The Count of Azkaban
Chapter 3
Harry was hurrying along the small path that had built itself during the last several centuries. He was uncaring to his path as well as his destination. The last several years were the gift to him given by fates. The people he had met, the friends he had made and the life he had led.
For a long time he had felt that as something that was due to him because of his earlier life. After hearing about Ginny, all he could do was curse all the gods for doing this to him. He had been ready for many things. He had been ready to face Ginny's death. He had been ready to hear of her incarceration. He had prepared himself for so many things that all his nights had passed. But he had never ever thought about her joining the side of his worst enemy. His heart cried but he resolved to move forward. There was justice to be dispensed and by the lord who had spared him his life and given him so much, he would be the hand of God.
(((o)))
A few hundred miles away, the object of Harry's disconcertations was in the huge lawn of the Malfoy Estate. Totally separate from the Malfoy manor, this was Draco's own house. It was an enormous estate, nearly a hundred acres. There were a few mountains and a couple of streams flowing through it.
The Ginny we knew was a young, vivacious and lively girl. She was loved and it showed in her eyes. They used to shine with life. This Ginny is not the Ginny we see any more.
Virginia, or Lady Virginia Malfoy, as she is now known is nearing thirty with a ten year old son. If someone could look at her without knowing, he would be hard pressed to tell her that she was a day over twenty three. She was known as a woman of grace, style and more than that, class.
She was a benefactor of the poor and did huge amount of work with other magical races as well as children. There were several shelter homes that were being run by her to safeguard the orphans of the war.
She was a model Lady, a model wife and a model mother. Nobody could say any different except if someone looked into her eyes closely. They had always been huge brown eyes, so full of warmth and love than one could drown in them. Her intelligence and wisdom showed in the depth of the expressions. Any person who was looking for some sympathy was sure to find his or her own share there. Her eyes had grown even deeper.
Sometimes, when she was alone, one could see a faint shadow passed over her face. It was not the face of happiness that everyone knew. Rather, it was a face of agony and pain. It was a face of despair. Those were the eyes of longing. If, at that moment, somebody could see her, anybody would surely know that she had been hurt in the worst way possible.
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Ginny had it all, all the wealth, all the fame, all the money and all the pain. There was a single ray of light that was her son, Arthur or Artie as she called him. If one was to look at him, sometimes it was very difficult for them to see much of Draco in him. Yes, there were oohs and aahs. But one could discern them as an after thought. He was exactly like her.
At the moment, Arthur could be seen racing around the fields on a firebolt with Ginny behind him trying to stop and get something to eat.
"Artie!" Ginny shouted. She was on a better broom than Artie's. Still, he out paced her. They had been going around the circles for the last half hour as a house elf, with a plate of milk and biscuits popping all around hoping that the young master would either stop and eat, or the madam would just give up. Artie only ate after his mother had accepted defeat.
A few seconds later, totally tired, Ginny flew down to the ground and came to a stop by Blinky, the house elf. Taking out her wand, she conjured a few chairs, a table and small tent. As usual, Blinky popped out for a second and got her a tall glass of cool lemonade.
Accepting the glass and accepting defeat, Ginny sat down.
High above, Artie saw his mother getting into their usual defeat ritual, and sped towards her. A few seconds later, he drew up against her and stopped. It was worthy of a professional player. After all, Ginny had been offered a place in the England team just before her marriage to Draco. She had been that good.
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A big smile appeared on his face as he walked inside the tent and picked up his glass. He hardly had any sweat, whereas his mother was soaked in it.
"Dear Mom. I think you should accept that you are getting too old to play." He bantered easily. "You know with the sweat you are making, we could keep all the cleaners in business for years. I think Dra…dad may even own a few." Ginny overlooked the deliberate slip of tongue and kept sipping her lemonade. There was no love lost between the father and son.
Draco was hardly at home and when he was, all he could do was try to belittle their son. He always harped about how little he knew and kept boasting of his achievements. A few years ago, both had stopped talking to one another. They tolerated each other and saw each other only five times a year. Twice during the semi annual ball, they had in their other residences, once at the king's annual ball and once again on Draco's birthday bash. The fifth time was a roving affair. It happened sometimes when both Ginny and Draco passed each other during their other activities. This was all when they lived under the same roof, albeit, in separate wings.
Ginny was looking at her son as she saw several emotions fly across. She was sure that none of them were very charitable. Despite all the crap dished out by Draco, she was amazed at how powerful the little tyke was. She still trained religiously for at least an hour a day. Four years ago, he had found her once. Since then every morning, both of them trained either together or, on the very few instants that they were apart, separately.
Coming out of her reverie, she just nodded absently. Paying no attention to the remark, she had just let go. Usually, that would have been at least worth a scolding. Worried as to the reason of such laxness, Artie moved around and faced his mother.
"Are you okay?" he said.
Straightening her head and looking straight into her son's eyes, she said, "Yes. I am okay." Artie could see a fleeting emotion pass his mother's face. He had seen it a few times when she seemed distant and sad. He had tried to find out the reason. His mother always told him it's nothing. 'He would get through to her one day', he promised himself and went back to more important things as demanding a chocolate chip cookie from Blinky.
