Title: Harry Potter and The Keening
Summary: Arthur W. Kirkland, a well known fatalogist finds himself in a peculiar situation after saving a faerie, only to be swept into the world of international crime, love by any other name, and the teaching of ingrates.
Warnings: Matthew abuse, mild cussing, bad Italian from a translator, and um, illegal activity.
Rating: PG for now, the minute I introduce Francis it will probably go up though.
Notes: Based off Dakt's - .com/ - Harry Potter and the Extremely British Professor. This based (mostly) off her head cannon, though a lot of it is no doubt not something she even considered, but that's okay.
Disclaimer: Not mine, at all, premise belongs to Dakt37, known and beloved characters belong to their various networks and creators. The few OCs which appear are mine, but if for some reason you wish to play with them, ask and you shall receive.
Arthur quickly made his way down the streets of Monte Carlo, head bowed and hands shoved into his trouser pockets, ignoring the happy chatter all around him, remembering to keep off the grass. Sunlight hit the white buildings at an angle, reflecting it back into the Brits eyes, and he resisted the urge to swear. Daring to look up, Arthur was relieved to note the Place d'Armes ahead, and he quickly jogged across the intersection, ignoring the few cars on the road and, with an expertise born of a childhood in London, dodged the people waiting in line for pizza.
"Excuse me, sorry," he muttered as he bumped into a tall blond man, not stopping to see if the apology was accepted. The blond man nodded absently, not looking up, and continued to study the red tiles of the plaza.
Arthur came to stop just beside a fountain, scanning his surroundings, green eyes focused, his hangover forgotten. Buildings lined his the plaza to his left, with a longer, continuous structure directly in front of him. On the other two sides were roads, one of which he crossed. The plaza was largely empty, a couple was perched on the fountain, cooing at each other in French, and an older man was sweeping a stoop to his left.
Aggravation set in, and one of Arthur's hands came up to message the bridge of his pale nose. Entrances to the black market, appropriately named La Halle Variable, or the Shifting Market, was hard to track. In fact, it was nigh impossible to track, as it was rarely in one place for long. Monaco hosted it often enough that it was one of the safer bets for finding it. Arthur had only caught wind of it by chance while staying in Nice. Now, Arthur was tasked with the job of finding the entrance. Narrowing it down to the Place d'Armes had been hard enough but now, now it was a whole new game.
Even as this thought was making itself known to Arthur, he spotted a dark gap, just behind a tree at the inner corner of the plaza. Resisting the urge to sigh in relief the Englishman quickly made his way over to it and, as surreptitiously as one can dart behind a tree in the middle of an extremely exposed area, squeezed his way into the dark space.
It was an alley way, an exceptionally clean one as far as alley ways go, and open ended at that. Ignoring the other end Arthur looked down, examining the ground. Almost immediately a long chink in the hard rock caught his attention, squatting down he tugged out a long pale wand, dragging the tip lightly along the uniform crack. Quickly the crack flashed a series of colours, and a series of other uniform cracks appeared.
"Red, blue, orange, blue, yellow," the wizard muttered, standing up. Quietly, he tapped the end of the second crack, then the fourth, the first, the fourth and lastly the third. To his left, a small door appeared as the cracks faded, and he slipped into the dark opening.
In the plaza, the tall blond man spotted a muted flash of yellow to his right, and he turned, spotting the dark space behind the tree. Hard blue eyes narrowed, and he quickly made his way to the space. Looking in his face morphed into grim satisfaction, and he smiled humorlessly.
He'd found it.
La Halle was not the grim looking set up most imagined when told about it. Like any market, it's buyers and sellers were loud and dressed in an eclectic manner. Tables were layered with wares, ranging from live animals to magic carpets to tampered with Quidditch gear. Arthur made his way through the mess of stalls offering illegal transportation, another group with some very, very nasty cursed objects on display and into what was lovingly dubbed The Menagerie.
