Ó Móráin Estate & Farms, 0915 hours.


Balfour Spectre stood outside the threshold of the Ó Móráin grounds, looking rather put out but comfortable in the verdant Irish countryside. The earth was still muddy from a light rain the night before and even from this distance, the scent of mingling beasts was prevalent. That particular redolence of musk and unnatural, burnished iron. He hadn't bothered to search for his formal work robes - largely because he wasn't supposed to be at work today.

The assigned inspector had come down with something - they weren't entirely sure what but that was for the Healers at St.Mungo's to decide.

An annoyed expression pulled at the wizard's brow, although it quickly dissipated. A figure was cutting through the mist on the other side of the gates, and his countenance took on a look of politeness. It appeared to be one of the staff hands, by his way of dress, and Balfour waved once in greeting before retrieving a thin wallet to display the Department's official emblem. Unnecessary. He had been Head of Division for nearly half a year now and most farmhands recognized him in one way or another. The other man began to lower several of the estate wards.

"G- good morrow," Balfour cleared his throat to dispel the croaky morning stammer, "I believe that I am expected by the proprietor for an inspection this morning?"

A curt nod. The wards lowered, he finally passed the threshold into the Ó Móráin farm grounds.

Liadan knew that inspections were part of her routine. But her wedded bliss had yet to be interrupted by unpleasant business. Thus, being called away from her happy home, back to the dreary estate that had caused her so much pain in the last few years, had left her in a sour disposition. But Liadan knew she must play nice with the ministry- first and foremost as the wife of a wizengamot member, secondly as there was a department head who was coming out to have a look around. Liadan wondered if there had been some false report made to drag someone so important out, but she was doing her best not to worry.

She had arrived at the estate very early in the morning, the house elves in a hurry to get things presentable. They had prepared a rather large breakfast. But the rooms were draftier here than they were at Kerry Cove and she was generally displeased.

Liadan had been in the gardens when one of the younger farmhands came running up to her- a squib she had begrudgingly hired to keep his overly qualified and skilled father on staff. "Mr. Spectre. Is. Here," the boy choke out between puffs. Liadan scrunched up her nose. She would chide him later for his lack of manners in addressing her. For the time being she gripped her umbrella by the handle (better safe than sorry) and apparated from her garden down to the front gate with a pop. Walking would take quite some time, she would rather get this over with.

She had planned her attire carefully. Traditional dress, very modest- and flat shoes. Liadan always felt that by making herself appear smaller, the ministry dealt with her with less severity. There was something about a woman who was not even five feet tall, drowning in skirts, that seemed to set them off their game. It was probably her likeness to a porcelain doll. Of course, Mr. Spectre being a pureblood, he was likely more accustomed to the sight- but she would take whatever advantages she could find.

"Mr. Spectre!" she greeted, doing her best to wear a casual and friendly smile- it was hard, considering her current state of mind. "How good of you to be so prompt in arrival! I am very glad to see you had no problems gaining entry. I told Perkins that you were to be expected." The farmhand gave a stiff bow before departing.

"Tell me, Mr. Spectre, where would you like to start? Each inspector who has come along has done things a bit differently. Though most tend to drop by the slaughter houses first- just to get the worst part of the day done as quickly as possible. But I will defer to your particular expertise in inspections."

He had forgotten how Liadán Whitman was still a  wee lass. Literally speaking. Incongruous with the ownership of so controversial a farm but telling of a certain formidability.

Balfour met her courteous welcome with a slight bow of his head and a quick genial smile to put the witch at ease. Admittedly this estate did not have the best track record with the department but he hadn't even hit his first year as Division Head, and was not interested in minor misdemeanours while the dragon epidemic was still at large.

"Mrs Whitman," he hoped she did not mind the title - or was too polite to say otherwise. "We greatly appreciate your presence for this inspection at such short notice. I must apologize, personally, for the clerical oversight that failed to dispatch an earlier notification."

The words tumbled out just as they did in his note, so accustomed he was now to giving formal warnings and press statements for work purposes. Whether it was truly an error or Mrs Cunningham's wiliness, the gods knew. The whole business always left a bitter aftertaste. His gaze narrowed with displaced sympathy as Liadán offered to let him decide how to go about the survey.

"I think, if you wouldn't mind, we could first take a quick study of your equine stock." Balfour had been one of three Tamers to witness a Horntail's death by disease last evening, and was not impatient to near the shroud of death so soon. At least nothing worse than a Thestral. He glanced away from his host, to consider the grounds and its morning mist. "And then perhaps the Insectary, before the slaughter houses? I'm not so robust as my inspectors, you see."

He was very glad to not be an inspector, and have to deal with slaughter houses on a daily basis.

Liadan waved her hand in a dismissive way. "Oh, I quite understand how things like that occur. I am always happy to cooperate with ministry and oblige in any way that I can. I find, after my experiences, it is simpler to be agreeable than to make a fuss. Your apology is much appreciated, though, and it is good of you to extend one. I have not found many people at the ministry to be apologetic or ready to admit their error." Then again, her interactions with the ministry had been less than pleasant the majority of the time.

