her to walk. All she has to do is call them and they come running to her. We give her some corn to scatter for them, it pleases her no end. Most of the time the little flock are quite content to scratch around, they eat some of the pests too.”



They chatted a little longer and left the two Muggles scraping more puddle-clay and widening the channel to its full potential. Having been made aware of leats, the pair now showed a greater interest. They wandered round the stew-ponds, noting how Marianne had carefully made the feeds and drains, widening them as each drain flowed out, and narrowing the feeds to create equal flows to each pond. She was there and explained the process of rearing and how each pond had fish of different ages plus her regime for feeding them.



“About two weeks, and the fish in this pond will be ready for the table, Masters. Kreacher’s talked to the Hogwarts kitchen-elves and we have a contract to supply them. Not that they’ll have the whole cull. Some will find its way onto your table, and into Mr Richard’s customers’ bellies, too. It was good that Masters Dean and Seamus cleaned out the reservoir, the water’s not as polluted now, although we shut off the supply until the mud had settled. Master Billy said that the mud would be excellent fertiliser for the farmland.”



Marianne chattered on a little longer and then returned to her piscatorial duties.



Once they had reached the small dam holding the reservoir back they felt chilly; so opted to take the path over the head of the dam and through the centre of Milkwood, meeting the students as they came out to do battle for their treasures. H&D had their legs pulled by the DS Members, who said that they were shams, pretending to be under the weather whilst their rosy cheeks seemed to speak differently. Draco pretended to faint, and had the girls fussing over him for a minute or two. When he recovered miraculously they started calling him names dredged up from previous more serious scholastic encounters. However, their smiles told him of the genuine regard they had for him, therefore no feelings were hurt.



Arriving downstairs at the cottage, they discarded their muddy outer clothes, before climbing the stairs in their stocking-feet. Winky bustled up chiding them for being out for so long, and ensuring they drank their foul tasting potion immediately. She gave them a strong citrus drink to take away the taste and then sat them down at a low table in front of the living room fire.



Steaming mugs of spiced vegetable soup followed. Harry could feel Draco enjoying the warmth as the soup trickled down his oesophagus. Soup finished, double eggs Benedict followed.



“They’re from the hens at the farm, fresh from the nest this morning.” Winky informed them.



By the time their chocolate sponge and creamy custard had settled, both lovers were in a hazy dream of well-being, holding hands and dozing in front of the fire.



There was a gentle stream of people drifting in to see them, talking of mundane things or reporting on projects finished. Among them were Ginny and Daphne, who invited our pair over for dinner. Saying that they could be quieter there than in the middle of the boisterous students. H&D were in two minds whether to accept the invitation, wondering if the girls had ulterior motives. In the end they accepted as they felt daunted by the prospect of chattering hordes.



If the girls had ulterior motives, they were very adept at hiding them. They were not over solicitous as Winky had been [another reason for going to Bagshot Cottage] nor were they too distant either. The boys found themselves relaxing and chatting, something they seemed unable to do with their other peers except Ron and Hermione.



Daphne spoke of her love of horses and her hopes to set up a small riding school with some vet work as a supplement. Ginny’s ambitions were equally athletic, but riding a broom instead of a horse. She told of trials with various Quidditch teams all of which were in the New Year. She also worried slightly that they may interfere with her getting good results for her NEWT’s in June. The boys chatted about future plans for their cottage once the hordes were accommodated at Milkwood. This led inevitably into some banter about Harry becoming lord of the manor.



Draco excused the pair just before chocolate time, saying that they had a story to tell. The girls suggested some extra twists to the tale and bid them goodnight. The tale was told with illusions from Harry; then the boys retired to bed. Kissing and cuddling were their fortés that night and then they lay on their backs close together chatting.



§§§§§



“They sleep together,” Draco remarked, when the subject of their recent dinner came up. “When I went to the loo I peeped into their room.”



“Good for them!” replied Harry. “When we need to be proper, or they do, we can team up, just like we did for the Parish Dance. We have various official functions looming, taking one of the girls on our arms would deflect any flak from the less enlightened. You know how fuddy-duddy some of the older witches and wizards can be.”



“Mmm … Not thought of that … Good idea, Lover. I daresay we can be their alibi when they need to put up a smokescreen, as well.



Their conversation drifted from the verbal into thought swapping and at some indeterminate time metamorphosed into dreams.