Chapter 6
16 April, 1347
Girona
Hagrid guided the small band of English travelers across the Pyrenée mountains. It was hard going on often treacherous paths, and they were fortunate that Hagrid was able to keep up with their horses; otherwise, the time it took them might have easily doubled.
On the sixth day, just as the sun was past its zenith, Hagrid called a halt. They'd just passed through a deep gorge, made hazardous by lingering pockets of snow in the shadows, and were now standing on a rocky promontory overlooking the plain below. In the distance, they could see the Mediterranean Sea to the left and the walls of a city just on the horizon.
"This is as far as I can take yeh. The folks down in Catalonia don' like me much, an' it's better if yeh go on without me," Hagrid said. "Tha's Girona; half-a-day's ride yonder, an' yeh can stock up on vittles there."
"Our thanks, Hagrid." Sir Harold reached into his saddle roll and pulled out a pouch heavy with coin. "Your reward."
"Didn' do it fer money. It's fer Maître Dumbledore's sake tha' I helped yeh," the big man refused at first, but relented under Sir Draco's persuasive skills.
"Then don't take it for yourself if you don't want to, Hagrid," he said with a wave of his hand. "But I imagine your hound might now and then like something a bit more substantial than the rabbits he hunts … and who knows, maybe that lady friend of yours down in Perpignan would agree to share a cask of good wine come Beltane." He gave an exaggerated wink to the blushing half-giant. "Maxime, wasn't it?"
Hagrid laughed embarrassedly. "Yeh would remember what I said while in my cups, Sir Draco. Very well, fer my Maxime, I'll accept yer boon. An' thankee both."
"As I said, it's us who owe thanks," Harry said, smiling. He liked the big man, simple and straightforward as he was. "We're to enter Girona, then?"
"It's best ta buy supplies there. Yeh might even want ta get clothes; yer wools an' leathers won' really suit with summer jus' around the corner."
"There is that," Draco groaned, wiping sweat off his brow. That last climb had been especially arduous, despite done on horseback, and the temperatures were already soaring much higher than they were used to back home even in summer. "Can you suggest a place, or maybe a person?"
"Don' know about people, but yeh'd best go to the Distrito del Mago; jus' look fer Il Cuervo Negro. It's an inn jus' a street over from th' east gate ta the city, an' the patròn can direct yeh." Hagrid grinned. "Their Rioja wine isn' half-bad, either; jus' make sure ta tell 'em I sent yeh, and tha' yeh'd want it from the smallest cask."
"We'll keep that in mind," Harry laughed. "Farewell, friend!"
"Godspeed, Sir Knights." Hagrid saluted them briefly, turned around and left, each going their own way.
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They found the inn Hagrid had mentioned easily enough; the fierce black raven painted on its sign was hard to miss. The patròn, José, put them up in comfortable rooms, and on their discreet inquiries about the Distrito del Mago directed them towards the large stables at the back of the inn's courtyard. He opened a heavy oak door which led into a small patio bordered by high stone walls that rendered it invisible to outside views.
"Just tap your varita mágica – how you say … wand? Yes, wand – against these bricks, like so," he demonstrated with a meaty finger, "and a passage will open. When you return, just say 'abrir!' and you can come back through. I shall put your caballos in those stalls, so it won't look extraño ... ah, strange to be seen here."
"Thank you, goodman," Draco replied, finding it easier to cope with the man's accent than Harry. Patròn José spoke French similarly to Hagrid, but with a Catalunian flavour that wasn't always easy to follow. As it was growing quite late in the day, they decided to postpone further explorations to the next day and followed the man back to the taproom instead, had a hearty dinner of fish, bread and cheese, then retired for the night. In the morning, after breaking their fast, Vincent and Gregory were ordered to stay behind and watch both the horses and their possessions; they'd be allowed to switch places with Ronald and Seamus once they returned. The four of them went back to the stables, opened the wall as instructed and entered the magical district of Girona.
"What a clever solution," Harry marvelled as he watched the archway close up behind them again. "We should report this back home – London is getting so crowded, it might be a good way to hide Diagon Alley from the Muggles."
"Something to bear in mind, in any case," Draco agreed distractedly. "Now help me look for a house bearing the sign of an open hand holding a gold coin and a gem."
They strolled through the sun-drenched streets, taking note of shops and stalls where they'd be able to buy clothes and other necessities. At last, Ronald spotted the sign Draco was looking for.
"Very good! You two, wait here while Sir Harold and I do our business," the merchant knight told them, and all but dragged Harry into the house. Once inside, they found themselves face-to-face with a swarthy-skinned man standing behind a high desk, writing in a thick ledger.
"Good day, Messer Emilio," Draco greeted politely. The man looked up, startled, and a huge smile broke over his narrow face as he threw his quill aside.
"Draco Malfoy! I did not expect to see you here," he exclaimed, coming forth to shake their hands. "Welcome to the House of Piedro del Oro! What brings you to Girona?"
"Just a brief stop on our way further south to buy provisions and appropriate garments for the climate," Draco said airily, then lowered his voice. "And possibly make use of your special services."
