- Messages
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Introduction
<FONT font="Georgia">Characters: Gregory Yearling
Gregory Yearling, Sr.
Keevan White
Regius Kendall-White
Lucan White
Simon Blackmoore
Status: Ongoing
Permissions: Contact Claire
Gregory Yearling, Sr.
Keevan White
Regius Kendall-White
Lucan White
Simon Blackmoore
Status: Ongoing
Permissions: Contact Claire
"I've a job for you to do, Junior," said Gregory Sr, his face bobbing away in the crackling fireplace of Audel Snow's household. Gregory Jr. was sprawled out onto his stomach with his head propped onto his hands, listening with interest to Wizarding England's latest news. It had taken his father a while to get to the point, for there was a lot of catch up on, but there was a crease on his father's brow that hadn't been there last Fall, and that made five creases, now.
"You don't need me in Yorkshire, Father?" Greg Jr. responded with concern, but the phantasmic head shook itself.
"Not this time. If anything, I'll still be in Australia for that conference."
"I thought you said you'd be finished by tomorrow evening?"
"A pertinent observation which leads me to this job I'm asking of you," Senior told him. Gregory's dubious look made his father scowl. "I'd had enough trouble with you, trying to find you work. The least you could do is this one for me."
"That's not fair," Gregory responded immediately. "What kind of experience could I have possibly gotten in mountain regions of the North Island as a lion?"
"Some damned common sense!" his father barked, which made him jump. A fiery hand pushed back what little hair was left on Gregory Sr.'s head. "I'm sorry. This issue has been ... upsetting me, recently."
"I can see that," Greg murmured softly. This was not at all like the usually mild-mannered, very English father.
Gregory Sr. took a breath and began again. "Junior, this job is not entirely above board, per say. Now, don't get upset!" he said shortly when Greg spluttered. "I'd never get you into anything illegal. At least, not on purpose." Senior's frown was becoming more pronounced.
"Recently, I've been having the most awful trouble trying to source potions and powders in St. Mungo's stockroom, and I'm not the only one who's been dealing with the same problem. All the nurses and Healers say the same thing: we don't get enough of what we need, and what we do get is substandard and not at all up to scratch. It's not our suppliers," his father explained, biting his left thumbnail in a familiar habit. "It's got something to do with their competition. There's been talk of deals going down under-the-counter, and Keevan White." he said darkly.
"White," repeated Gregory blankly.
"Yes." said the Senior. "He deals with pharmaceuticals, and as far as we know he's a decent benefactor to St. Mungo's. He doesn't supply us directly, but supplies our suppliers. Ah, it's all very complicated, but the important thing is that I met with his Distribution Manager during the second conference session." Gregory stared blankly at his father. "Oh, how do I explain this? I got nothing but deflections and weasel-words, but I did find out that their manor house in New Zealand has nearly been completed, and they're looking for staff." His father's plan was starting to piece itself together in his head, finally.
"Father, no-"
"No, you see, it must be you because you're the oldest and you can take care of yourself!"
"Are you trying to tell me that you don't have any other adult children, Father?" Gregory cut in angrily, and his father looked cowed. "Your youngest is twenty-six! Anyway, that's not at all the point. What exactly are you asking of me?" Senior let go of his thumbnail and stared at his son very seriously.
"I am asking you to seek out Keevan White's new residence, attempt to procure a job there, and try to find out something about his dealings so that we can know for sure who the culprit is!" Gregory opened his mouth and his father cut him off. "Under no circumstances are you to endanger yourself, or try to use any information against him. The Whites are wealthy, and they might be able to make life very hard for us, or worse, if you discover something illicit. Use your mother's name," Senior told him.
"You seem to be under the impression that I've agreed to any of this!" said Gregory loudly. There were some thumps and a cough from the other room, and both father and son quieted down.
"Look," said Gregory Sr. "I am asking you because I trust you. I trust your sense of self-preservation, and your harmlessness. Whatever you did, you would do a good job and likely not upset anyone. This isn't a matter of life or death, so there's no use getting the Aurors in on it," he said. Unfortunately, Greg was starting to see the sense in his plan. The hospital's supplies were a serious matter, but with no one to directly point a finger at, the Ministry's hands were tied. "I can help provide you with a resume and references," The Healer continued. "I've heard the grounds are extensive, there's sure to be a place for your strength."
The son stared at his father for a long moment before closing his eyes and sighing. "So long as Audel and Demeter don't get involved." he told his father, who immediately said "Of course not!".
"It's going to be weird enough as it is, telling them that I'm going for a job. I've been a professional lion for the past seven years, for Merlin's sake."