Arthur eyed the various wares, hands clenching in his pockets, noting with interest the stall holding three Augureys, two Fwoopers and several jars labelled 'Banshee screams'. The stall owner, a deceptively kind looking woman gave him a dimpled smile, gesturing to the Augurey.
"Avez vous une invasion de doxie?" she asked, blue eyes keen. Arthur shook his head, not actually understanding the question, and gave her a small smile. She shrugged at that, picking up her abandoned magazine, turning back to it. Arthur quickly honed in on his target, making his way past three more stalls before coming to a crowded table.
Cages, wrought in iron, lined the large table, small figures dashing themselves against the bars. Chitter filled Arthur's ears as he crouched down, the cries of "hungry, hungry," making his heart twist. The fairies in the cage were haggard looking, cramped in with one another. There were a full seven cages of them, all filled with the simple minded creatures. The man behind the table was young, younger than most, and he watched Arthur with a grin.
"Looking for potions ingredients?" he asked, and Arthur nodded, shoving his disgust to the side.
"As a matter of fact," he started, cutting himself off quickly when he noticed the cage on the far end. It was slightly separate from the other cages and near the back of the table, explaining why he hadn't noticed it before. This cage was smaller than the others, and held only one being in it. The merchant followed his stare, another grin fixing itself on his face.
"Forest fairy," he told the shocked Englishman brightly, "very rare, a hundred galleons." Arthur's heart sank at that, he only had eighty, and he took in the sight of the tiny being. It looked to be blond, and probably male, and he was shaking, tiny bruises on its arms and chest. His wings, which were no doubt meant to be a beautiful black and orange, were currently a sickly grey and yellow mixture, the right one slightly shredded at the ends.
Seeing a very, very rare opportunity, Arthur put on his best rich bastard face and stood up completely. "You," he said coldly, "must have mistaken me for an idiot this is not a forest fairy of any sort, the marking are all wrong and besides," he pointed to the tiny creature and it's battered wing, "it's damaged. I can find much better sources for fairies than charlatans like you young man and I will not be swindled, I can assure you others will know of this attempted duping, and -" the young man stopped him with a panicked flail, looking around.
"Okay, okay," he muttered, face going bright red, "look, I didn't make the prices, I'm an apprentice, but, I could, maybe cut you a deal," he licked his lips, obviously worried about this, "just, don't go smearing our name, alright." Arthur's features stayed schooled into a look of cold superiority, but he nodded.
"We'll see."
"Eighty-five galleons," he offered and Arthur almost danced in joy.
"Sixty," he said instead and the young man spluttered.
"Wha-no just," he took a deep breath, "eighty."
"Sixty five," Arthur countered, green eyes narrow. Brown eyes narrowed at him in response, and the young man shifted slightly.
"Seventy five, last offer," he said with a surprising amount of conviction and Arthur hesitated, to allow suspense.
"Throw in a cage cover and we have a deal," he told the seller. In response, an off white piece of fabric was pulled almost out of thin air and covered the iron cage. Silently, Arthur handed over his money, accepting the cage in exchange. "Pleasure doing business with you" he said coolly, and the young man nodded miserably.
"Nonno sta andando a uccidere me," he muttered, and Arthur ignored him, carefully caring the cage out the nearest door. The light off of the Port de Fontvielle was very bright at two in the afternoon, and Arthur swore vigorously as it struck his eyes, which had just become accustomed to the dim light of La Halle.
"Bloody hell," he muttered, clutching the cage to his chest, "I hate Monaco." Inside the cage, the occupant jerked awake by the loud swearing curled himself even tighter into a ball, tears welling in violet eyes as he fought back sobs. What would happen to him now?
Translations/More Notes
Nonno sta andando a uccidere me - Grandfather is going to kill me (this is from a translator, sorry)
Avez-vous une invasion de doxie? - Do you have a doxy infestation? (1. Augreys eat faeries 2. what is the French word used for doxy in the novels?)
Time frame wise, this is 2002, and there WILL be HP people involved rather directly.
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