4: The Fairy God-Jarvey

Disclaimer: This story is based on a more-or-less logical expansion of concepts and characters set forth in the "Harry Potter" novels by J.K. Rowling, who is not me; therefore, I make no money from borrowing this universe, nor do I claim to possess any right thereto. Only the Jarvey and her friends are mine.

Chapter 4: The Fairy God-Jarvey

"Humph?"

No reply.

"Humphrey? You fall asleep on me?"

Humphrey was still and silent in his rocking chair. Something about it didn't seem right to Reggie.

"C'mon, Humph, snore or something." She clambered up his leg and put her little paws on his chest. It took her a moment to realize that there was no whisky-smelling breath puffing against her whiskers.

"Humphrey!"

It was a horrible moment, but Reggie wasn't aware of the horror. Nor did she realize that all her fur was standing on end, the room crackling and alight as if it were in the middle of a roman candle, or that there was yelling all around her. All Reggie knew was that her master needed help and that she would do anything at all to get it for him.

Tarty wondered why potential Fairy Godmothers always seemed to find their powers in the middle of the night. Or during mealtime. Or when she was using the loo. All things considered, she supposed she was grateful that this one had set off the alert in the middle of the night. Though she'd made some unusual slip-ups in the standard recruitment spiel over the years while suffering lack of sleep.

Before she could give said speech, however, she would have to clean up the mess.

"Oberon's holey socks," Tarty muttered under her breath.

One glance showed her that the old man on the floor was beyond help. She cleared the mob of Healers, Aurors, and inexplicably, an acrobat, a bookie, and a petty thief. She speedily rendered them sufficiently confused that they would wander home promptly and consider this all a dream by morning...hopefully no one had seen them vanish from their prior locations when they'd been sucked into the dirty little room as if by Portkey. Finally, she banished the pile of assorted medicinal substances, both magical and Muggle. She couldn't wait to find out who had done all this. Mab was going to either go into some sort of Nirvana or have an apoplexy, depending on whether the creature showing this much power was Fairy kin or another type of magical creature.

She launched into her standard speech as she looked around the room for the source of the magic. "I'm Tarty, a recruiter for the International Fellowship of Fairy Godmothers and related Do-Gooding Beings. We detected your use of our sort of magic and I was sent here to find out who was using it, and invite you to join the Fellowship."

"Fuck invitations! My master needs help!"

Tarty looked around wildly for several seconds before locating the speaker, perched on the fallen wizard's chest. "Wait... you're...you're a Jarvey!" the fairy exclaimed, amazed.

"And you're fucking observant," the little silver Jarvey snarled miserably. "Now that we've established our identities, care to tell me what the hell you're doing here?"

"You were trying to save him...and you did all that?" Tarty asked in awe.

"For all the fucking good it did," she answered mournfully. "Don't even know how the hell I did it."

"We can teach you," said Tarty, regaining her equilibrium. Non-fairy or not, this one was a find and a half. "I don't think we've ever had a Jarvey work for us before, but if this is an example of what you can do, then you're definitely in. What was your name again?"

"I'm Reggie, and I still don't know who the fuck you are. And what am I supposed to be 'in,' again?"

"In the Fellowship...I already mentioned it, pay attention. You'll be trained to use your magic to help others, the way you tried to help this elderly wizard..."

"...He was my master, Humphrey W. Fletcher!" Reggie interrupted.

"...and eventually, you'll become a Fairy God...um, Jarvey."

"Will I be able to make him better?" she asked hopefully.

Tarty shook her head, looking at the innocent little silver face with sorrowful eyes. "Sorry, honey. Death is beyond fixing, even for the most powerful Fairy Godmothers ever. But you can heal some mighty sick people, and soothe some awful hurts with your power. You can help people in some pretty remarkable ways, if you come with me and learn to use it." The little winged creature patted Reggie on the shoulder. "If it's any consolation at all, your master wasn't a day under 160 years old. Even under ideal conditions, with the best medical care and everything, it's unlikely that he would have lived too much longer."

