Title: Wisdom From The Dark 04
Author: Jyrnn
Spoilers: All four books. Wait, can't say that now can I? Okay, PS, CS, PoA, and GoF. I'll probably pilfer whatever bits I can from The Order of The Phoenix. Incidently some of it can fit. Thank you J. K Rowling.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They are the sole intellectual property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. I gain no monetary reward for this exercise and do not intend any copyright infringement.
Summery: A child has suffered enough, an intruder encounters unexpected resistance, and the careless words of Voldemort have the most unexpected results. Harry Potter is about to take a stand.
Chapter 9: A Face in the Crowd
The soft caress of the thick carpeting soothed Harry's frayed nerves. Jean Paul had escorted him to a opulent hotel on the border of Marseilles' magical district. The building itself loomed the cramped warren of alleys and roads that was dubbed Rue de le Sorc. Oddly the building cast no shadow. The district itself was comparable to Diagon Alley, it bore the same feeling of displacement. Both bustled with wizard activity beneath the notice of muggles and both seemed a relic of medieval Europe. Cramped yet vast, the district's odd turns and warrens were familiar to Harry. A testament to the absentminded architecture that plagued most wizard buildings. The hotel was different. The Pillar was magical but it also catered to the muggle populace. When Harry had asked the now haggard Jean Paul he only waved the concern away with "Charms" as way as explanation. People in robes walked past and rather amazingly, through muggle tourists and visitors. Whatever charms that Jean Paul alluded were powerful indeed. To Harry it appeared that muggle and wizard alike were oblivious of one another, even to the extent that they existed in completely different spheres of reality. It was too much to take in a single glance and Harry begged off moving any further. A relieved and tired Jean Paul agreed and they seated themselves on a bench in the main lobby.
"So muggles can't see wizards here and wizards can't see muggles, nor touch?" Harry speculated.
"The way it was explained to me, the wards around the premises tap into the magic of the wizard. It shifts them into demi-plane making them ethereal and invisible for those who entered lacking magic. A blanket of obscurity is cast over the muggles. Conversely when a wizard enters, charm is placed on him, blinding him to all things muggle. I cannot see them, no wizard but the staff can see them, and you." said Jean Paul in way of explanation.
"Why me?"
"You are the owner of this establishment. That is why we are here. The owner does not pay rent, no?" postulated the French man.
Harry simple nodded his understanding. After the short rest Harry was guided into a lift and up to the top floor. "Here is your suite monsieur. It composes the top two floors of the hotel complete with all the amenities that one of station would require. Monsieur Marduk requests that you do not leave until he has smoothed your presence over with authorities. There is a shopping complex in the sub-levels of the building. Ask and it shall be yours." after depositing a few scrolls he had been carrying on a large desk in the corner, he gave a graceful bow the tall man departed.
Now alone with his toes making fists in the lush rugs and carpet, Harry observed his penthouse. If the furnishings of Marduk's office was opulent, then his rooms was majestic. A large dining room, complete kitchen, four master bedrooms and a complete array of magical household items. The TV room seemed more like a theater and the and the bathroom more like a Roman bathhouse. Oh, after craning his neck out over the balcony he saw that there was a pool. In fact most of the roof, laden with gardens and benches, were at his disposal. The owl rookery was situated at the north of the roof and Harry idly watched the fervent flight of departing and arriving owl couriers. All and all it was a posh and comfortable arraignment. He had been perusing the documents which seemed to correlate Marduk's assertions of wealth. Attached on the last sheet there was a stone medallion engraved with his family crest. The roots of a large tree framing a shield with two wolf-headed gargoyles clashing violently against a thin blade on the shield face. In Latin the crest was underscored by a motto: Contra Noctem cum Ferra in Manu Stamus, Against the night with iron in hand we stand. On the back of the greyish medal was stamped the numbers of two of his bank accounts. It was time to go shopping.
***
The excursion was, by all accounts, successful. After stepping of the lift into the sub levels of the hotel the an army of sales reps decided upon. The competition for Harry's money started an impromptu bidding war, each store owner desperate to have Monsieur Potter don his or her garb. It was actually surreal. Upon reflection Harry decided to buy a little from everyone, lest a riot break out. It wound not due for his hotel to be trashed because he had been to generous with his favor on one party. In fact his wardrobe grew substantially in size and style. He had one insistence though, he wanted only shades of black and whites. Memories of Ron's maroon robes haunted his sense of fashion and opted for simplicity over anything else. Now donning a black dragonhide trench robe and a new pair of glasses he felt a refreshed. His right wrist bugled slightly at the new accessory. Beneath the cuff of his stiff coat was a tactical wand holder. With practice he could achieve the traditional swish and flick movement. The harness would prevent disarming charms; he would never be wandless so long as he bore it. With a new spikey haircut that veiled his lightning scar slightly he strode confident across the hotel lobby. Apparently he had grown during his imprisonment under the stairs. While not huge by any means, he was lean and of average height; no longer the midget of his taunting.
