Chapter 2: The Portkey
There are several things in the world that annoy me (waiting in lines is killer, I swear...) and being woken up by chirping birds is near the top of the list. Now while I can enjoy their musical selections like any other person, there's just something about being dragged from something I enjoy for more to listen to them that really irks me. This particular day though, I'd take the feathered opera over the strange nightmare that jerked me awake. Because birds and other external forces come from the physical world, they can be controlled and countered to keep from having fallen prey to their influence. Nightmares are different though. They take place in your mind where only your fears and frustrations can manifest themselves as the imagined horrors that keep you from maintaining mental wellbeing; not to mention a good night's sleep.
When I sat up in bed, I was breathing fast and dripping with sweat. Whatever had me gripped in fear, I couldn't remember. Only the faint images of a large snake and a pudgy man with beady eyes lingered in my mind. My heart was thumping wildly and I could swear that if I listened closely, I'd hear its beat outside my chest. I fell back onto my pillows and lay there until my breathing evened and my heart slowed. Once it did, I glanced at the alarm clock beside my bed. The hour it read was so ugly, I yanked the blankets off me and stood up angrily. I knew that I wasn't going back to sleep, not with the odd feelings that accompanied the dream.
I walked over to the balcony doors and opened them with more force than was necessary. I was stilled covered in a thin film of sweat so when I stepped out onto the cold cement, the cool air that met my bare skin made me shiver momentarily (and no, I don't sleep naked I'll have you know. I sleep with pajama pants on thank you very much.) Despite the cool air, I walked over to the railing, leaned against it and looked down five stories. People were moving about on the streets, illuminated by the lamps; most likely heading home from the pub.
Though I couldn't remember anything other than the snake and beady eyed man, I knew there was a lot missing to have caused me to bolt awake in fear. As I'm not particularly afraid of snakes unless they want to kill me, I knew it wasn't the cause of my fear and the man didn't seem to pose any kind of threat that I could perceive. He held an air of familiarity around him that confused me as I couldn't recall ever having met the man. I shook my hair out of my eyes, trying to convince myself that I could shake away the strange feelings just as easily.
Dismissing the dream for the time being I continued to watch the people below me, letting my mind wander to the day ahead of me for a minute more before a large eagle owl swooped into my view. It landed on the railing next to me and it was then that I noticed the thick envelope attached to its leg. I recognized the bird but didn't move to remove the letter as this particular owl has a nasty habit of biting those who have the audacity of making it wait for more than two seconds. Seeing the owl clicking its beak did nothing to improve my apprehension about the mood of the owl. Figuring I better just get this over with, I started to untie the letter from it's leg as the owl began to fidget in annoyance. As expected, once the letter was removed, the owl flew off with a chunk of my skin. Of course I'm exaggerating when I say 'chunk' but this bite was more painful than any I had ever received from it. I held my hand my to pajama bottoms to stem the blood flow and wondered what couldn't wait until a more sane owl was back from hunting. Deciding that I wanted to know what warranted the skin removal of my knuckle, I ripped open the envelope and pulled the parchment out.
Good morning Harry,
I'm sorry about the bite you've surely sustained but this couldn't wait. I was just informed that the press has caught wind that the owner of EBI will be attending the World Cup. I've restrained them to outside the top box but they will most likely do what they can to get in. I'm only warning you so that you aren't surprised with the extra security. If you prepare a statement about your need for privacy I can happily deliver it in a delightfully red envelope.
See you soon,
Perry
I groaned once I was finished reading the letter as I had an even longer day ahead of me that I knew was going to suck on so many levels. I know you're confused so allow me to indulge you.
When I turned thirteen, Mr. Flamel thought it would be beneficial if I began to study alchemy. He said that since Elementals already have an affinity for the elements, alchemy is easier to study, which is how he came to create the sorcerer's stone. With that explanation, he gave me various texts to translate and experiment with. My first major discovery came with the transmutation of lead into iron. I eventually combined the things I learned from alchemy with my Elemental powers. I began to form combinations of the elements and a range of spells to yield extremely interesting results. In this case, I used levitation and banishing spells to bind the elements into the materials usually reserved for broom cores. Though not always successful, I called this first prototype the Shadowspeare. It harnessed the essence of all four elements which made the bond formed between the spells and elements extremely dangerous and unstable for replication so only one of them is in existence and in my possession.
