Three: Brussels to Ghent

Newhaven to Dieppe. Dieppe to Paris. Paris to Brussels.

Half hour by train to get from Brussels to Gent-Sint-Pieters station, drowning in bicycles and heat. A ten-minute walk to Citadelpark, where in the shadow of sycamores lay three grottos children liked to play in, and from there, through the coldest part of the stone wall onto Vervelendlei, the magical river district of Ghent.

It was something Severus was beginning to understand: the simple structure of a travel itinerary concealed pockets of unforeseen yet unavoidable complexities, detours and obstacles and children getting sick all over themselves because Potter had to use any opportunity to be a nuisance. What did one do with sick children, other than send them up to the hospital wing?

When he held his hand against the grotto wall, he felt a tremble go through his whole frame: this here was ancient magic, untraceable and unvanquishable, tied firmly to its land and the waters running beneath it, possible to harness when creating a secret passage but impossible to fully control. Wizarding enclaves cropped up near these naturally-occurring magical footholds, many dating back to before the time wizards had the skills to craft a secret safe spot from the ground up; but they were whimsical and unstable things, and Severus saw this was true about Vervelendlei at once.

Medieval house fronts rose on either side of the narrow river, painted brightly and fluttery with motion: owls flew from sill to sill, flowerpots knocked against one another as they fought for a place in the shade, window shutters flapped together as if in laughter. It was entirely possible, when one focused on his immediate surroundings, to believe that the broomstick sale shielded only the Apothecary storefront behind it. But when Severus lengthened his gaze, he easily saw through them both into another reality entirely: one where the riverside held grass and sparse industrial buildings, storage units and faded signs letting a passing muggle know they had reached the city's limits.

Once he'd seen through to the other side, he couldn't unsee it. He tried to focus his gaze on the little stone bridge as he crossed it, on the bar gurgling up sweaty passers-by eager for a momentary respite from the sun, on the group of young witches that passed him; but all he saw was that underlayer, the bleakness of it, and it made the whole of the merry street seem like a pitiful façade.

Brussels to Ghent. Back to Brussels again for Potter. Then onto Amsterdam tomorrow. Amsterdam to Berlin, Berlin to Stockholm, Stockholm to Helsinki.

Albus had instructed him to seek out a sweets shop on the west bank of the river. Severus spotted it easily: it sported a curlicued sign reading Confiserie and a display so colourfully saccharine, it made him feel sick too.

He swung the door open.

Secreted among mountains of nougat and golden-wrapped chocolate was a young woman, dressed as a sailor and hunched over a thick volume that looked worn from reading, ignorant to Severus's presence until he announced himself with a Goedemorgen, hastily learnt from a store front he'd passed on the way here.

The girl startled upward, then smiled at him and said something that didn't sound at all Flemish but wasn't English either. The confusion must have shown on his face, because she strolled right into,

'English, yes?' like he held no secrets from her at all.

'Please,' he said, trying and failing not to feel embarrassed.

'I hear your horrible accent, so I thought French,' she said, in a horrible accent. 'How can I help?'

'I'm here to see Mr Lieven Hetzel.'

Immediately, the girl lost interest. 'Upstairs,' she said, pointing with her pinkie, eyes back on her reading.

Severus followed the pinkie to the stairway, then upward as it winded oddly against the back wall, cramped in the tight space until it spilled into a narrow room overlooking the street. There, by a desk dwarfed beneath a typewriter in pink copper, sat a bearded man Severus didn't know but supposed Lieven Hetzel, and next to him, Albus.

A wave of sickening relief rolled through him.

'Ah, Severus,' Albus said, rising to his feet but holding onto his gold-rimmed teacup. As if he'd earned it, as if he'd gone through some ordeal on par with Severus's day, as if he hadn't leisurely Apparated here a quarter of an hour ago. 'A sight for sore eyes. Please, meet my good friend Lieven. We have him to thank for this opportunity to converse in peace, of course. He is one of the kindest men I know.'

Hetzel seemed entirely underwhelmed by the praise, but stood as he shook Severus's hand. Then, he caught his eye and asked, in a rough voice that cut into vowels, 'You're the co-conspirator? Where does he find you people? You want tea, do you?'

Severus wasn't sure which question he was expected to answer, but before he'd settled on it, Hetzel cut him off again, 'He firecalls and he says, oh, Lieven, we need your shop for a secret meeting, something about a child, a murderer, a dark lord, corrupt minister, all that, can I give my man the address? So I ask, hang on here, which one is he? The corrupt minister, the child?'