Tarty decided that she could wait a bit for the Jarvey's answer. Losing someone you loved enough to move heaven and earth for (almost literally) was plenty of shock. Learning about the whole Fairy Godmother thing would take a bit more adjusting. It wouldn't do to have a promising recruit go 'round the twist.

"He was good to me, you know."

"I believe it. And you were good to him. Look at how peaceful his face is."

Reggie slumped beside her dead master, saddened that she had somehow managed to put him on the floor. It seemed undignified. She patted his cheek again with her paw, though the gesture was without hope this time. He was too relaxed for sleep, and was slowly cooling; the longer she stayed, the colder he would become. It wouldn't help to watch him stiffen in death. There was nothing more she could do for him.

All her life, she'd been doing things for others. Fletcher had explained how she'd probably helped put food on the table for the first wizards who ever sold her, and that her price had bought Trainer a sort of freedom she would never know. For almost five years, she'd kept her master's body and soul together.

Well, that soul had sailed now. She could leave, if she chose... but for what? To scrounge Knockturn Alley for scraps until she was trapped and sold again, possibly to a much less kind master than Fletcher? Or perhaps magic could find a way around her underdeveloped body, and she would be made to bear litter after litter of kits, only to see them sold away...

"That's the problem with being an educated Jarvey," she said under her breath, reflecting that decision-making was probably easier if you didn't have much of a brain with which to decide. Less successful...but definitely easier.

Tarty cocked her head curiously at the beast, but said nothing.

"Help me put him on the bed? It's bloody wrong to leave him on the floor like this."

The fairy obliged, drawing a wand that resembled a hatpin and floating Humphrey gently to the bed. Reggie pulled a patched coverlet over him. With her sharp little teeth dragging one corner and Tarty's magic guiding the other, they made a neat job of it. He almost appeared to be sleeping. Reggie smoothed his hair once more before slinking to the floor. She let her tail thump listlessly on the last Muggle journal she'd scrounged before they'd taken to hiding. Humph had always been a good sport about reading to her from those things, indulging her taste for science that had developed in long-ago library trips with Toussaint. Never mind that the aged entertainer hadn't a clue what 'science' was.

"Oi, Tarty...what's this magic I'm supposed to have used?" she asked, trying to feel interested in the answer. Surprised to find that she was, at least a little.

"Even we're not entirely sure what it is. But we've been able to make it work. And it has something to do with love."

Reggie thought of the little boy who had let her gnaw his fingers for comfort and the old man who had said he was sorry. She thought of huddling with Toussaint for warmth and telling jokes to try to cheer up Gramma. She thought of all the evenings she'd spent with Humphrey, making a glass of Firewhisky last for hours as they relived his glory days and she finally soothed him to sleep with a sonnet. She was a beast, born and bred to serve humans. She was good at it. It gave her a certain sense of satisfaction. But that service had always had an element of compulsion before, regardless of how much she loved the humans she served.

With this power the fairy was talking about, service would be her choice. Her privilege. Her pride.

"Love?" she said thoughtfully. "Yeah... I can do that."

"That's not funny, Tarty."

"Do you see me laughing, Madam Mab?"

Reggie knew the thing behind the desk was no Madam. Madams wore the latest robes, low-cut but still classy, could talk politics like an MP and wine like a sommelier, and any man who stood in their way never knew what hit him. This thing was an oversized insect in sequined pince-nez. Although if pressed, Reggie might venture to bet that she knew a thing or two about bulldozing men.

"I know we've relaxed standards over the past few years, but it's a Jarvey! What's next? Clabberts?"

"Yes. A Jarvey who cared so much for someone other than herself that she pulled up enough magic to transport no fewer than seven humans to his aid when he was dying. Her pre-magic record is nothing to sneeze at either, from what I've gathered in her recruiting interview. I have no doubt everything in my report will be fully verifiable. You know darn well that 'any creature which displays the power and the aptitude for the job is eligible to join the fellowship.' Nowhere do the regs say 'except Jarveys.'"

Mab shook her head. "I can't put my name to this! What's more, I can't ask anyone to train a Jarvey. You want it in, you train it!"