The experimentations after the Shadowspeare focused on reigning in one element into broom cores. I started with fire as that's the easiest for me to control and it took nearly four months to make the cores stable enough for replication and mass production. Because the cores are very unstable if broken or damaged in any way, I had to place them inside titanium plated shells reinforced by anti-breakage spells weaved into the metal and the wood that encased the shell. Over the wood is a highly complex coating of anti-breakage spells and containment charms, which makes the brooms resistant to damage. If, by an extremely rare chance, a core were to break, the explosion it created would be equal to one half of the force of an atomic bomb detonation. I know this from experience though I had been manipulating the air molecules in my testing site to form a bubble around the explosion to keep it isolated within the shield. The entire process for making the brooms took nearly a year and once they were ready for the market, I dubbed my fun little experiment the Firebolt.
Because the binding spells that surround the wood and the core were so thick, it kept my competitors from stripping the brooms and extracting the cores from the cases. This, of course, created quite the controversy among the wizarding world as not only was the process of production kept secret but so was my identity. I was granted a business license by the French Minister of Magic, Perry Bodin, in exchange for the second edition of every broom I created under the company Elemental Brooms, Inc. As Minister Bodin is a good friend of Mr. Flamel's, he granted me citizenship to France and was able to get my acceptance to the Academy with no questions asked. He's fully aware of my true identity and works hard to maintain the secrecy of my company. Though it's not always easy, Minister Bodin has done a great job of keeping the press from discovering the identity of the head of EBI. The reasons for the secrecy shouldn't be that hard to figure out but I'll put it in simple terms: If the world were to discover that I was the creator of the brooms, the media I'd receive would more than likely blow my cover as Harry Phoenix and as much as I want the Potters to be exposed for the selfish arses they are, I'd rather not have anything to do with them.
Anyways, as I'm really the only one who can create the brooms it's pretty much a one man show and orders have to be placed in advance. I'm currently lining up a Special Edition Firebolt, the Emberbolt, that uses more energy of the element and only fifty are set to be produced which will coincide with the release of the Thunderbolt, which harnesses the element of air. Hopefully this has brought you up to speed because I can only shower for so long...
I stepped out of the bathroom with a cloud of steam with a towel around my waist and my hair spiking in all directions, despite that it was wet. I walked over to my closet and pulled out a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black hooded sweatshirt. I've been told that the complexity of my wardrobe is absolutely stunning but I'd rather keeps things simple by owning the least amount of different articles possible which is the reason I own only jeans and t-shirts. Sure I have sweatshirts and button down long sleeves but other than those, I don't stray too far in my choices. Pulling on my selections, I used the towel to dry my hair a bit more before running my fingers through the strands. Satisfied that my hair was mussed enough, I exited my room and walked down the hallway of my apartment to the stairs. Technically, it's called a penthouse but really, who pays attention to technicalities? Another thing I'd take note of mentioning is that this apartment is mine, meaning that I live alone. This past summer Nic had decided that I was old enough to live by myself so I found an apartment in the first arondissement. That's neighborhood to those of you who are unfamiliar with Paris.
Anyways, I descended the stairs and entered the kitchen, the lights snapped on automatically overhead. Call me a Muggle if you must, but I'd rather have light that came from a lamp than from a candle. Perhaps it's because of the years that I spent in the Muggle world but when it comes to technology and things of the like, I take a more modern approach than other wizards. I pulled a bowl from the cupboard and poured myself some cereal. Like my clothing, I like to keep the foods I eat simple which is why I'd choose cold cereal over pancakes and eggs any day. It's not that I don't like those things, it's just that I prefer not to have them as the first thing I consume in a day. I finished my cereal and cleared my dishes from the table before heading towards the study. My apartment was larger than the others this building housed, mainly because it was on the top two floors but also because of the enlargement charms that were on many of the rooms. The study had been one of the rooms that was enlarged, several times in fact. In the corner on a long desk stood my computer. You can call me a Muggle all day if you feel the need.
