High moors in the north of England are home to predatory birds, such as the Merlin, a small falcon. A female Merlin was hovering over a hillside of grass and bracken. A large black dog was racing along the hillside, chasing anything it could scare out of its hiding place. The bird was waiting for a victim she could swoop on, but this hound ruined the chase.
The bird floated on the wind, which carried her up the hillside to the heather. Then her time was up, and she had to return. She dived away to the edge of the woods below. The woods gave her the cover she needed to transform back to her human shape.
“Stupid dog!”
Alicia Belby smoothed her hair, adjusted her ponytail, and walked to her uncle’s cottage. Her uncle, Gregory Payne, was a ranger working in the North York Moors National Park. He was a squib, and Alicia was a witch. She was a potioneer. The cottage was a refuge from her shared accommodation in London. Her work in the St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was at the same time exciting and tedious. Alicia worked with a small team of potioneers developing new potions to help the victims of the many sicknesses and injuries that could afflict magical people.
Her uncle Gregory had a secret. He was also a potioneer. It was not widely known that many squibs had enough magic to make potions. Uncle Greg didn’t have enough magic to make a wand light up with a ‘Lumos’ spell, but he had enough to brew any potion.
“Did you enjoy your flight today, Alicia?”
“Yes, uncle, it was fun. You know, I think that I still have permission to enter Blackmoor Park. I was following a flight of birds I wanted to hunt and crossed the old boundary line without a problem. The wards didn’t keep me out.”
The ranger thought for a moment. “If the gamekeeper sees your name in the ward log, he will send you a warning. He could also cross your name out of the ward book.”
“But why is my name still in the ward book? I know grandfather had my name put in the book when I was a kid so that I could go and visit him, but that was ages ago.”
“Yes, that is curious. Your grandfather died ten years ago. I never did find out who replaced him if he was replaced. The Black family employed caretakers at the lodge, but I never heard from them about a replacement. They were always secretive, and after Sirius was sent to Azkaban, they really closed up.”
Alicia and her uncle prepared their evening meal.
“You know, someone must be living at the Blackmoor Park lodge now.”
Greg looked up. “Why do you think that?”
“The birds that I wanted to stoop on were frightened away by a black dog. No dog could get into Blackmoor Park on its own. It must have been brought in by someone.”
The kitchen door opened with a bang, and a bunch of shopping bags appeared, followed by a woman.
“I’M HOME!”
Greg spun around and caught a floating bag, “We noticed! How are you, darling?”
Greg collected the other bags and started stacking the contents in the pantry. The woman put her wand away, went to Greg and hugged him.
“Man of mine, I’m glad to see you!”
Greg turned and kissed the newcomer on her lips.
“Mmmmm! That’s better. What’s for dinner?”
Alicia pointed to the dishes on the kitchen bench, “Hello, Aunt June. We are having grilled trout with steamed vegetables.”
“Darling Alicia! That sounds wonderful! Don’t let me interrupt you. I must clean up and change.”
Aunt June danced out of the kitchen but continued to shout from the bathroom.
“I DELIVERED THE SHIPMENTS TO THE PARKINSONS. THEY NEARLY REFUSED TO PAY, BUT I THREATENED THAT OFFICE GIT AGAIN AND GOT THE GALLEONS TRANSFERRED. I DON’T WANT TO DEAL WITH THE PARKINSONS AGAIN. I WENT TO THE TRIMBLES, AND THEY PLACED AN ORDER FOR A THOUSAND PHIALS OF NUMBER 5623. IF THEY ORDER LIKE THAT AGAIN, WE CAN FORGET ABOUT THE PARKINSONS.”
Uncle Greg and Aunt June ran a business from their little house in the North York Moors. A magically concealed workshop in the backyard contained a potions laboratory. Most wizarding industries were like this. Cottages and tiny houses dotted over the countryside were the homes and workplaces of thousands of witches and wizards who brewed potions, made parts for flying broomsticks and bred some of the magical creatures they were allowed to raise and sell.
June Payne was a member of the famous Belby family. Actually, there was one famous Belby, her second cousin Damocles Belby. Damocles was famous for inventing the Wolfsbane Potion, for which he was awarded the Order of Merlin. June attended Hogwarts and graduated with outstanding results in the Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, and Potions.
-ooOOoo-
June started working for her cousin when she graduated from Hogwarts many years ago. Her first job was collecting ingredients for potions. This took her to the high moors of Yorkshire, where rare magical creatures and plants lived. June hated killing and dismembering creatures, so she started to investigate how to collect the magical ingredients without killing the creature. One ingredient which was constantly in demand was newt’s eyes.
She found that the magical substance in the newt’s eye was the tears. If she could collect the tears, the newt could go on living which had the advantage that the tears could be harvested again. June wasn’t an expert at spell creation, but existing spells could be copied and changed to do the job. She set to work and soon had a spell she could cast secretly at a pond in the wild, and a steady stream of tiny drops would come to her to be collected in a phial. The newts went on living in the wild, and she didn’t have to mess up her potions laboratory extracting tears from all those dead newts.
