The Sad Tale of Eunon Blackwell the Twenty-Fourth, Dark Magician...

  ***

  Eunon Blackwood XXIV, is a Scot who came of a long line of Dark Wizards. His ancestors were known for mixing Dark Magic and Herbology, often with catastrophic effect. The first wizard of his line, a Muggle-born named Eunon Wood, was the first known Dark Wizard to come from the House of Hufflepuff. Resentful of his Muggle heritage, he eventually married a daughter of the House of Black, Artemisia. She shared his dislike of Muggles, having been disowned for having a Muggle father. They combined their surnames upon their wedding each other, becoming the progenitors of the House of Blackwood.

  Eunon the Twenty-Fourth honestly tried to live up to his family name, but his heart was more in his Herbology. A few years behind Neville Longbottom, he had also been one of Pomona Sprout's favorites. She staunchly ignored his Slytherin status and his family history. She was fond of telling people that Eunon was the only first-year who had ever been accepted at first sight by her Venomous Tentacula. He spent all his classroom time through the years with the great red viney plant draped over him, much like an old wizard's scarf.

  Eunon's one big foray into evil was a bust. He crossed a Flutterby Bush with an Alihotsy Tree, and incorporated other magical elements. He spent several years on this project. Once he was satisfied, he brazenly installed quite lovely pedestal urn flower planters all along Diagon Alley, up one side and down the other, all with half-mature specimens of his creation. His only nod to a disguise was to wear the blue robes of the Ministry's Magical Maintenance Department.

  The customers and shopkeepers were quite pleased with the addition, and even more so when the bushes grew to almost twice the normal size.

  And then, they bloomed.

  It was an overnight sensation. Flutterby Bushes were noted for only blooming once a century. To have dozens of them blooming at once was unheard of. The blossoms were at least twice as large as normal. The range of scents they produced were much expanded, appealing not only to people, (who were warned off by plaques affixed to the urns), but to mosquitoes, flies, and other pests. These died happy, and nourished the soil. Fallen petals seemed to have a catnip-like effect on most familiars, not just cats or kneazles. It was only the fallen petals though, so the plants were not disturbed or damaged. Traffic became almost shoulder-to-shoulder, as people flocked in to admire the nine-day wonder, (which actually lasted nine days). And shopkeepers admired the uptick in sales.

  On the ninth day, there was a new smell. Neither Home nor Fresh Parchment, not The Sea or a Crackling Log Fire, not even Catnip or the odd, but not unpleasant scents that attracted the insect pests.

  This was a new scent, sweet but pungent, and much more pervasive. It spread through the Alley, and into the shops and businesses. It got right up into folk's sinuses, and tickled their noses, then went right on back and tickled the backs of their throats. And it spread through the whole body, tickling the tummy, and the funny bone, and the toesies, and under the arms and the chin, and that little spot on the base of the neck that makes you hunch your shoulders and shiver in delight...

  In short, people started to laugh. And kept laughing. And laughed harder. And the shopkeepers laughed inside their stores as they rang up sales. The staff at The Daily Prophet laughed as they wrote their articles. Grizel Hurtz laughed as she stopped even trying to write her Agony Aunt column, and walked into the Editor-in-Chief's Office to have a friendly drink with the teary-eyed, chortling Barnabas Gaffe.

  And up at the grand white-marble edifice of Gringott's bank, the polished bronze doors opened, and two dour-face members of Senior Management stuck their heads out. They regarded the packed Alley, just chock full of laughter. They exchanged looks with the stern goblins guarding the entrance, who nodded and went inside. Moments later, a group of laughing people were escorted gently, but firmly, out the doors. One of the scarlet and gold clad guards emerged long enough to post a notice. The doors slammed loudly behind him.

  The notice read:

  CLOSED

  Due to Human Foolishness.

  Not far up the street, George Weasley stood outside Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes, laughing merrily. Between bouts of said merriment, he assured his laughing father that he had nothing to do with this. And, he added, if he had, he would proudly admit it, because it was bloody brilliant. Arthur Weasley, who had been dispatched from the Ministry to investigate, believed him. His next-to-youngest son would do many things, but directly lying to his father was not one.

  As the afternoon progressed, the laughter became less funny. But it also began to abate somewhat. It was noted that the Flutterby Blooms were wilting, and the odd scent was fading. And, odder still, a robed and cowled person with a pushcart was wandering through Diagon Alley, handing out free samples of crystallised candy on a stick. The sides of the cart were painted, somewhat amateurishly, with the following:

  Hillary Oss

  presents

  Glumbumble Treacle Treats

  "Good for What Ails You!"