Last week I had been shopping in a bookstore and came across a book titled Ancient Magic: Magic from Before the Dawn of Time? From the skimming I had done in the store, the book explained how the very first wizards came to be and even talked about spells that involved the elements. Of course I figured it warranted further attention and there wasn't any better time to do so than now. By the time I was halfway through the book, the sun had risen significantly, changing the sky from inky black to pinkish orange. I closed the book and yawned from having woken up much earlier than I was used to. I wandered over to my computer and booted the system up. Opening the music sharing program I had downloaded ages ago, I searched for random songs until my I heard my cell phone ringing upstairs.
I pulled out my wand and summoned the phone to me. Before it had reached me though, my wand spit out some angry looking sparks. That being the first time I had ever seen my wand do that, I broke the charm and heard my phone crash onto the floor. I examined the wand but didn't see anything changed about it so I stuck it in my pocket and went to get my phone. It had stopped ringing by the time I got there but the ever persistent caller had dialed me again. The name on the screen said Gabrielle so I answered.
"Hey you," I said, stifling a yawn.
"Wow... This is kind of surprising. I was expecting to have to call you at least ten times before you woke up," Gabrielle said with a bit of a laugh. I smiled.
"What's even more surprising is that I've been up for hours now."
"Too excited about the World Cup I imagine," she replied in her accented voice.
"Something like that," I said evasively. Gabrielle was a firm believer in dream interpretation and as much as I was confused about my dream, I wasn't ready to listen to how my subconscious mind was sending me messages about things I wasn't ready to deal with.
"Well... Considering that you're up already, my wake up call is a little pointless."
"Just a little," I teased.
"Yeah yeah. Daddy says we'll be over in an hour to take the portkey from the Louvre to the stadium. See you then?" I gave her the affirmative with a 'Yes ma'am' before she called me a prat and hung up. I closed the phone and slipped it into my front pocket. I sat on my bed and leaned onto the pillows. Gabrielle Delacour. Where do I start? My relationship with her is a little complicated so bear with me.
I met Gabrielle during my first year at the Academy and since then, we've been pretty much attached at the hip. We're not dating, though everyone thinks we are, but there is mutual interest. She seems to hold all of the qualities I'd need in a girl; someone with the perfect balance of submissiveness and dominance. They've got to be able to tell me no at times, let me be in control at others, and have the wisdom to know the difference when to do so. I have to respect them enough to let them argue with me and be fine five minutes later. They have to have the patience to deal with my stubbornness as well as an adventurous attitude to go along with any crazy scheme I may come up with. All in all, Gabrielle is the perfect person for me but I can't seem to make myself get involved with her. Gabrielle says I have 'commitment issues' and I'll be the first to admit that she's right; just don't tell her that because she'll never let me hear the end of it. Anyways, my problem with commitment is probably the result of being pushed off onto others, first with the Potters and then with my relatives. You would think that because I acknowledge that I have issues, I'd be able to overcome them. While that's true, it's also true that just because you understand the structure of your mentality, doesn't mean you have the ability to rebuild it. I told you it's complicated.
Sitting up in bed, I walked over to the mirror and looked myself over. My dark hair was still sticking up in all directions, just as I liked it, and my green eyes didn't hold any tell-tale signs of tiredness. I glanced over the rest of my appearance and smiled. Fate may have given my brother a family, but she definitely gave me the looks and to those of you who say I have a bit of childish vanity, I have two words for you: suck it.
I exited my room and went back to the study to transfer the music I had downloaded to my iPod. It took all of three minutes before I disconnected the device, slipped it into my pocket, and headed towards my living room, book in hand. I flopped onto the couch and resumed my reading, this time with a complementary soundtrack to accompany the words. I was halfway through a chapter on the difference of fire and water when used in spells when lime green flames shot out of my fireplace and a blond haired witch fell out with a thump. I pulled the headphones out of my ears and looked at Gabrielle with a raised eyebrow. She usually walked with grace and was never one for clumsiness so seeing her fall out of the fireplace was really odd. Gabrielle stood up and brushed her clothes off. She turned and noticed me one the couch, eyebrow still cocked.
