10th December, 1894 — A muggle’s back garden
The 12 Days of Christmas
Why, Evander asked himself today, would anyone do this? It was a rather futile question posed in his line of work, because he never understood what went through lawbreakers’ brains, if they had functioning brains at all. A prank, perhaps – an eminently ridiculous way to be breaking the Statue of Secrecy.
Before his eyes, another bird fluttered down from the branches of the pear tree, apparently materialised from nothing.
Magic, undoubtedly. This would have been less of a problem if: it had not been a muggle’s tree, in a muggle garden; if there had only been one potentially-conjured bird, and not a steady flow of them appearing in the branches; if they had yet found a way to end the bird-blossoming spell.
He was not the only Ministry employee who had been called out to deal with this Situation. The member of the muggle liaison office had escorted the bewildered muggle into the house, well away from the two-dozen birds already littering their garden. An obliviator was on hand with them, once a statement had been taken about all the muggle woman knew: but all she knew was that chickens and geese, among other birds, had been popping into existence in her tree for the past day.
Evander wasn’t sure yet whether they were conjurations, or whether they were being sent from somewhere else by magic, but he and the other departments here to deal with the situation had so far figured out that both trying Finite or banishing the already-present birds only made more birds appear in the tree. “Make sure the birds don’t leave the garden,” Evander instructed with a grimace – the last thing he wanted was for possibly-cursed birds to be let loose in muggle England, and wreak havoc anywhere else. Someone had just cast a spell around the perimeter of the garden, to stop them flying off – not that Evander was very keen sharing space with the French hens currently pecking around his ankles. “Do we think – oh, look out, this one’s a swan!” he called, as an even larger mass of white feathers sailed down from the tree towards them.
open to 1-3 other characters, including Ministry employees who could have reasonably been called out, or a wizarding neighbour in the area!Before his eyes, another bird fluttered down from the branches of the pear tree, apparently materialised from nothing.
Magic, undoubtedly. This would have been less of a problem if: it had not been a muggle’s tree, in a muggle garden; if there had only been one potentially-conjured bird, and not a steady flow of them appearing in the branches; if they had yet found a way to end the bird-blossoming spell.
He was not the only Ministry employee who had been called out to deal with this Situation. The member of the muggle liaison office had escorted the bewildered muggle into the house, well away from the two-dozen birds already littering their garden. An obliviator was on hand with them, once a statement had been taken about all the muggle woman knew: but all she knew was that chickens and geese, among other birds, had been popping into existence in her tree for the past day.
Evander wasn’t sure yet whether they were conjurations, or whether they were being sent from somewhere else by magic, but he and the other departments here to deal with the situation had so far figured out that both trying Finite or banishing the already-present birds only made more birds appear in the tree. “Make sure the birds don’t leave the garden,” Evander instructed with a grimace – the last thing he wanted was for possibly-cursed birds to be let loose in muggle England, and wreak havoc anywhere else. Someone had just cast a spell around the perimeter of the garden, to stop them flying off – not that Evander was very keen sharing space with the French hens currently pecking around his ankles. “Do we think – oh, look out, this one’s a swan!” he called, as an even larger mass of white feathers sailed down from the tree towards them.
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