'The murderer,' Severus supplied smoothly.

'At least he's still got his sense of humour,' Hetzel addressed Albus. 'You let him keep that, huh? Good on you. Here, have tea, co-conspirator, he's got you travelling all over, I hear—sit—I swear, all these plots, always with the plots, all the secrecy and never any rest, and where's your war, I ask you?'

'It's coming,' Albus assured, his eyes twinkling.

'Ah, there's always a war coming,' Hetzel pushed Severus into a chair. 'There's always a war coming, but some of us will die before you ever get your war, won't we?'

'I'm afraid your arguments will fall on deaf ears,' Albus smiled. He was having entirely too much fun for how urgently he had spoken of this blasted tea party when he'd reached out to Severus on his mirror. 'Severus is nothing if not devoted to the cause.'

'Devoted to the cause! That's a thing for the young. Or for them so old, they have nothing better to be doing, eh? Anyone else devoted to the cause is a fanatic,' he jabbed a finger in Severus's direction. 'How old are you?'

'Thirty-two.'

'Still young enough. You'll get over it soon.'

Severus did not want to get over it any more than he wanted to sit here listening to the pair of them throwing jibes at each other, so he turned his sour gaze on Albus and pressed, 'You said you had news?'

'Indeed. The good news is that the Ministry does not yet seem to know Harry has left the country. I have managed to convince them he is with his family. The less happy news is that I have been attempting to schedule a meeting with Cornelius to try and come to an understanding outside of a courthouse, but he's been evasive. It seems someone else may be whispering in his ear.'

Hetzel sighed theatrically. 'They all get tired of their strings eventually, don't they? Political puppets?'

Severus ignored him. 'Who do you suppose it is?'

'Rumour has it Lucius Malfoy has been particularly close to the Minister lately,' Albus said to Severus, though his eyes seemed compelled to stray toward Hetzel even as he refused to indulge him. 'Do you think it possible he might have believed Harry's tale, and is trying to win back favour with his old master?'

'No.' That much, Severus did not doubt. 'No, to believe so would shatter Lucius' status quo, and as it stands, there is scarcely anything to believe. But he may have realised the very same thing you've told me: that Potter is an asset and that now is the perfect moment to seize him. Whatever way he may be used, for whichever faction, he will help garner power and that is something Lucius is expressly interested in. And if he can act in a way that may be reframed later to suit a narrative of loyalty to the Dark Lord—should there prove to be truth to Potter's story—all the better.'

Albus nodded slowly. 'I expect he might attempt to seize guardianship from me, then, and transfer it to an affiliated party, so he may have access to him when he needs it. At the moment, Harry's aunt and uncle remain guardians in name, but since I was made executor of Lily and James's will and all outstanding obligations, I have the wizarding law on my side to make any decisions without consulting them.'

'That's convenient for you,' Severus remarked, for once appreciative of Hetzel's raised eyebrow.

'Lily suggested it, in fact,' Albus's smile was canted. 'She understood that Harry would grow to be an important part of the war one way or another and believed it vital that he remain under the Order's protection.'

Severus laughed. 'She sold her child off to whichever party most closely aligned with her politics. A model mother.'

'Do not judge her too harshly for making difficult choices in a difficult time.'

'I will judge her however I please,' he said, meaning it. Dumbledore might have forgotten, but they'd had that in common, the two of them: she'd always been a fanatic, even if her allegiance travelled down roads Severus hadn't discovered until later; even if it had been an allegiance, in the end, chiefly to herself and to all she considered hers.

'Of course, I could help you find out exactly what it is Lucius is planning if I came back to the country and did my job,' Severus tried, though without much hope.

Albus looked at him like he knew Severus had little hope, like it was an inside joke just between the two of them. The communication of a secret understanding: he offered it up as bait every time, and the fact he did that, that was an inside joke, too—and in the end it didn't matter, because it always worked.

'No,' he said. 'This battle will play out in newspapers and in courtrooms, and you underestimate me, dear Severus, if you think I would allow Lucius Malfoy to talk over me. No, you are much more needed here. How is Harry, in any case?'

