Chapter III – Coming Home
It took Harry only seconds to realize that he was once back in good old England. His air plane had landed at Heathrow Airport on the morning of December the 18th and once his feet touched english soil again he was greeted with typical winter weather. Thick rain drops splashed against the street ground and he was tempted to use a waterproof charm, but instead opted for buying a cheap umbrella in one of the souvenir shops at the airport. The pink umbrella clashed horribly with his dark blue suite and cloak, but at least it kept him dry until he reached a taxi. He ordered the cab driver to bring him to the Sheraton Hotel and leaned back against the too soft seat while watching the scenery.
It took him nearly half an hour to reach his destination and after he had paid the taxi driver he underwent a very fast check-in at the Sheraton. As he had already booked the hotel from the States via internet there was not much left to do except for tipping the chambermaid. Once he had settled in and turned on the television for his first dose of english muggle news for nearly three years, he draw his wand and unshrunk his luggage. He mused what to do next as there were only three things left to do for him today. He could either go for the hotels restaurant and have a fast breakfast or he could opt for a nice and neat shower followed by a nap or he could do the sensible thing and call Hermione in Australia to tell her that he had safely arrived back home. Grudgingly he searched the pockets of his discarded cloak for his cell phone, already deciding that he would keep the call as short as possible, because a warm shower seemed so much more appreciating.
He had to wait some seconds until he heard Hermiones voice.
"Yes, hello?"
"Hermione? It's me, Harry", he answered.
"Harry! So nice to hear from you! Have you safely made your way back to England? Was your plane on schedule? How is the weather?", came the rapid fire questions from his best and oldest friend.
"Keep cool Hermione, everything was fine. Had some trouble with the weather, but nothing serious. It's heavily raining here, but what do you expect?"
"Well Harry, if you don't like it, just hop onto the next plane and visit me here. We could walk down to the beach and enjoy an ice cream. How does a temperature of 29 degrees sound to you?"
Harry could practically hear her giggling at the thought of him caught with the horrible weather while she was probably wearing the shortest skirt she had in her wardrobe.
"I'll speak to you in six months dear, by then the tides should have turned around", he smiled into the cell phone.
"Too true Harry, too true", she answered him. "Do you already know what is next on your agenda?"
"You mean except a hot shower and something to eat? Well, I'll need to stop by Gringotts during the next days to check my properties for something to live in as well as a short trip to Barclays for some informations about my non-magical investments. Then I plan to visit McGonagall and afterwards a trip to the ministry to renew my apparation license. And last, but not least, I plan to visit some friends, mainly Neville and if I can catch her – Luna."
"That sounds very nice Harry, I wish I could do the same, but I probably will be caught here for another year, maybe two before I can even think of coming back to England."
"So long Hermione? Didn't you say that it would be possible to return sooner?"
He heard her sigh although she was literally thousands of miles away.
"I'm sorry Harry, but things aren't very positive right now."
"What happened Hermione? Can I help?"
"I'm sure you could, but I would decline your help and you know it", she said. "I can only study half-time at the moment as my parents need my help in their dentist practice and I need to work for my living. Even worse, it turned out that my last semester assignment didn't fulfil my professors standards and I have to do it again."
"A professor rejected your assignment? You don't want me to believe that, do you?", he asked.
"Well, I've studied the animagus transformations for the last semester and wrote an first class essay about the principles. My professor, Dr. Stone, said it was by far one of the best theoretical writings he ever read about the subject, but without me being able to at least perform the first practical steps of becoming an animagus, it's completely worthless. So, I'm stuck with the topic for at least another half a year until I manage to complete the visualization process to the point where I know what kind of animal I would be."
Harry shuddered. He himself had thought of becoming an animagus, but after his first steps into the material he had opted against it. Too much work, too complicated. So he could understand her perfectly. "Could Minerva be of any help, Hermione? I could contact her."
"I've already contacted her myself Harry. And she helped a lot. But in a nutshell she said that it could take between days and decades to complete the first steps depending on your inherent magical ability for personal transformations. Magical power or skill doesn't help you at all, either you have the instincts to transform or you haven't. And if the later is the case you need years of practice to overcome the first obstacles in the process. In short – I have to work it out myself."