"As you wish, Mr. Spectre. We have quite a number of equine classification.  Abraxan, Granian, Aethonan, Thestral, Unicorns, and Hippogriffs. We have bred quite a few winged horses who have gone on to do quite well in the races. We recently sold a stud at auction for a very pretty penny. The stud had placed first in five consecutive championship races. Have you the capability to see a Thestral?" Liadan asked. "I assume you have enough experience with Hippogriffs not to get yourself injured. I should hate for yet another scandal in the papers in reference to my farm! Reputation is so hard to rebuild once it is destroyed. I know this first hand."

Liadan started off in the direction of her horse pastures. Her pace was brisk, but with their height difference his stride should have no trouble keeping up. "Do let me know if you need to take a rest. I am not certain how active you are. I typically apparate from place to place. Oh, I know, it's quite silly. But I don't fly a broom, you see, it's not lady like. And I do not particularly enjoy riding. I've some riding dresses fashioned in case it is necessary, but I just prefer not to put myself at risk."

It was a shame he wasn't like most bureaucrats- willing to forego the hard work to save himself the time. An "inspection" of full marks without having to look 'round would be handy. "I do hope everything is in order and ready for your review," Liadan said. "I've been away from the estate since my nuptials. I rely on the senior staff to keep everything running smoothly. I haven't been as diligent as I should in checking up on things. I really ought to hire a proper manager of some sort. I'm just so busy as a new wife that I haven't the time to dedicate to the business as I once did."

Balfour's eyebrows climbed marginally with each sentence that dropped from his host's lips.

Creatures did not speak so much as people and it felt very much like an assault on his ears to have to cope with the plethora of statements, questions and implications that Liadán effortlessly made. Keeping up with his transient guise as an attentive inspector, he procured a stiff sheet of parchment from his jacket - and then a quill.

"I do, yes -" Balfour replied and jotted down the equine classifications in shorthand, walking as they spoke. "- we have been quite keen to inspect the Thestrals. You understand, I'm sure, as so very few farms carry license to breed them after all." While not as dangerous as many expect, there was a prevalent taboo even within his division about rearing the skeletal horses.

Nothing he personally cared for. Taboos like that did nothing but get in the way of work.

Balfour glanced up from the parchment, a pause to register Liadán's mention of hiring a 'proper manager', and then the social cue that almost escaped him. "My congratulations," he offered with genuine courtesy. "That's understandable. I would be more than happy to recommend professionals for the position, if you would like. This inspection is pure formality - a brief survey. You're more than welcome to request a thorough scrutiny when the farm is more well-equipped."

His tone, though still polite, hinted that requesting an inspection would be better than prudent. It would undoubtedly help repair the Ó Móráin reputation. They were coming up now to the paddocks and Balfour stuck his quill behind his ear, distracted by the sight. "Your estate is quite impressive, I must say."

"Yes, yes. Thestrals are a messy lot to breed. And it is difficult to find workers who can help. I myself could not see Thestrals until my mother passed away. They are a bit unsettling." Liadan altered her route to take him first to the Thestrals, since he was keen to observe them.

He congratulated her and she smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Spectre. I am quite ecstatic in my marriage. And I was unaware that I could request an inspection. I was under the assumption the department would be far too busy. I would greatly appreciate recommendations for the position. You see, my social circles are not well equipped for such a position. And though my current employees are excellent for the labor, they do not have the right head for business and adhering to the law. Many laws are quite complicated."

"How helpful your visit has already been, Mr. Spectre! Would it be too much to ask to acquire a book of laws pertaining to my particular business to keep on hand for a future manager?" she asked. "And when I hire one, to have one of your inspectors aid  me in ensuring that the manager is fully qualified and in complete understanding of how things must be done?"

He called her estate impressive. And Liadan smiled again. (She was all smiles now that she was married, it seemed.) "It was amassed over generations," she explained. "It started out as quite a small farm, but each person who inherited it added land and creatures and income. I myself have not made any expansion- I feel as though it is large enough and self sustaining. And after the problems I have had, do not want the headache that comes with extending wards and learning new creatures. Perhaps when I have children, they will be more interested continuing the growth."

Liadan came to a halt once she reached the gate to the fence surrounding the land set aside for the thestrals. "I'll lead you to the Thestral stable first, and then you can check the horses for health if you like." She extracted her wand and with a few spells the gate swung open. Liadan waited for Balfour to enter before re-arming the gate's wards and locks. "I'm afraid you'll have to be patient. Each fence is protected by magic to prevent unlawful entry. After the recall we greatly increased security measures."

He had been out of polite society for longer than appropriate but Balfour found it surprisingly easy to let Liadán carry the conversation, bringing them smoothly towards the paddock gates with little need of gracelessness.

"Of course Mrs Whitman, I'll have my secretary post one to you-" he smiled briefly at the witch and for an even briefer moment, considered what Mrs Lanningham would make of the farm's sociable proprietor; possibly something flattering but uncharitable. "We seek only to enable the proper administration of these farms."

Every time he rattled off something that sounded like it originated in the aforementioned handbook, the wizard had to stop from biting his tongue. Instead he commented on the subject at hand.