His father sighed his own relief. "Thank you, Gregory. I wish you all the best. Owl me what you have, and I'll return it with references and anything else you need. Oh, and-" Senior cut himself off with a sharp look to his son. "Whatever you do, don't go shifting into your animagus form! The last thing we need is for Keevan White to have any leverage over you. If he even thinks you might be the white lion traipsing around his grounds, you can forget everything you might have learned from them."
"What am I, a fool?" said Greg indignantly. "Look, don't worry. I'll probably end up doing some gardening, or something, no more. I might not even be able to score a job, there."
Part I
As it turned out, gardening was about the only job in the sizable list of employees that the Whites required that Gregory was able to do. He'd done up Adrianna's garden all those years ago, and Audel's herbs would have been dead a long time ago if not for him, so a bit of heavy lifting and hedge-trimming was nothing.
Gregory received his father's half-fabricated resume quite promptly, and he soon set about researching the Whites as best he could. New Zealand wasn't much of an information mine about them, yet, but he found the employment advertisements soon enough, and noted that they wanted someone who worked with both their hands and magic. Perfect.
Regius White was the first of the family that Gregory encountered, and he found him to be a fair and welcoming interviewer. Greg decided long before he'd begun his attempts at infiltration to just be himself and say very little. He was courteous and reassuring, and found himself employed for the first time in years with a lot less effort than he'd expected. This surprised him, as his father had implied that there was great wealth to the Whites, which had Greg assuming that they'd have high security, but it seemed that Regius was not overly concerned with who their gardener ought to be, which suited Greg just fine.
Two months passed very quickly in the White's employ. Gregory flooed early every morning to the sprawling manor house and tended the grounds with care, all the while keeping an eye out for suspicious activities. Many workmen came and went, and various businessmen would call during 'office' hours, but it took him almost till the end of the second month to realise that the most important happenings were occurring at night.
This gave Gregory the idea to offer his services in the manor itself, and so he was brought in two days week to refresh some flower arrangements and water houseplants. It was a good job, despite his expectations, and Gregory found himself enjoying the activities of the household while quietly taking part in its running. He glimpsed Keevan White only twice, as the man did not spend a lot of time dawdling in the hedgerows, but he'd made eye contact the second time as he was wiping sweat from his brow.
Gregory was squinting into the glare of a second story window when he realised he'd been staring into eyes. Startled, he'd dropped the bag of lawn trimmings he'd been carrying and blinked into the piercing sapphire blues that watched. They were gone as soon as he figured out whom he was staring at, but Greg had felt a thrill of fear and also interest.
On the twenty-third of November, at seven thirty on a warm Spring evening, Gregory found his chance.
Gregory received his father's half-fabricated resume quite promptly, and he soon set about researching the Whites as best he could. New Zealand wasn't much of an information mine about them, yet, but he found the employment advertisements soon enough, and noted that they wanted someone who worked with both their hands and magic. Perfect.
Regius White was the first of the family that Gregory encountered, and he found him to be a fair and welcoming interviewer. Greg decided long before he'd begun his attempts at infiltration to just be himself and say very little. He was courteous and reassuring, and found himself employed for the first time in years with a lot less effort than he'd expected. This surprised him, as his father had implied that there was great wealth to the Whites, which had Greg assuming that they'd have high security, but it seemed that Regius was not overly concerned with who their gardener ought to be, which suited Greg just fine.
Two months passed very quickly in the White's employ. Gregory flooed early every morning to the sprawling manor house and tended the grounds with care, all the while keeping an eye out for suspicious activities. Many workmen came and went, and various businessmen would call during 'office' hours, but it took him almost till the end of the second month to realise that the most important happenings were occurring at night.
This gave Gregory the idea to offer his services in the manor itself, and so he was brought in two days week to refresh some flower arrangements and water houseplants. It was a good job, despite his expectations, and Gregory found himself enjoying the activities of the household while quietly taking part in its running. He glimpsed Keevan White only twice, as the man did not spend a lot of time dawdling in the hedgerows, but he'd made eye contact the second time as he was wiping sweat from his brow.
Gregory was squinting into the glare of a second story window when he realised he'd been staring into eyes. Startled, he'd dropped the bag of lawn trimmings he'd been carrying and blinked into the piercing sapphire blues that watched. They were gone as soon as he figured out whom he was staring at, but Greg had felt a thrill of fear and also interest.
On the twenty-third of November, at seven thirty on a warm Spring evening, Gregory found his chance.
<COLOR color="#650335">Fool of a Yearling!