"Holy shit, Hermione. That doesn't sound too good. Is everything else at least in order? Or do you suffer from more problems?"
"Only the usual ones Harry that you already know of, nothing special", she sighed.
"Hermione, please listen to me. Please. If you have money issues, I can help out, you know I would and it wouldn't harm me."
"No, Harry. Thanks for the offer, once again. But it was me who brought my parents into their current situation and it will be me who will solve the problems. Not you. Although I'm very grateful for your offer and if things turn out to be unsolvable I will come back to you. But not now. I know I can do this on my own."
"Okay, Hermione, okay. But if you ever need something you only need to call, you know this,right?"
"Sure Harry, but now I need to hurry, my job in the bar begins in twenty-five minutes."
"Thanks for speaking to me Hermione, I love you."
"Love you too, Harry, bye!"
"Bye Hermione", he said, but by the time the last syllable was out she had already cut the line.
Harry sighed once again and turned his attention to the bathroom. He knew it would be a long shower, probably very hot with a lot to think about. He slowly undressed and turned the shower on. Feeling the first drops of hot water on his skin was simply relaxing and exactly what he needed now. Talking with Hermione always made him sad and the fact that she always refused his help made things even worse.
After the war things had rapidly gone worse for the so called brightest witch of her age. She had used her last money to book a flight to Perth, Australia to meet her parents and reverse the memory charm. If all had gone according to the plan, it would have been a happy family reunion that would have resulted in a return of the Granger family to London. But life was never fair, wasn't it? When Hermione had done the memory charm she had never thought of the consequences. Her parents had, as a result to the memory charm, sold everything they owned in England and moved to Australia. Well, that in itself wouldn't have been bad, but seeing that the memory charm forced them to move fast, they had gotten far less for their home and the practice than it had been worth. Harry knew the numbers by heart as Hermione had told them to him on more than one occasion. The Grangers practice sold for 200 thousand pounds and their home for nearly the same. But they had to pay the rest of their mortgage and some interests, leaving them only 320 thousand pounds. Yes, one could argue that this was a respectable amount of money, but it wasn't by far enough. When "Wendell" and "Monica Wilkins" had arrived in Australia they were offered to overtake a nice practice for the price of half a million pounds. As building a new practice from scratch would have been much more expensive, they decided to buy the already established one. This alone left some deep in depth, but on top of that came the small house that they bought. So, when the Wilkins had settled down, they were practically a quarter million pounds in the red numbers. Surely, they had a great income and their financial plan was sound, but what Hermione couldn't know at her age, these plans were always long-time. Nobody took a big credit for a house and intended to pay it off in just one year. So, when Hermione had arrived in Australia and reversed the memory charm she was convinced that her parents would go back with her, she would go to one of the most respectable wizard universities and everything would be fine. That dream turned out wrong when her parents told her in no uncertain terms, that they couldn't go back with such an enormous amount of liabilities. They offered Hermione to visit a public university for a muggle degree while at the same time taking a magical degree at distance university. But they had terms and conditions. First of all, Hermione would get a place at a flat-sharing-community to save costs, she would get herself a job to finance her studies and she would work two times a week for four hours in her parents practice as some kind of compensation for the chaos she had initiated. And so a very hard time had begun for Harry Potters long time friend.