"Of course, of course! Please follow me," Zabini said and ushered them through a half-hidden door into a plain, but comfortably-furnished parlour. "Please excuse me for a short while; I must call Yaakov to take my place." He grinned hugely and rubbed his hands together. "I shall also bring wine and cakes!" With a swirl of rich robes, he left the parlour, and they heard him shout some incomprehensible name.
Harold looked around curiously. The room was rather unremarkable but for a set of nice brass scales on a shelf near the window.
"What is this place, who's that man, and why are we here?" he asked, making sure he couldn't be overheard.
Draco grinned smugly even as he ticked off his answers on his fingers. "Primo, 'here' is a banking house; secundo, Messer Zabini and his business partner Yaakov ben Solomon administer my uncle's finances abroad, and tertio, we're here to exchange some of the lovely gemstones we've been provided with into coin so that we can pay our way."
"I thought money-lending and related affairs are forbidden by the Church?" Harold frowned. He wasn't especially devout, but he disliked breaking the law, especially when it rode the thin line between ecclesiastical and secular matters.
"Ah, that's the beauty of it," Draco smirked. "That law only pertains to usury – and even then, it's fine if you do it to 'heretics' ‒ in other words, people of a different faith." His expression shifted into unholy glee. "As it happens, the Jews have a similar stricture. So neither can lend money for interest to their own folk, but they're perfectly comfortable – and within the law – dealing with the other's."
"How very … Slytherin," Harry murmured, keeping his face carefully blank.
"Yes, and proud of it!" Draco grinned, then sobered. "Mind, Zabini and ben Solomon aren't usurers; they may ask some reasonable interest on the money they lend, but business ventures can fail, so surely they're entitled to some compensation for the risk they're taking in financing them."
"I see," Harold nodded. "Still gives me a headache, though."
"Don't worry your pretty head about it, Peverel" Draco said loftily. "That's what you have me for, after all."
*Oh, that's too good to pass up!*
"And here I thought you were just along to look pretty ‒ Malfoy," he said, letting his eyes rake up and down his companion's body in a way that sent a rush of blood into Draco's cheeks … and to another part of Harry's anatomy in return.
He ignored the resultant discomfort as best he could, and sat down on one of the cushioned benches in such a way that a casual observer wouldn't notice how his breeches were straining between his legs. Draco did, but as the return of Zabini thankfully prevented him from commenting, Harry had only to contend with a knowing little smirk and several long, lingering glances as they went through the polite ritual of taking refreshments, spending some time chatting and with catching up on news before they dealt with business ‒ namely, presenting their gems, Letter of Credit and procuring information as well as local currency.
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They ended up spending nearly ten days in Girona ‒ not because they particularly wanted to, but their horses needed rest after the strenuous passage across the Pyrenées. Also, it took far longer than they'd anticipated to have clothing made that was suitable for the Iberian climate. The Distrito del Mago only had one seamstress, and even with magic and some pre-cut clothes that only needed alterations there just wasn't enough time to equip six grown men any faster.
Not that Harry and Draco particularly minded the delay. From here on out, they could follow the rather well-travelled coastal paths through the kingdoms of Aragón and Castile, where the terrain was much easier to negotiate. There'd be enough settlements along the way to restock their provisions if necessary … and most importantly, there was no war going on. While the King of Castile, though related, wasn't exactly an ally of King Edward's, he was unlikely to offer hostility to a small group of Englishmen who were peacefully passing through his realm. Aragon was too busy waging war over the island of Sardinia to care about them, either. So, as long as they didn't run afoul of the Church and the Inquisition, they should be safe.
Because of this last concern, they welcomed the prolonged stay even more. Harry knew, and impressed strongly on his companions, that they'd have to be extremely cautious about using magic once they left. "Exercise your wand skills carefully, but with discretion," he ordered them, "and make sure that every item in our luggage can withstand an inspection by Muggles."
So while they waited for their clothes, Draco and Harry spent a few hours each day with their men to make sure that the Notice-Me-Not spells would hold, that any Muggle-Repelling Charms would be subtle enough not to arouse suspicion, and that any items Shrunk or Transfigured for ease and convenience would be well-hidden among their visible, 'normal' luggage.
At last, refreshed and well-provisioned, they set out on a Thursday morning towards the Kingdom of Granada.
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A/N:"Distrito del Mago" is Spanish for "magical district"
"caballos" is Spanish for "horses"
"abrir!" means "open!"
"Piedro del Oro" = stone of gold, ref. 'Goldstein'
The idea of a merchant banking house called "Zabini and Goldstein" was taken – with permission – from GMWWemyss's "Evelake" series. (I had to work around the whole 'Goldstein-as-a-name' issue a bit, as Jews only used patronymic names in the 14th century.) Going by that premise, the Zabini family is from Lombardy, an Italian province, and Lombards historically were among the first who developed what we now know as banking … and actually worked in Catalonia in the late Middle Ages. Oh, and according to the HP Lexicon, Gringotts wasn't founded until 1474, and the Leaky Cauldron only in 1500!
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