(((o)))
Draco was sitting on the topmost floor of the new building of the Malfoy Bank. It was situated just adjacent to the old Gringotts. The place was like a black hole you could see through. If someone stepped in from the front, he reappeared from the back. Any magic passed through as well. Since the fateful day of the taking over of the Wizarding world by the dark lord, all Gringotts branches from all the places under the dark lord's control had vanished. Since then, the best of the best had tried to break through the charm but had failed. It had become a thorn in the side of the dark lord.
He looked down at the scroll which had just appeared in front of him. It was a magical scroll used by various banks as a secure means of opening and transferring monies. Using the muggle idea, a newly opened French bank, had introduced the idea some time back and it had caught on pretty quick. It was now the biggest bank in the continent. Now every bank balanced their accounts once a year. So the transfer of gold only happened once.
As he opened the scroll, he found a letter of credit opened by the La banque de l'Union européenne or simply known as La Beau, the beautiful one. Indeed, doing business with the most premier business was an honor. It was rumored that several economies, muggle as well as Wizarding, were directly or indirectly influenced by the bank. As it has come up soon after the vanishing of the Gringotts, there were rumors that it was a new improved version of the old bank. His Highness has been interested in finding more about it and now Draco would have a chance to do something about it.
The reason was the scroll in his hands. For the very first time, he had received such a request. This letter read as follows:
Sir Draco L. Malfoy
The Chairman,
The Malfoy Bank,
Diagon Alley
London.
Sir,
As per the inter banks laws and under the terms and conditions defined by them under the special economic treaty no 1665 sub section 3342 part f-9, we are hereby opening a letter of credit to the below mentioned account in favor of The Count of Azkaban.
The details of the letter of credit are as under:
Beneficiary The Count of Azkaban.
Mode of Payment Gold Galleons to paid on demand,
Line of credit Unlimited.
You shall be reimbursed whatever amount that you may forward at any time, without waiting to balance the accounts should you require additional funds to take care of our esteemed client.
Regards,
The Chairman,
La Banque de l'Union Européenne
Rue de Magie, Paree.
There were proper magical seals which he tested with his wand personally. He was wondering as to the importance and the status of the person who had forced the ever elusive chair-man of the La Beau to write a letter. Kings, Monarchs, Royalty and plebeians like the prime ministers or presidents of various countries were known to be waiting for an appointment with the chair-man.
If, somehow, this count may be used, it could be very beneficial for him. He smiled, happy at his plan, and called his valet, Scattermigger. As he entered and stood awaiting instructions, Draco said, without moving his head "Get me the file on the Count of Azkaban." He did not know every rich person of the world but he was sure that a dossier should be available.
Nodding his head, Scattermigger walked away.
(((o)))
Ron had just woken up in yet another unknown room. He had a big splitting headache. As he turned around, he saw a beautiful blonde sleeping on the covers next to him. As much as he tried to remember, he couldn't recall where they had met.
It had almost become a habit for him. Since the day he had made it as a keeper, he had entered the very exclusive club of heroes. The girls were aplenty and he already was famous or infamous being the friend of the boy-who-betrayed and being one of the wizards who had been awarded the Order of Slytherin, 2nd class just after the new regime had taken over.
He took out a hangover potion from his pouch and drank the dose. He suddenly felt the usual wave of coolness pass through him and felt his mind clear. He started to remember the bar he had met the girl. It was just another day in the life of Sir Ronald Weasley.
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Ever since the grim determination had caught hold of him, Harry had become a red hot locomotive on fire. For the last several hours, he saw as the island of Azkaban changed its shape. There were more than two hundred house elves and seven Wizard construction companies who were changing the things as per plan that had been given across to them. Usually, such a task would take them at least three weeks. But with the aid of numerous house elves as well as multiplying the number of people involves, the task was being shrunk to be completed in less than eighteen hours.
Even now, barely six hours from the time the whole team had started its work, no-one could recognize the place as it was. It had been a cold, dinghy and dilapidating monument which had been deteriorating as it lost most of its magic. The island had been long but unwelcome. It had not been a happy place.
Now, just some hours later, a shape had started to come through. Through use of various enchantments and transfiguration, the new building was starting to come through.
It was tall and had an air of superiority. It was a bit more than a castle. One might say that it was almost a palace. The walls were being built using snow white virgin white marble. A slab alone of such marble was an expense enough. To have such a palace being built with such a fine stone was almost unheard of. But the stone had been stored inside a magical room and it was giving off as much as was required.
Soon, the entire periphery was completed. Another team was making the palace inside. As per plans, there were going to be 148 rooms, 28 living rooms and several ball rooms, a separate hospital wing and a truly magnificent library. There was even a ball room made wholly of glass and crystal. That room was a splendor beyond all splendors.
Outside the main office, a huge lake was being built as well as the biggest Quidditch pitch. There were stables for horses as well as beautiful landscaping all across.
Harry himself was looking after the very heart of the castle. Under the entire splendor, he was making his very own apartment.
Even though he could afford the best, his tastes had remained very simple. He was building his own apartment around the room from which he had appeared. Against all the opulence being built into the castle of the count of Azkaban, his room was simple and comfortable. It was a room of a man who was very confident of himself.
It was probably going to be the most beautiful as well as the most intimidating castle and it was going to be the most important apartment. For here, in a time not that far away, the future of the Wizarding world would be decided.
Author's Notes:
Your response to the fiction had been amazing. I just hope that I can do justice to your expectations without dishonoring the legend that is the count of monte cristo.
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