"Fine. Do I keep my old desk, or do you need me to move?"

"What?"

"I'm wondering if you need an ear trumpet to go with those glasses. You said that if I wanted the Jarvey to join so badly, I'd have to train her myself. I'm asking if you want me to move my stuff back into the fieldwork office, because I'll need to be back in the field, getting the hang of things, if I'm to be any good as her master. I don't imagine it will take her very long to ace the coursework. So I'd better get started now if I'm to prepare a replacement in my old division and work out any kinks in my field technique before I start training her."

"You're serious."

"As a heart attack."

"Fine. I wash my hands of it. If you can train the thing, I guess we have to hand it a tutu. If not, enjoy your new career as a Christmas tree decoration, Tarty, once you put the beast back where you found it."

If Reggie hadn't been so lost in awe at what Tarty had done for her, she would have come up with something much more elaborate than a distractedly muttered comment of 'puta' in response to Mab referring to her as 'it.'

"Mab, if she doesn't finish the basic coursework and get to the apprentice stage in less than a year, I'll personally bring you a Pansy Parfait straight from Oberon's in the Elysian Glade. But since she will, I'll expect you to fasten her apprentice tutu yourself, as a show of confidence in her abilities."

Mab laughed...not an especially pretty sound. "You're on. Now get out of my office and register that thing."

Still a little overcome, all Reggie could manage to say was, "Thanks, Tarty."

"Honey, I'm doing the whole fellowship a favor. I got faith in you. Besides, I miss helping folks, being in the thick of things. Your case was the first unique recruitment experience I've had in two decades. Made me realize how much I miss the unpredictability of fieldwork."

"What's with Mab, anyway?"

"Been in the office too long, away from the folks we're bound to help. I take it she had a bad experience...met someone who didn't believe in fairies or some such...in one of her last field assignments. Whatever century that was. She's kind of bitter about non-fairies getting into the Fellowship, too."

"Maybe she resents us non-fairies because of the whole not believing in fairies thing. People don't think you guys exist, and then other critters get to be Fairy God... Thingies," Reggie mused.

"See, that's part of what makes me think you'll be a gem in the service. You got interesting insights, kid."

Reggie shrugged. "It's just psychology."

"OK, here's the queue for the registration desk. Be careful what you say or you'll end up like the kid who's stuck with 'Erm...I' as his official name in the fellowship."

Two Bowtruckles and a nervous imp that was obviously hoping to be taken for a pixie later, the pixie at the desk was running its bored and slightly disgusted eye over Reggie.

"New recruit?"

"Obviously, you wanker."

Tarty gave her a warning look, and Reggie bit her tongue.

"Species?"

"Jarvey." As if you hadn't figured that out, arsewipe.

"Name?"

She toyed with the idea of answering Peluchita. But it had been so long ago... another lifetime, in which anyone had even referenced that name. And she wasn't that runt anymore.

"Regina P. Fletcher," she said proudly. "But call me Reggie."

"Regina Fletcher, a.k.a. Reggie" the clerk grumbled. "Next."

"I said Regina P. Fletcher!" she yelled. But the clerk, oblivious to her complaint, was already on to the next trainee in line. As she turned away, she muttered under her breath, "Stupid fucking wanker."

"Sorry about the name thing, kid," her soon-to-be Master Fairy Godmother said apologetically when they were clear of the queue. "But that's bureaucracy for you."

"It's okay, Tarty," she said, shrugging half of her slender body. "I don't guess it matters too much."

"What's the 'P.' stand for, anyway?" Tarty asked.

The Jarvey's voice was so soft that the fairy almost missed her answer. "Peluchita."

Tarty couldn't stop grinning.

"I knew it was going to be fun to watch Mab put your apprentice tutu on you when you finished your classes shy of the year. You know, you could have finished in seven months if you hadn't launched that campaign to 'modernize' the program."

"You're gloating, Tarty."

"Yup. Feels good, too."