Other ingredients were sourced from toads, frogs and hundreds of varieties of worms. The collection business flourished until, one day, she was caught.
June was walking along a valley path, taking phials of toad skin secretions, when she was confronted by a national park ranger.
“Good morning, miss! May I ask you what you are doing here?”
June tried to act innocent, “Walking! I often take this path. Is there any law against that?”
“No, but there is a law which you should be more concerned about.”
“What’s that?”
“The International Statute of Secrecy.”
“Oh!” June slowly looked behind her and then turned back to the ranger.
“What did you see?”
“Don’t get any ideas about obliviating me. I might be a squib, but I also have this.”
The ranger held up his right hand and showed June his Gringotts ring. This ring gave the owner strong protection from mind magic.
“How did you get one of those?”
Greg laughed. “I have business contacts with potion suppliers. I’m a potioneer and have an active vault at Gringotts. But, what I really wanted to ask you was if you would have lunch with me today?”
“Oh! What?”
“Lunch! You know! A light meal at the café in the village, near midday.”
“Oh! OK!”
-ooOOoo-
One thing led to another. A wedding happened. Three children were born, raised, and put through Hogwarts, and June and Greg still brewed and sold potions from their cottage in the North York Moors.
Greg thought about Alicia’s observations.
“I should go over to Blackmoor Park and see if there is a gamekeeper there now. They will not be happy about dogs running loose. Dogs are a big problem for us in the national park.”
Alicia nodded, “Do you want me to shadow you? Blackmoor Park has been closed up for a long time. We don’t know what the situation is there.”
“Yes! Thank you, Alicia. I would like someone to watch my back. The Black family were never friendly. Your grandfather was the only person I ever saw there.”
Greg cleared his visit to Blackmoor Park with his supervisor the next day. Then he drove his work vehicle to the only public entrance to the Park. It was a gravel path which led to the gamekeeper’s cottage and office.
Greg left his four-wheel drive and started along the path. He passed the muggle-repelling and notice-me-not wards and looked around. He looked up and saw the grey Merlin hovering high behind him. The office was rarely attended. The wards would have alerted the gamekeeper to anyone coming this close to the cottage.
The office and cottage came into sight. Greg slowed his pace as he approached. No one came to investigate the visitor.
“HELLO IN THE HOUSE! ANYBODY HOME!” Greg tried to get some response.
“Aye! I’m coming!” A large man wearing green work clothes, boots, and a beaten, broad-brimmed hat walked out from a side trail to the right of the house.
Greg smiled. The man did not return his smile.
“My name is Greg Payne. I’m a ranger from the North York Moors National Park.”
“Aye” was the unsmiling response.
“Are you the Blackmoor Park gamekeeper?”
“Aye”
Greg tried a new line of conversation.
“You would have noticed that I got past the muggle-repelling ward and the notice-me-not ward.”
“Aye”
“I would like to know if my name is in the ward book. It was in the book years ago when my uncle was the gamekeeper here.”
The green-clad man nodded. “Well, obviously, your name is in the ward book. When I started here, I was told not to make any changes in the ward book until I’m told to by the manager.”
A two-sentence reply; Greg was encouraged and moved on to his reason for visiting.
“I came here to ask about a dog seen running loose in the Park. Do you know anything about it? I’m asking because the National Parks are cracking down on uncontrolled dogs. Blackmoor Park has a ten-kilometre boundary with the National Park.”
The gamekeeper frowned, “Did you see this dog?”
“No, I didn’t see it myself. A reliable person saw it and reported it to me.”
“Would that reliable person be Alicia Belby?”
“Yes, it was.” It was Greg’s turn to be careful.
“Right, could you wait here while I call the manager?”
Greg nodded, and the gamekeeper walked to the office.
A few minutes later, he returned.
“The manager would like to meet you and Alicia Belby. He will explain the dog to you. You can floo-call the manager at this address to arrange a meeting.”
The gamekeeper gave Greg a note with a floo address on it and continued.
“Ah! About the dog, he can’t get past the wards. But, if you see him outside Blackmoor, can you call the house and tell them where you saw him, and they will pick him up. He’s almost harmless but is always trying to get away.”
-ooOOoo-
Officially, the main house at Blackmoor Park is a hunting lodge. The house has two levels and cellars and can accommodate thirty to forty guests. It is larger than most buildings classified as manor houses.
Greg and Alicia arrived at the main entrance. It was the first time either of them had even seen the house. The door opened as they approached, and a uniformed house elf welcomed them into the front hall.
“Mister Marsden is waiting for you. Please follow me.”
A short walk took them to a small office at the rear of the house. An older man welcomed them.
“Miss Belby, Mr Payne, I’m Maurice Marsden. I’m managing Blackmoor Park on behalf of the Earl of Blackmoor. I have heard from John Frith that you have seen our dog on the grounds of Blackmoor Park. May I hear how that happened?”
Greg asked his own question first.
“The Earl of Blackmoor! Do you mean Sirius Black? He is in Azkaban. How can you be working for him?”