Despite he new appearance he was not noticed by the Maitre Dee. He was being yelled at in French by an irrate guest and making apologies to the mortified family of the man. Curious Harry paused and slipped on an artifact he acquired from the shopping complex. The small earbud poked into and framed his ear and would pierce the language barrier. After enough time wearing the device he would be able to fluently speak any language it was adapted to. A moment later a small crackle and the loud ranting of the man became comprehensible. He was cursing. Loudly. With amazing ease and capacity. His blonde headed family were probably more embarrassed at their patriarch's verbose declamations than whatever mix up had happened. In fact one of the huddled females seemed familiar. Even with her face buried in her hands Harry felt the sting of here unconscious Veela charms. He stood dumb founded for a moment and took in the loud monologue of the elder Delacour.
"..reserved six months ago and you said 'you lost it!' My dear daughter is leaving for Britain in a week and I have a mind to ...." Deftly Harry inserted himself into tirade. Hands outstretched placatingly he silence the irate Frenchman. His mouth twisted as the artifact forced his dialogue into French.
"Monsieur Delacour, perhaps I can be of help?" The man took in Harry's figure rather cynically but was slightly surprised that his name was known. He motioned for Harry to continue. "Instead of ousting whoever filled your reservation I invite you and your family dine with me. Tonight in my penthouse to compensate for the failings of my staff." He said the last with his glance at the gulping Maitre Dee. Harry winked at him in way of comfort. The stressed man slumped with relief and awaited Delacour's response.
The color of Delacour faded from bright red to a more normal complection. He seemed delighted with the turn of event."Your staff? Then you are The proprietor. Excellent, it would be an honor to dine with you. I am Monteros Delacour. Who might you be sir?"
"Harry Potter, sir"
"Well then..." But Delacour's next statement was cut off as his youngest daughter squealed loudly and catapulted herself into Harry's arm. The blonde bundle all but smothered him with kisses.
Conversation seemed a moot point until Harry could manage to pry Gabrielle Delacour from around his neck.
End 9
Author's Note:
Well obviously I'm back from my vacation. It was kinda slow but business is about to pick up, I promise.
To all the support I've gotten I'd just like to say thanks. My reviewers, Nighttime Sunshine, Lady FoxFire, Relle, Them Girl, Cricket, AJake, SaiyanSeker88, fan, bostionian and Otaku Freak. Also to the new reviewers gallandro-83, Zaln, pablo5280 sil and paul. Thanks everyone! :}
Author: Jyrnn
Spoilers: All four books. Wait, can't say that now can I? Okay, PS, CS, PoA, and GoF. I'll probably pilfer whatever bits I can from The Order of The Phoenix. Incidently some of it can fit. Thank you J. K Rowling.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They are the sole intellectual property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. I gain no monetary reward for this exercise and do not intend any copyright infringement.
Summery: A child has suffered enough, an intruder encounters unexpected resistance, and the careless words of Voldemort have the most unexpected results. Harry Potter is about to take a stand.
Chapter 9: A Face in the Crowd
The soft caress of the thick carpeting soothed Harry's frayed nerves. Jean Paul had escorted him to a opulent hotel on the border of Marseilles' magical district. The building itself loomed the cramped warren of alleys and roads that was dubbed Rue de le Sorc. Oddly the building cast no shadow. The district itself was comparable to Diagon Alley, it bore the same feeling of displacement. Both bustled with wizard activity beneath the notice of muggles and both seemed a relic of medieval Europe. Cramped yet vast, the district's odd turns and warrens were familiar to Harry. A testament to the absentminded architecture that plagued most wizard buildings. The hotel was different. The Pillar was magical but it also catered to the muggle populace. When Harry had asked the now haggard Jean Paul he only waved the concern away with "Charms" as way as explanation. People in robes walked past and rather amazingly, through muggle tourists and visitors. Whatever charms that Jean Paul alluded were powerful indeed. To Harry it appeared that muggle and wizard alike were oblivious of one another, even to the extent that they existed in completely different spheres of reality. It was too much to take in a single glance and Harry begged off moving any further. A relieved and tired Jean Paul agreed and they seated themselves on a bench in the main lobby.
"So muggles can't see wizards here and wizards can't see muggles, nor touch?" Harry speculated.
"The way it was explained to me, the wards around the premises tap into the magic of the wizard. It shifts them into demi-plane making them ethereal and invisible for those who entered lacking magic. A blanket of obscurity is cast over the muggles. Conversely when a wizard enters, charm is placed on him, blinding him to all things muggle. I cannot see them, no wizard but the staff can see them, and you." said Jean Paul in way of explanation.
"Why me?"
"You are the owner of this establishment. That is why we are here. The owner does not pay rent, no?" postulated the French man.