"A log shifted as I was leaving and caught on my shoe," she said indignantly.
"Right..."
Gabrielle moved over to the couch just as the fireplace lit up once more to deposit Mr. Delacour into my living room in a much more dignified way. Gabrielle's father was a plump little man with a small dark beard. He had dark skin that had tanned with an excess of sunlight and his eyes were just as dark as his hair. He was a contrast to the rest of his family who were tall, blond, and blue eyed. He was usually dressed in varying dark shades of wizard robes but today he wore a Muggle business suit, odd attire for a sporting match. Mr. Delacour is the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation for the French ministry so I could only assume that he had errands to attend to before coming to the World Cup.
I placed my book on the coffee table and stood up to greet Mr. Delacour. I offered my hand to him, which he gripped firmly.
"Harry, my dear boy. It's been quite awhile since we've seen each other. How are you?" he asked, his voice held a rough French accent.
"I'm great, sir. I trust you're well? How's Apolline?"
"She's fine, just fine. Been baking up a storm this week so I hope you visit sometime."
"Yes sir. I'll be sure to do that."
"Come on! We don't want to be late for the portkey!" Gabrielle interrupted, pulling on my arm.
I laughed. "The portkey doesn't leave for a half hour. We've got plenty of time.''
"Well it's better to be early than late Harry Phoenix! Something you'd do well to remember for the next semester of school. You were late how many times in one month? Fourteen?" she replied impatiently.
"Twelve," I corrected, avoiding Mr. Delacour's gaze. He holds a special place on his pet peeve list for tardiness. I avoided further criticism by going upstairs to retrieve my shoes. Once the party of three were on the way towards the Louvre Museum, which was only a few minutes from my apartment, a small smile played on my lips as I looked around me. One of the things that I absolutely love about living in the heart of Paris is the structure of the buildings that surround my apartment. Standing out on my balcony, I have a view of most of the rooftops in the arrondissement. Walking the streets however, I'm able to see the height of each building and the various styles of architecture. Don't ask me to identify these styles though. Architectural design is so not my strongest field.
We reached the museum without much hassle and the only trouble we encountered was an overly aggressive bicycle courier with a deadline to meet. Because of the early hour, the museum was still closed and the surrounding sidewalks were bare of pedestrians though standing near the front doors of the amazingly designed museum was a small crowd of six, none of whom I recognized though I knew they were wizards. We milled around with the others, making small talk about the upcoming match: Ireland was the favorite for the win in this crowd. Nearly twenty minutes had passed with me teasing Gabrielle on our early arrival and her defending her position. In that time, five more had been added to our number: two elderly men and a trio of witches that I swore were triplets despite Gabrielle's insistence that I was wrong.
"Gather 'round everyone," a man with floral print shirt on said. In his hands was an old newspaper with crumpled edges and a smearing of mud along the front page. Apparently this was our portkey and I figured the man holding it must be the ministry representative escorting us to the stadium. I didn't think an escort was necessary but Mr. Delacour had explained that it was due our location. Leaving a magical object in a highly populated Muggle area would be just asking for trouble, especially if a Muggle were to pick the portkey up or move it to another area. The crowd jostled until everyone was within reach of the portkey. The man checked his watch and nodded his head, signaling that everyone should touch the portkey. "Five, four, three, two... one."
There was a jerk from behind my back, almost like someone had tied a rope around me and pulled with the intention of yanking me off my feet. I was flying through the air in a swirl of color with my finger still attached to the shovel. My hair was being blown in all directions by a fierce, howling wind until my feet slammed into the ground. Gabrielle nearly fell to the ground with the force of the landing but I held her steady and the portkey fell with a light crinkling of the pages. I looked around me, taking in the woods and the barren field that surrounded until a voice rang out from behind me.
"Three past five from Louvre Museum."
A/N: Hope you loved this chapter. I got it out a lot faster than I had anticipated. Remember to review and check out my profile! There's always information on the story there: fun facts, replies to reviews, etc. The next chapter should be up soon. :)