  At first the robed figure wasn't doing much business, free samples or not, and he reached the end of the Alley near George's storefront. George and Arthur were standing outside the demarcation line for George's obnoxious advertising, idly trying counter-hexes on each other, and laughing madly at each failure. The person under the cowl handed them two of the Treats, then turned the cart and headed back.

  By then, though, the people that had taken the free samples earlier had stopped laughing, and were crouched over, sides aching. And the laughing people around them had noticed the people who weren't laughing. And the laughing demands for an explanation were met with licked clean candy sticks waved feebly in the air.

  So, the pushcart was met with a surging mob of laughing candy seekers, and, somewhere in the chaos, the robed figure disappeared.

  ***

  Luckily, the Chief Witch of the Wizengamot had decades of practice in keeping a straight face. You don't stay married to Newt Scamander for days, much less decades, without learning the knack. Porpentina Scamander still found the whole thing hilarious, and she regretted the mandatory sentence she was about to impose.

  "In Summary," she said sternly. "You, Eunon Blackwood XXIV, admit to having intentionally and illegally devised a cross between Flutterby Bushes and Alihotsy Trees, also known as the Hyena Tree.

  "Yes, Chief Witch," said Eunon.

  "We will pass over the matter of festooning Diagon Alley with the plants..."

  The Warlock for the Prosecution, a weedy little chap who affected plain glass spectacles, rose from his seat. "And it please this august body... why are we passing over the matter? The defendant freely admitted..." The speaker quailed at a look from the Chief Witch.

  "Penrod," she said. "Look to my left."

  He did so.

  "Now look to my right."

  He did that as well.

  "Now, tell me. How many members of the Wizengamot do you see?"

  Penrod visibly swallowed. "Just yourself, Chief Witch."

  "That is because we are in camera, Penrod. The crux of this case is the violation of the Ban on Experimental Breeding. We have to keep any pertinent methods and details out of the public eye. So that is the only issue we are addressing, with only myself, yourself, and our Expert Witnesses.

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  Eunon blushed a little, keeping his eyes fixed on the Chief Witch's face. Well, her chin actually. Her level gaze was very intimidating. What he really did not want to do was meet Expert Witness Grandmaster Herbologist Pomona Sprout's gaze. Some Dark Wizard you are, he thought to himself.

  "And, besides," The Chief Witch paused, looking to the folder displayed on its own stand beside the Bench. "M.O.M. File, have any other charges been laid?"

  The red block letters on the face of the folder were also projected into the air above the Bench.

  NO, CHIEF WITCH. THERE IS A RELATED LAWSUIT, BUT AGAINST THE MINISTRY, NOT MR. BLACKWOOD.

  "Related?"

  THE MINISTRY NOTIFIED THE DENIZENS OF DIAGON ALLEY OF THEIR INTENTION TO REMOVE AND DESTROY THE FLUTTERBYENA BUSHES. A COALITION OF SHOPKEEPERS, BUSINESS OWNERS AND CONCERNED CITIZENS HAVE FILED FOR AN INJUNCTION TO BLOCK THIS ACTION.

  Eunon's heart leaped. That was the name he had been looking for!

  "Flutterbyena?"

  WE HAD TO CALL THEM SOMETHING, CHIEF WITCH. I TOOK THE LIBERTY.

  The Chief Witch looked at Eunon. "Any objection, Mr. Blackwood?"

  "It's perfect," Eunon muttered. "Thank you, Madam File."

  HAH! YOU'RE QUITE WELCOME, MASTER BLACKWOOD.

  "The assembled citizenry wish the bushes to remain, then?"

  QUITE SO. THEY ARE UNIQUE AFTER ALL, AND CERTAINLY A DRAW FOR VISITORS, I.E. CUSTOMERS. AS FOR THE RISK OF LAUGHTER, FLUTTERBYS ONLY BLOOM EVERY HUNDRED YEARS, AND THE CURE IS KNOWN. THEY ARE WILLING TO TAKE THEIR CHANCES.

  "And none of the afflicted wished to pursue charges?"