After Harry had heard what had happened to her, he was more than willing to step into the breach and offered her all the money she would need. He had already suspected it and it turned out to be right – she declined. It was her mess and she was the one who would bring things back to order. Harry still had some problems with her decision. He had more money than was good for one person and Hermione had stood by him no matter what. He felt that he owed her a lot. But he also knew that if he insisted Hermione would be miffed beyond reason. Hell, her financial problems were a bloody joke compared to his own wealth, but he knew that every invention on his behalf would turn out wrong. After the war ended, one of his first missions sent him to Gringotts where some ultra-pissed goblins told him in no uncertain words to take his things and leave the bank. Harry wanted to argue, but the goblins told him that after breaking into the bank, they would never trust him again. The only reason why they allowed him to take his things was the defeat of Tom Riddle. And so Harry had transferred every galleon, every sickle and every knut to the first magical bank of Switzerland, the only bank in the world not run by goblins or their distant relatives, the dwarves. And that was the moment Harry discovered how rich he really was. Not only did he have his own vault, which in itself alone was more than half a million galleons, but he also had the Potter family vault, the Black family vault, Sirius personal vault, but he furthermore had inherited large amounts of money from Dumbledore and Snape of all people. To top it of, the ministry had awarded him not only with an order of Merlin, first class, but with a bounty of five million galleons for hunting down Lord Voldemort. So, below the line, he had more than 25 million galleons and more than 10 million pounds at his command. This sheer amount of money alone produced more than half a million pounds in interests per year after taxes. So, in other words – he had begged Hermione to let him take care of her financial problems, but although she always was very sweet and calm, her "no" was more than clear.
Harry turned the water off and noticed with satisfaction that his back muscles felt like jelly. That was exactly like they should feel and if he could get a nice English breakfast his day would be made. Well, some hours of sleep would also be nice, but he had bought a time-adapting potion for this purpose which would take care of this problem. While he scrubbed his back with the towel he tried to decide whether he should use the hotels own restaurant for breakfast or if he should venture into London to find something more traditional and appealing. In the end, his ingrained avarice took over and he opted for the hotel. After all, it was included in the price.
Six hours later, when he was near Piccadilly Circus for a short stroll into the town, his cell phone rang again. A short view on the display informed him that it was someone ringing that he had never heard of before. Furthermore, the callers number was suppressed, only the "external call" showed up. Harry clicked the answer button and spoke his name clearly into the phone.
"Is this Mister Harry Potter?", a voice he had never heard before asked him.
"That's what I just said, Sir. And who are you?"
"My name is Dennis Harrington and I'm the acting first secretary to her royal highness, queen Elizabeth II", answered the voice with just an hint of anger.
"Yeah sure", answered Harry, "and my mother was the last princess of china, so who are you?"
"I just told you, Mister Potter. This is an official call in the name of her majesty and you are..."
Harry simply clicked the "off" button on his phone. Another loony making joke calls. As if the personal secretary of the queen would call him! This was outrageous. Yes, he was famous no doubt. But he was famous in the magical world and not in the muggle world, so the palace had absolutely no reason to call him at all. And even if his fame would be a reason for someone in contact with the royal family they would have called him much earlier, namely the moment after he had defeated Tom Riddle. So, in a nutshell, it was absolutely clear that this guy was nothing more than a mislead kid wanting to speak with him. Although he wondered why someone else except for Hermione had his number.
Harry continued his walk along the streets of London and admired all the shops along the walkway. He was more than one time tempted to walk into a shop just to buy something, but he had never really cared for things without any personal attachments. The only things he went shopping for were clothes and that only when he needed new ones. Deep inside he knew that this was one of the traits that his aunt and uncle had ingrained in him, but he couldn't care less. His most priced possessions were very emotional things like his old firebolt broom and no newer broom in the world could replace it. So, why spend money on things you don't need? Finally, after two hours of aimless walking he discovered a shop that really drew his intention.
It was a very small shop located on the edge of a smaller street and very inconspicuous. All muggles simply seemed to pass it without taking notice and no one stopped to look for the shop's windows. Harry knew instantly that this was probably the effect of an anti-muggle charm or at least an attention-repelling hex. The small sign in the window was beautifully crafted and read "Personal Crafted Wands". Harry had sometimes heard people talking about different wandmakers that didn't work like Ollivanders, who first made the wands and then looked which customer fitted the wand. "The wand chooses the wizard, Mister Potter", was a sentence with so much meaning that it had lead down the road to Voldemorts destruction. Shops like the one before him worked exactly the other way around. They looked for who the wizard was and tried to craft a wand for his personal needs. In other words, wandmaker shops like the one before him were not only highly expensive, but also rare as hell. During their "camping tour" around England while chasing down horcruxes Hermione had told him that only two shops of this kind existed in the world. The first one being somewhere in Japan, the other one being in Greece. Obviously, this one in London was either a hoax or brand new.
