Food for your soul Ch15
Disclaimer JKR owns the rights to Harry Potter and I'm not her.
Harry had twelve hours to explore Mexico. First things first, he needed more hangover potions and he thought he couldn't go wrong with some pepperup also. Being constantly busy twelve hours a day, every day left him drained.
Harry was heading to Ojuela, a former mining town that had a high population of magicals and in it's hayday was similar to Godrics Hollow. Unfortunately for the residents of Ojuela flooding destroyed the mines causing most of the muggles to leave. Now Ojuela was mostly magical with a few squibs and muggles in the know.
Ojuela was currently famous for it's suspension bridge and potions makers. It was also one of the few places a magical was safe from both the cartels and the government. The cartels would often kidnap a wizards family and force him to smuggle drugs. There were rumors of them kidnapping witches and forcing them into some kind of sick breeding program to create home grown smugglers.
The government was little better than the cartels. Magicals weren't seen as Mexican citizens. Due to three cults of dark magic practitioners in the late 1700's all witches and wizards were considered an evil in need of eradication. As such magicals stuck together and if they needed to leave the conclaves, they did their best to blend in with muggles.
The average Mexican citizen never had problems with the magicals. After the statute of secrecy but before the cult activity in the north of the country. Magicals and muggles had lived side by side in harmony, something that Britain had never been able to do since the fall of Camelot. To this day, even with all the secrecy many of Ojuela's non-magical neighbors put themselves in harm's way to protect their magical neighbors.
Harry apperated into the town square using the coordinates in his guild book. The town was bustling, the smell of Mexican street foods hit him like a brick to the face. His mouth watered, his stomach growled and his plans of buying potions were put on hold.
Soon Harry was shoveling food into his mouth with wreckless abandon. Gorditas filled with a spicy pork had so far been his favorite. The Scorpion taco had been tasty but the crunchy bugs were off-putting. Corn on the cob, smothered in butter with some kind of spicy dry rub made him feel like someone had lit his tongue on fire and it would soon engulf his entire face.
Harry cast a wandless cleaning charm on his shirt that was now covered in drips of various sauces. He had for a brief moment seriously contemplated taking off his shirt and sucking it clean.
He asked for directions to the potions market for the man selling the coffee he was now drinking. His guild book had suggested either Eduardo Lopez or Daniel Marino for European style potions. He also wanted to try a hydration potion invented by Lupita Castenegra. It was meant for desert survival, something very useful here in Durango but people quickly figured out it was a perfect chaser to the hangover cure. Unfortunately for the rest of the world the main ingredient only grew in this part of Mexico and all attempts to cultivate it elsewhere had failed.
Lupita Castenegra was easily the oldest person Harry had ever met. She made Bathilda Bagshot look like a spring chicken. She stood at about four feet tall with a stopped posture and leathery skin the color of a toasted almond. She had a large growth on her nose, if it wasn't for her kind eyes and warm smile she would look like a typical muggle Halloween witch. Less green of course.
"Hello, I'd like some hydration potions but I'm also interested in your other wares." Harry said in Spanish.
"You're accent is terrible." She said in perfect English.
"I'm not surprised. So what kind of potions do you offer?"
"What do you need?"
"Well I work long hours and need a boost now and again. Anything to help with hangovers. Wit sharpening or anything that helps me learn faster. Um that's about it."
"How about a potion to correct your vision?"
"I didn't think a potion existed for that." Harry said in surprise.
"We had to develop one since we can't have young witches and wizards near muggles here. The risk of detection because of accidental magic is to high. The muggles have access to the old ministry detection grid. Unless you are able to fight, be very careful where you perform magic in this country. "
Harry smiled at the old woman. It was nice talking with someone who didn't recognize him.
"I'll keep that in mind. I'm only here for the day. So how does that vision cure work?"
She pulled out what looked like a handful of jelly beans. "We disguise potions to look like candies. Carrying glass phials is too conspicuous. Take two of these every night before bed, your sight will get incrementally better over the course of about two weeks. Depending on how bad your eyesight is."
"That sounds good. Though I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to trade for magic beans. I'll take them and the hydration potions."
"I have something better than hydration potions, an improved hangover cure. Hidden to look like ginger candies. Better effects and taste."
"I'll take both."
"How would you like to pay? I take American Dollars or Galleons."
"Galleons please."
"Then that will be fourteen galleons. Also wit sharpening potion would be a special order. It is unlikely anyone has any in stock. For an additional galleon, I'll throw in two packs of pepperup gum."
Harry forked over fifteen galleons and pocketed his purchases.
"I never caught your name sir."
"Harry Potter ma'am."
The old woman looked shocked. "Harry Potter? The author? I just ordered your book for my great grandsons."
Now Harry looked shocked. Harry Potter the author? That was so much better than The-Boy-Who-Lived. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you for buying my book."
000
Harry apperated near the dock where the ship was moored. He kept a close eye on the people around him. The stories he had heard in the cantina about the government of Mexico had him on edge. He didn't think his flame freezing charm could hold up against thermite, the method the government used to burn witches alive. It was a sad day when being kidnapped by the cartels was a better option than being found by the government. Being foreign wasn't any kind of protection either. They'd kill you and just blame the cartels.
Harry was never so happy to see his tiny little room as he was that night. He hadn't had any run-ins with anyone shady but the fear of such reminded him he was out of practice when it came to duelling. He'd have to find a way to fix that.
Since he had sixteen hours left before he had to work again, he ate two jelly beans and curled up in bed.
000
A/N: Sorry it's late but now that I'm no longer stuck in quarantine everyone expects me to see them while I'm in the country. My brother who I've seen twice in the last five years, just showed up out of the blue for an overnight road trip. Thanks for the reviews. If there is a country you would like Harry to visit, let me know. I'll see what I can do.
Also someone messaged me complaining that Molly's speech was some kind of dog whistle for racists. To them I say get a life. Yes, I'm a white guy from Canada. I work for a Qatari family and live in the Middle East most of the year. My girlfriend is Cambodian and my best friend is a Russian Jew. If I'm a racist I'm certainly bad at it.