  THE MINISTRY SENT A SURVEY GROUP OUT TO CONSULT WITH KNOWN, AS YOU SAY, 'AFFLICTED.' SOME COMPLAINED OF MUSCLE SORENESS THE DAY AFTER, BUT AFTER THAT WORE OFF, THEY WERE ALMOST UNIVERSAL IN THEIR PRAISE OF THE EXPERIENCE. AFTER ALL, 'A MERRY HEART DOETH GOOD LIKE A MEDICINE...'

  "So, that brings us back to the violation of the Ban on Experimental Breeding. Penrod, what is the mandated minimum sentence for that offense?"

  "Ah, Chief Witch, the minimum is five years in Azkaban, but the Prosecution would argue that such flagrant..."

  "Five years it is, then. Get out of my chambers, Penrod. Oh, and Penrod...?"

  The little man, already halfway to the door, froze and looked back.

  She was glowering over her spectacles. "Don't let me hear you refer to my body as august, ever again. It rubs me the wrong way, somehow."

  There was a high-pitched, "Yes'm!" and he was gone.

  She looked back at Eunon. "May I have a private word with you, young man?"

  Eunon straightened. "Yes, Chief Witch!"

  "Call me Tina. And I'll call you Eunon. Or Boy. Because that is what you are, from the perspective of my age and experience. Does that offend you?"

  "No... Tina. At this moment, it's how I feel."

  She sighed. "Well, we'll just have to see." She sighed. "You're not much of a Dark Wizard, Boy. I realise you have a lot to live up to, what with your family tree, but, well... " She paused. "I, for one, don't think making people laugh is going to match up to the carnivorous hedge mazes the first of your line was known for. Do you?"

  Eunon was blushing again. "No, Tina."

  "And what sort of a Dark Wizard goes around distributing antidotes?"

  The blush deepened, but he did not speak.

  She sighed. "Look, Boy, I had to give you five years. And so, you've got five years. Mostly you will be dealing with surviving, and that should be your priority. Azkaban is a hard place, and no mistake. But you also have five years to think. I am not going to tell you how or what to think. If it's a Dark Wizard you really want to be, then Azkaban can teach you to be one of the best... or possibly worst. But whatever you decide to be, be it to your fullest."

  Eunon met her peircing gaze full on, and nodded. "Thank you, Tina."

  She lifted a locket watch hanging from a brooch, and checked it. "You have about two hours before the bailiffs come for you. Our Expert Witnesses want to pick your brain for a while, and I told them that would be fine.

  He stood staring for a moment. Her white brows drew together like a hawk stooping on prey. "Git, I said!"

  Eunon was standing by the table where the Expert Witnesses were seated before he knew what happened. Pomona Sprout was... beaming at him?

  The other person was George Weasley, who advised the Wizengamot on his area of expertise, Hexes, Curses, and Jinxes. He was a dab hand at sorting out the playful from the malicious. He was pulling over a chair for Eunon from a nearby table.

  "Oh, do sit down, will you? We're dying to hear all about it." He moved his own chair so they were grouped at one end of the table. He beamed at Eunon as well. "And, as one who should well know, I have to say, 'Brilliant'!"

  Pomona reached across the table and patted Eunon's suddenly cold hand. "It really is, dear. I've had a bare chance to examine your creation, so far, but it is quite, quite remarkable! And, while I can't be positive as yet, I do believe they are going to breed true!"

  "But... but..." Eunon stammered. "Aren't the Ministry going to destroy...?"

  George clouded up like a thunderstorm. Pomona gasped, putting her hand to her lips.

  "Destroy them? I should think not!"

  "Over my dead body." George was glowering around the Chambers, as if daring someone to come at him, mate, if they thought they were hard enough. "I've already... liberated one for my New Products Lab, and two for the Greenhouse at Hogwarts."

  The former Professor nodded primly. "It's all for the advancement of Herbological Science," she said. "By the time you have served your unfortunate sentence, Blackwell's Flutterbyena Bush will be a Ministry recognised and approved breed, and, I am sure, in very high demand by gardeners and landscapers worldwide."

  "Thereby raising money for even more Herbological Advancement!" George grinned The Weasley Grin that was known to all Hogwarts students, (seeing as the painting of Fred Weasley occupied a place of honor in the Great Hall. Fireworks occasionally erupted from it, quite unpredictably).

  "Blackwell's Flutterbyena Bush...?" Eunon's mind was getting no traction at all.

  "Which reminds me," George said. "We need you to go over this contract and see if you can live with it. Pomona thinks it's fair, but it's your baby, so..."