There were a couple of wands in the shop window, all carefully deposited on cushions made of silk and they were breathtaking. The first one looked like a unicorn horn, but somehow twisted, richly ornated with diamonds and pearls. The second one looked even stranger. Placed on white silk was a wand that looked like being made of black marble with an finely cut onyx on it's tip. Another one seemed to be made entirely of dragon scales and finally others looked like nothing Harry had ever seen before.
"Well, some further informations won't hurt me", he thought and opened the door into the shop.
He couldn't say what he had expected, probably some old man with grey hair sitting on a stool behind a counter, but no matter what it was, all his expectations proved to be wrong. The whole shop looked like a very cosy living room with just a bare hint of shopping atmosphere. One wall was lined with small drawers, all neatly signed with small white shields. In the corner of the room were two armchairs draped around a small table just in front of an small fireplace. But the most intriguing thing was the wall to Harry's right side. It wasn't what one could call a normal "wall", it was more like hundreds of different tree branches had mingled and formed a solid wall. The room was only lit by the chimney's fire and two candle-holders with seven arms each. The whole shop smelled of an mixture of herbs and Harry's nostrils widened to get the aroma in it's whole bandwidth. He looked around, but didn't see anyone until a hidden door clicked silently and the most beautiful witch he had ever seen entered.
"Potter?", the witch asked sounding surprised. "Potter? Harry Potter?"
"Good day Madame", he answered, "do I know you?"
It took him all the willpower he could muster to speak straightforward. This was by far the most beautiful being he had ever seen. She seemed to be about his age, maybe two years younger, maybe two years older, but he couldn't remember knowing her. Her hair was very long and reached to her shoulder blades with the colour of platinum. If he should have taken a guess he would have said that it was probably as soft as Chinese silk. Her skin colour was alabaster and her proportions looked very female and vulnerable. She had nearly perfect breasts and a small waistline. Her cocktail dress in pale-red seemed out of place for a shopkeeper, but nevertheless fitted perfectly. She wore matching heels that showed off her perfect manicured toenails and the cape in grey gave her a somewhat mystic aura. All in all, if Harry would have to create the perfect woman, she have looked very similar to the one before him. If someone would have asked him in this moment what he wanted to do, his answer would have been somewhere along the line "Caress these wonderful red lips, pet these gorgeous breasts and then shag her senseless until tomorrow".
"Did you hear me, Mister Potter?", the beauty from another world asked.
"I'm sorry, I was captured by your beaut...sorry, by your beautiful shop", he answered, trying to look as neutral as he could.
"Oh yes", she answered with a smile, "people often are astounded by the beauty of my...shop."
"I'm really sorry, Madame, that was totally impolite of me. I'm Harry Potter."
"I know who you are, Mister Potter, even if you don't seem to remember me. You know, you always had so much things to deal with during our school time, that you never had an eye for the less dangerous, but more nicely things in the world. I'm Daphne Greengrass, same Hogwarts year as you, but Slytherin House."
Harry had no idea what to think. Of course had he heard some stories about Daphne Greengrass, or the "Ice-Queen" how she was called. He never had much contact with her, in fact he could count the words they had ever traded on the fingers of one hand. And she was a Slytherin! That meant that some natural carefulness wouldn't be wrong, although he long ago dropped the prejudice about all Slytherin being evil death eaters. And how could such a beauty be anything but nice?
"I'm really sorry, Daphne, and I mean it. Or should I call you Misses Greengrass? Once again, I'm impolite and have to apologize. I saw your shop and became curious. And when you entered it took my breath away facing your beauty. Sorry, sounds probably like a stereotype, but I suppose you know how beautiful you are. So please forgive me for pointing out the obvious in such a manner."
"Call me Daphne, at least as long as it is okay for me to call you Harry. You know, being beautiful is one of the most underestimated burdens in life, but I wouldn't want to bore you with my private problems. So, tell me – do you know what custom made wands are or shall I give you the tour and explain a little bit?"