Harry simple nodded his understanding. After the short rest Harry was guided into a lift and up to the top floor. "Here is your suite monsieur. It composes the top two floors of the hotel complete with all the amenities that one of station would require. Monsieur Marduk requests that you do not leave until he has smoothed your presence over with authorities. There is a shopping complex in the sub-levels of the building. Ask and it shall be yours." after depositing a few scrolls he had been carrying on a large desk in the corner, he gave a graceful bow the tall man departed.
Now alone with his toes making fists in the lush rugs and carpet, Harry observed his penthouse. If the furnishings of Marduk's office was opulent, then his rooms was majestic. A large dining room, complete kitchen, four master bedrooms and a complete array of magical household items. The TV room seemed more like a theater and the and the bathroom more like a Roman bathhouse. Oh, after craning his neck out over the balcony he saw that there was a pool. In fact most of the roof, laden with gardens and benches, were at his disposal. The owl rookery was situated at the north of the roof and Harry idly watched the fervent flight of departing and arriving owl couriers. All and all it was a posh and comfortable arraignment. He had been perusing the documents which seemed to correlate Marduk's assertions of wealth. Attached on the last sheet there was a stone medallion engraved with his family crest. The roots of a large tree framing a shield with two wolf-headed gargoyles clashing violently against a thin blade on the shield face. In Latin the crest was underscored by a motto: Contra Noctem cum Ferra in Manu Stamus, Against the night with iron in hand we stand. On the back of the greyish medal was stamped the numbers of two of his bank accounts. It was time to go shopping.
***
The excursion was, by all accounts, successful. After stepping of the lift into the sub levels of the hotel the an army of sales reps decided upon. The competition for Harry's money started an impromptu bidding war, each store owner desperate to have Monsieur Potter don his or her garb. It was actually surreal. Upon reflection Harry decided to buy a little from everyone, lest a riot break out. It wound not due for his hotel to be trashed because he had been to generous with his favor on one party. In fact his wardrobe grew substantially in size and style. He had one insistence though, he wanted only shades of black and whites. Memories of Ron's maroon robes haunted his sense of fashion and opted for simplicity over anything else. Now donning a black dragonhide trench robe and a new pair of glasses he felt a refreshed. His right wrist bugled slightly at the new accessory. Beneath the cuff of his stiff coat was a tactical wand holder. With practice he could achieve the traditional swish and flick movement. The harness would prevent disarming charms; he would never be wandless so long as he bore it. With a new spikey haircut that veiled his lightning scar slightly he strode confident across the hotel lobby. Apparently he had grown during his imprisonment under the stairs. While not huge by any means, he was lean and of average height; no longer the midget of his taunting.
Despite he new appearance he was not noticed by the Maitre Dee. He was being yelled at in French by an irrate guest and making apologies to the mortified family of the man. Curious Harry paused and slipped on an artifact he acquired from the shopping complex. The small earbud poked into and framed his ear and would pierce the language barrier. After enough time wearing the device he would be able to fluently speak any language it was adapted to. A moment later a small crackle and the loud ranting of the man became comprehensible. He was cursing. Loudly. With amazing ease and capacity. His blonde headed family were probably more embarrassed at their patriarch's verbose declamations than whatever mix up had happened. In fact one of the huddled females seemed familiar. Even with her face buried in her hands Harry felt the sting of here unconscious Veela charms. He stood dumb founded for a moment and took in the loud monologue of the elder Delacour.
"..reserved six months ago and you said 'you lost it!' My dear daughter is leaving for Britain in a week and I have a mind to ...." Deftly Harry inserted himself into tirade. Hands outstretched placatingly he silence the irate Frenchman. His mouth twisted as the artifact forced his dialogue into French.
"Monsieur Delacour, perhaps I can be of help?" The man took in Harry's figure rather cynically but was slightly surprised that his name was known. He motioned for Harry to continue. "Instead of ousting whoever filled your reservation I invite you and your family dine with me. Tonight in my penthouse to compensate for the failings of my staff." He said the last with his glance at the gulping Maitre Dee. Harry winked at him in way of comfort. The stressed man slumped with relief and awaited Delacour's response.
The color of Delacour faded from bright red to a more normal complection. He seemed delighted with the turn of event."Your staff? Then you are The proprietor. Excellent, it would be an honor to dine with you. I am Monteros Delacour. Who might you be sir?"
"Harry Potter, sir"
"Well then..." But Delacour's next statement was cut off as his youngest daughter squealed loudly and catapulted herself into Harry's arm. The blonde bundle all but smothered him with kisses.
Conversation seemed a moot point until Harry could manage to pry Gabrielle Delacour from around his neck.
End 9
Author's Note:
Well obviously I'm back from my vacation. It was kinda slow but business is about to pick up, I promise.
To all the support I've gotten I'd just like to say thanks. My reviewers, Nighttime Sunshine, Lady FoxFire, Relle, Them Girl, Cricket, AJake, SaiyanSeker88, fan, bostionian and Otaku Freak. Also to the new reviewers gallandro-83, Zaln, pablo5280 sil and paul. Thanks everyone! :}