  "Contract?" Eunon looked down at the unrolled scroll of parchment in front of him. The only things that jumped out at him were numbers. "75, 15, 10?"

  "Profit sharing percentages." George pointed as he explained. "75% to an escrow account for you, 15% to Pomona for Consulting and Expertise, and 10% to D&W Enterprises for Development, Production and Distribution. Good money all around. If you agree."

  "Good money?" Eunon was finally catching up. "Professor? Is this really..."

  She was beaming again. "Really and truly, dear boy. I know plants, and George knows money and markets. The minute he saw your little display in Diagon Alley, he came to me... And if we're going to be partners, I think you should get used to calling me 'Pomona.' "

  ***

  A bare ten minutes later, and Eunon was up to speed, on the project, on the contract, on everything.

  "Oh, I will sign, Prof... Pomona. Indeed I will. And... it's something to look forward to..."

  Faces around the table were serious. George nodded, then spoke. 'Well, something else to think about. My lab could use a full-time Herbologist. When this takes off, and it will, we'll want to follow up. And I am going to move Heaven and Earth to get D&W an Exemption to the Ban. I know someone at the Ministry that could always squeeze another Department into his Enforcement baliwick!"

  Eunon nodded. "Definitely something to think about. And, as I said, I will sign. "But," he set his chin and gave them a firm look. "40, 30, 30."

  Pomona just smiled. At George. He rolled his eyes.

  "Yes, yes," he said, pulling a new contract from inside his robes. "You're right, you're always right, you're never wrong."

  ***

  The Chief Witch showed up at their table. "Boy, your time is about up. Did you have a good talk?" She magnificently managed to ignore the contents of a totally illicit picnic basket spread over the table. Automatically picking up the untouched glass of wine that had mysteriously appeared before her, she looked as if she had always been holding it.

  "Yes, Tina," Eunon said gratefully. "Thank you."

  "Oh, don't thank me. The Wheels of Justice grind slowly, but exceedingly fine. Or words to that effect." She sipped at the wine, and a pleased smile came to her lips.

  Pomona rose from the table and sighed. "My only regret is missing the Blooming. If I'm going to last another century, I should start living a more moderate life." She tossed down the last of her wine, and belched behind her hand. "Or not."

  Eunon bit his lip. "Ah, well, I... don't know if it's going to be exactly a century..."

  The other three simultaneously gave him shrewd looks. He hastened to continue.

  "It was one of the things I had to, ah, tweak? In order to get them to bloom this year, you know. So the cycle might be... off?"

  The Chief Witch cocked her head to one side. "Off more? Or off less?"

  "Oh, ah, probably less, I would say. The Alihotsy Tree blooms every year, and even though it doesn't show, there is quite a lot of Alihotsy wrapped up..." he tapered off to a halt, then said, "Probably less."

  Pomona walked around the end of the table as he stood, and gave him a hug. Then she stood back to regard him, holding one of his hands in both of hers. She was a little teary-eyed.

  "I won't say goodbye, then. You are to take care of yourself, young man. And there is someone back at the Greenhouse that would like to see you, once you get out. She was quite petulant that she couldn't accompany me, but my goodness, she's two stories tall now. Besides, she's teething again."

  Eunon felt the tiniest of tickles scurrying up his wrist under his shirt cuff. He would have started, but Pomona was holding his hand too firmly. "You just can't talk sense to some people," she confided.

  As Eunon walked toward the Chamber door, a bailiff before him, and a bailiff behind, he edged up the cuff of his shirt, and regarded his new 'bracelet.' It was made of what looked like spiky red vines, and had a bulbous 'charm' hanging from it. As he slid the cuff back, the bulb split in a toothsome 'smile.'

  Oh, well, he thought. I'm an Herbologist. We'll figure something out. He smiled. Still, I don't feel so alone.

  ***

  The Flutterbyenas did, in fact, bloom the next year. And the next. By the third year, it was a full-blown Festival, culminating with the Ninth Day Laughapalooza. There were prizes for Best Laugh, as well as Loudest and Most Obnoxious. The Grand Prize went to the Supreme Hyena, the person who resisted the antidote the longest. Gringotts had banners up all through the Festival, reminding everyone that Ninth Day was a Bank Holiday.

  Oh, and the recently Ministry-Approved Blackwell's Flutterbyena Bushes were available as seedlings at Noltie's Botanical Novelties.