"I still maintain those wankers need to get acquainted with the current century and work psychology into the curriculum." Reggie flicked her tail, producing a twist of sparkling blue mist. Tarty knew that the tail thing was yet another bee in Mab's bonnet...Reggie was not just the only Fairy God-Jarvey ever, but the only Fairy God-Thingy to use something other than a wand as a focus for her powers. The kid's unorthodox from the ground up, Tarty thought fondly.

"C'mon, Apprentice Fletcher. You can revolutionize the world of Fairy Godmothering later. Right now, you need to review the files for my next case so you know what you're looking at when you come with me tomorrow."

"Call me Reggie, or you're gonna be picking your tutu out of your ear, Master Tarty."

"OK, I'm thinking we need to review Fairy Godmother etiquette before we study the file..."

Tarty still thought it was a damn shame that they hadn't promoted Reggie to Journeywoman, First Class, right out of the gate. Granted, her Apprentice's Journeywoman project had been unorthodox, to say the least. But that was Reggie. And it was pure malice on Mab's part that had kept her a Journeywoman, Second Class, for over ten years. Tarty sighed.

Ah, well. At least it means she checks in with me once in a while. It's nice to get the lowdown on the latest case straight from the Jarvey's mouth, profanity and all.

"How's my favorite Fairy God-Jarvey today?"

"Still the only Fairy God-Jarvey, you silly sod. How's my favorite permanently demoted Fairy Godmother?"

"Still grateful that you got me out of the bloody recruitment department and away from having to respond to that damned alarm during dinner."

"Yeah, poor Ashrowan looked a right pillock, choking on a woodlouse when he got the call at lunch yesterday. Er... speaking of gratitude... "

"Great segue into asking for a favor," Tarty said with a grin.

Reggie snorted a little. "Tarty, I need a leave of absence for a personal project. I'd like to help some people I used to know. I know it's not an assignment, but they're great folks, and..."

"Relax, kid. You have a week...and this file might come in handy."

Reggie paged through the file, at times murmuring ('I'd forgotten his name'), at times smiling mistily, at times letting her mouth fall open in amazement. "I'm not even going to ask how you knew."

"Kid, I took your recruitment interview. I was your Master for over three years. I'd like to be able to claim I've been your friend for the last dozen years. It didn't take a scientist of any kind to figure out that you would want to get back to your roots one of these days. I'm only wondering why you didn't ask sooner."

"You give yourself too damn little credit, Tarty. And would you believe that I was kind of afraid of what I might find?"

Tarty understood. It was pretty clear that Reggie had been resigned to discovering that her mother was dead; Reggie had outlived her mother's generation readily under the influence of fairy magic, just as she would easily outlive her peers...and their great-grand offspring. The shock on the Jarvey's face had been plain, though, when she read that Gramma had died the same night as the fateful sale. Though all she said was, "You got a plan yet?"

"Actually, yeah."

"Good. Write it up, but I'm not going to read it until it's all over. I'm going to observe, but not interfere. Consider this a dry run for your Journeywoman, First Class project, since no one's officially assigned to these two. Though based on what's in that file, I think I can fix it with Pooky after the fact."

"You're too good to me, Tarty."

"It's the least I could do for the best Apprentice I ever had."

"Hey, Tarty...you weren't shitting me when you said you'd like to claim me as a friend, were you?"

"I don't bullshit."

"I know. And... you haven't been a friend. You've been like me own mum." Reggie bumped her whiskers against Tarty's face in a Jarvey-style hug and whisked out to her unofficial assignment.

When Journeyman Blueleaf came to inquire about a missing case file half an hour later, Tarty was still sniffling.

"Master Tarty? Is something wrong?" the pixie asked, his trademark gentle concern plain in his voice.

"No, kid... just... just a little emotional today, that's all."

Blueleaf brought her tea, anyway.

Author's Notes:

If Mab ever has access to a Spanish/English dictionary, she would be even more irked that Reggie had called her a puta (whore).

Tarty the tough-talking Fairy Godmother sort of quotes 'The Blues Brothers.' ('Bullshit? I don't bullshit!')

Next up: The Epilogue. Reggie has a little more of her family to take care of before she moves on.