"Bigger isn't necessarily better." Balfour smiled grimly as he dropped his professional tone. "For what it's worth, I think you're to be commended for focusing on its maintenance." They reached the fences at that instance - and just as well, as he hadn't been entirely sure about what else to add.

The parchment went back into his pocket, the quill behind his ear. They crossed the threshold and he followed Liadán towards the stables, sleeves rolled up. "I'll only have to take a thorough look at your eldest and youngest," he told her once they were close enough to the stables structure. He could catch that sweet, rotten scent in the air - so telling of the Thestrals. "Or we'll be here all day."

"And I do so desperately want to operate within the law. I know that the farm has had its problems in the past- both under my leadership and the leadership of others in my family- but it is very important to me that I maintain the reputation of the business. And myself, of course. Any harm that comes to me, goes directly to my husband. I should hate to ruin Oscar's political chances through any nefarious dealings." There was more to it than that, but that was a serious driving force.

She felt relieved that he was glad at how well she was doing with maintenance at the moment. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, Mr. Spectre. I have put forth quite an effort in attempts to keep everything running legally- despite the cost or consequences."

Balfour rolled up his sleeves on his way to the stables. He asked for the eldest and youngest, and Liadan nodded. One of her stablehands was in mucking out a stall, and she sent for him to fetch the youngest foal. "The eldest stays indoors, mostly," she said. "The man who cares for the Thestral stables is rather attached to him, so I've allowed him to keep the Thestral despite its advancing age." She led him to the stall furthest from the door where an elderly thestral was eating from a bucket of vegetables. "He should be back shortly with the latest foal."

Liadan led the Thestral out of the stall, baiting it along with a carrot. "Not my favorite of animals," she said to Balfour. "But a necessity to some. We have even sold thestrals to Hogwarts in the past for their carriages."

Dressed up so prettily in Liadán's fine words, the inclination towards law-abiding behaviour sounded like a practical one. Balfour was in possession of a suspicious mind - with politicians, peers, and creatures he feared the worst of behaviours - but there was little reason to interpret his host's good intentions as a guise for something nefarious.

Balfour smiled wordlessly and gratefully as he watched the elderly Thestral shuffle forwards. As it left the stall, the entirety of its form became apparent. They were gaunt by nature and yet old age came with something beyond rawboned anatomy. The lustrousness of their translucent coats grew wane with appetite.

"They aren't very popular," he agreed, glancing only briefly at the carrot in Liadán's hand; the carnivorous equine did not seem interested though it was happy enough to be led. "Even so. I have a weakness for anything with wings." Balfour approached the Thestral confidently and treading lightly.

It was calm (calmer than the foal would be, surely) and whined as he ran a hand along its sparse mane. "You've lived a while, haven't you girl? Look at yours eyes." Another bray, softer and amused. He smiled sheepishly at Liadán. "My compliments to your stable keeper. Ah -" Balfour glanced past her shoulder, at two approaching silhouettes"- speak of the devil."


***

The tour of the stables had taken more time than anticipated; equines were a precocious lot. Fortunately the rest of the survey went by at a quicker pace: from the Insectary to the slaughter houses to the Hippogriffs and Dragons and less dangerous beasts. A blur of fur, feathers, fire. Balfour and Liadán were exiting a grange of purebred Kneazles when he put away his inspection list for the final time that day.

He rubbed the back of his head gingerly and squinted at the distant hillocks, bathed golden in the late afternoon sun.

"I seem to have taken up most of your day, Mrs Whitman." Balfour frowned. "Your farm is extensive. We'll have to send a pair of inspectors for the next evaluation," he fixed the minute witch with a light-hearted expression, and paused to think. "l can have my secretary owl you today's official report upon submission. Is there anything you'd like me to add? We try to take external circumstances into account, where they apply."

Liadan was relieved that the tour was over. Her day was wasted, and although she desperately wanted to get home before Oscar was done at the ministry she did not want to change being rude to so important an official. "Yes, a pair of inspectors might work much better," she agreed. "It can be quite a lot to go through. Especially on one's own. I can always have some of my employees show them around and help in any way possible."

"I would like a copy of the report. I try to keep such things on file, in case I need them. It is very kind of you to offer. I generally have to ask for them." Of course, in the past couple of years, it had been a little crazy at the farm. "The only thing I can think of is that I have not been on-property since my nuptials in March. I do hope there were no glaring infractions. And I certainly look forward to your suggestions on managers for the business." Liadan was worried she would be forced to rely upon her estranged brother to keep everything in order.

They were close to the estate, and she used her wand to magic away the bit of dirt on her shoes and the hem of her dress. "Could I offer you some tea, Mr. Spectre?" she asked. "Or water? Some kind of refreshment? No doubt after such an exhausting review you might like to rest your feet for a few moments. I can have the house elves prepare something in just a few minutes."

Liadan barely waited for an answer before she moved toward the back entrance of her home. "It will only take a few extra minutes of your time, Mr. Spectre. I would feel a horrible hostess if I did not offer you refreshments before you are on your way. All of the time you spent on the farm and as incredibly helpful as you have been, it is the very least that I can do."