The manager smiled. “Ah! Well! He’s not in Azkaban anymore. There was an investigation by the DMLE into his original conviction. You will remember that Peter Pettigrew was discovered alive and confessed to faking his own death and, at the same time, caused the explosion that killed all those people. That means that there are no criminal charges against Lord Black. The allegation of betraying the Potters to He Who Must Not Be Named was also false. It was also discovered that he was never formally charged or convicted. At the time, the Ministry was in the habit of locking people up in Azkaban without too much legal process.
He was released last year and has been assessed by St Mungo’s Rehabilitation Service healers. He was found to be too unstable to be given his freedom. He has a lot of problems. The Ministry appointed my team and me to manage Blackwood Park and keep Lord Black here to make sure there are no unfortunate incidents. Healers from St Mungo’s Rehab regularly visit and assess him. There has been no significant change in his mental state.”
Alicia snarled, “None of that has ever been made public! Why! Why the secrecy!”
“Officially, it isn’t a secret. The Ministry and the Daily Prophet have not mentioned it. If they don’t make an official statement, then as far as most people know, Lord Black is still in Azkaban.”
“Some people must know? Why hasn’t it been made public?” Alicia was angry.
“The people who own The Daily Prophet control or influence all the wizarding news outlets in this country. People have given them the story. The story doesn’t make it into public view.”
Greg and Alicia were momentarily silenced. The manager took the opportunity to ask his question again.
“Will you tell me how you happened to see our dog?”
Alicia responded. “Oh! OK! I am an animagus. I regularly come here to stay with my aunt and uncle to spend time in my animagus form. I am a Merlin Falcon. I was flying over the hills near Blackmoor when I tried to follow a flight of birds that crossed the boundary into the Park. I followed and found that the wards didn’t stop me from crossing the boundary. I was going to practice stooping on the birds when a black dog chased them off. When I saw my uncle again, I told him about it.”
“A Merlin! That’s interesting. I will let the gamekeeper know. He would have tried to hex you if he saw you. Merlins take our game birds, and he tries to discourage them.”
Alicia snorted. “Hex me! He would have got a shock if he tried. I can defend myself when I am in flight.”
The manager laughed. “Yes, I have no doubt. About the dog, the dog is Sirius Black. He is also an animagus. He and his friends became animagi when they were students at Hogwarts and never registered themselves with the Ministry. He is registered now.”
Greg wanted to know more. “Why can’t he be set free? What is the problem?”
“The problem is that Lord Black was severely damaged by exposure to dementors and the whole experience of being falsely accused. There are stories about his behaviour before that. He was never the most mature person and may have been more eccentric than what is allowed for young nobles. Close members of his family were known to be quite crazy. His father was very isolated and refused to participate in everyday society. His mother was just crazy. I never met Walburga, but I did have a confrontation with the portrait of her at the house in London. That portrait screamed filthy abuse at me until I left. Happily, no one has to go through that experience again.”
“Why? You can’t leave it like that!” Greg demanded.
“Sirius hated his old family home at 12 Grimmauld Place in Islington. On the last day at Grimmauld Place, Sirius secretly set up firebombs in the cellars. The next day, after we were settled here at the Park, the house burned to the ground. There was an old house-elf there, but he safely relocated to Sirius’s cousin’s place. The portraits and the contents of the house are gone.”
Alicia sighed, “So there are reasons why Sirius isn’t let loose.”
The manager waited for any more questions. None came.
“I will leave your names in the ward book. You both have associations with the place that goes back a long way. Your grandfather was respected here, Miss Belby. The house elves still talk about him. I am also aware of your potions business, Mr Payne. You and your wife are welcome to collect ingredients from the Park. You have a well-earned reputation for caring for the magical environment.”
-ooOOoo-
The St Mungo’s Rehabilitation Service healer assigned to Sirius Black received a request for a meeting with a St Mungo’s potioneer.
The visitor arrived at the healer's office. “Alicia, how can I help you?”
“The potioneers are working on some potions which may help patients experiencing severe trauma. Issues like anxiety, depression, and mood swings are usually not successfully treated by our present methods.”
“Correct! Do you have something which can help a patient who keeps regressing? He has retreated into his thirteen-year-old mind and won’t come out.”
“I might. This needs testing, and we need to be careful about side effects. We have a potion that will slow down the usual mental processes. The theory is that the brain misses routine checks and balances because the thought process runs too quickly. This might help with many problems where the patient can’t break out of a closed loop.”
“What’s the problem? There’s always a problem.”
Alicia smiled. “The patient may undergo a significant personality change. Someone bright and sharp-witted may not have a sparkling conversation anymore. Instead of answering back with jokes and rapid debate, they may wait and consider all possible answers before they reply to the most straightforward question. The personality change could be significant.”
The healer considered the proposal. “Let me talk to the patient I have in mind. He may be willing to test it.”
“Would that patient be the Earl of Blackmoor, by any chance?”
The healer nodded. “Yes. Do you know him?”
“I might have seen him from a distance once. I have never met him.”
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