The sailor girl Severus had spoken to downstairs chose that moment to thunder into the room, book tucked under her armpit as she spouted something curt and urgent in Flemish. Hetzel answered her much the same, then turned back to them as he explained in English,

'My young cousin doesn't believe it very fair that she doesn't get to sit in and have tea with us.'

Albus, always the people pleaser, immediately poured her a cup and fussed over her book, too busy recruiting a new follower to mind Severus.

He caught Hetzel's eye as they waited to have Albus's limelight back, and an understanding passed quietly through the air.

'Forgive me, Severus,' he said finally. 'What was I—ah yes, of course, how is Harry? You've left him in Brussels, I suppose?'

'Yes. And he is fantastic. He's already wet the bed and fallen sick today; the child has no need for me, he needs his aunt to come and fuss over him. I am neither a nanny nor a tour guide.'

'That is concerning.' At least it had wiped the smile off his face. 'Though perhaps unsurprising, given the circumstances. And travel can take an additional toll on such a young boy—where are you staying in Brussels? Would it be possible to stay another day or two so he may recover?'

'No,' Severus said firmly. 'The hostel only had the beds available for the night. We'll go to Amsterdam tomorrow as planned and he'll have all of the afternoon to rest there—'

'The hostel!' Hetzel exclaimed. 'You're keeping him in a hostel in Brussels? The last place for a sick child! Are you really so cheap, Albus, that you're making your beloved assets bunk up with drifters and university students? I shouldn't be surprised, after all—'

'A hostel is indeed not the best place for convalescence,' Albus spoke over him. 'Severus, the cost of tourist accommodation does not lie within my expertise, so I hope you realise you should ask for more money if you need it?'

Severus felt red blotches coming up to tease at skin. 'I don't need any more of your money,' he hissed, knowing he was showing his hand, hating that he had to be so obvious.

He saw the shift in Albus's face: he didn't know whether to name it pity or disappointment, and couldn't decide which was worse. 'Severus, I hope I do not need to say what I wish to say. I imagine you know already and can be mature enough to adjust your outlook accordingly.'

Severus said nothing.

'My sister owns a place,' Hetzel spoke up suddenly. 'Just off Korenlei, in Muggle Ghent. Lovely views of the river, your own kitchen unit, tourists go mad for it. She's not got anyone staying the next few nights, they've cancelled and she's a lazy ass, she'd be happy if I found someone for it. She won't charge much if I tell her you're family friends.'

'Potter can't be near anyone with magic,' Severus shook his head. 'The tracker spell will be triggered if anyone casts in vicinity.'

'She's a, how do you call it—? A squib, that's it. And it's Muggle Ghent like I said. There won't be spells flying about.'

'I really think it best that we head to Amsterdam,' Severus argued weakly. He'd seen already the look passed between Hetzel and Albus. 'They may not be on our tail yet, but that is no reason to grow complacent. They may well be, and soon.'

'There's always a war coming,' Hetzel echoed wistfully. 'That is what I am saying, Albus. This is what happens to you people.'

'Would you give Severus the address, please, Lieven,' Albus said.

One day, Severus thought, he would learn how to say no to him.

'You have to learn how to say no,' Lily had told him once. It had been a summer afternoon, scorched and listless. He'd always hated summers most, because he had to be home; he'd always loved them most, because she had to be home, too.

'I say no all the time,' he'd said.

'Yes, but you need to learn to say a no that actually means no. Your no usually just means, not until you pester me about it for two more seconds.'

'Maybe it's the rest of the world that needs to learn to take my no for what it is.'

She'd laughed, pointing at her own chest. 'Am I the rest of the world?'

Yes, Severus thought to himself now as he followed the sailor girl back down the winding stairway, Korenlei address clutched in his hand. That was exactly what she had been.

He opened the door.

'Hey,' Sailor Girl said. 'Do you want some neuzekes?'

She was pointing to the little hill of cone-shaped jellies, each a tear of deep purple.

'We have different ones, but these here, they're just like muggle candy,' she said. 'No magic, so you can take them to Korenlei no problem.'

Lily had liked jelly.

'I'm fine,' he said. Sailor Girl answered with what he supposed was Flemish for goodbye.

It sounded like her name.


Sailor Girl: Hey, do you want to take some sweets for this kid you're travelling with?

Severus: I knew a woman once who liked sweets.

Sailor Girl: -okay then?

Thank you to everyone reading and reviewing! On Wednesday, Harry arrives in Korenlei. See you then.