Chapter Three: Bookcases and Building
The morning was loud. Even his flat felt as though it were screaming at him. Springs shrieked. The kettle wailed. Every creaky floorboard was a stabbing pain in his temple. The world was intent on carving out his brain and ramming it on a spike. He'd not bought painkillers yet, another thing on the list. So with his face sour and his clothes crumpled, Harry dragged himself out of the flat and upstairs into the shop.
The fairy wasn't there, thank God, but it wasn't long. Harry had barely even managed to sip at his tea when there was a loud thump at the door. It didn't stop.
"Alright, alright. I'm coming. Merlin's beard. Fine. I'm here." He yanked it open and saw the large man from the fake convenience store. He was dressed in a bright purple Hawaiian shirt, complete with pineapples and palm trees, and a white hat. A smirk made his beard twitch. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. Come in."
As soon as the door swung shut the hat fell to the floor and the fairy fluttered into Harry's vision. Houria tutted and sighed as he buzzed around the shop, his silent companion taking a seat in one of the large armchairs. His hazel eyes closed and he hummed contently, an odd sight from a man who had spent so much time glowering at Harry the last time they'd met.
"Nice place," the fairy grumbled indicating that he clearly thought otherwise. "Sturdy construction at least. And you were looking for shelving, correct?"
"And anything else you think needs doing."
"My dear Mr Potter, I could give you a list but I'm afraid neither of us has the time. Instead, I shall simply say that if you allow me some creative freedom I can guarantee you this shop will be better than your wildest dreams."
"For the right price." His funds were large but not unlimited. He'd left the majority of his parents' galleons in Gringotts, mainly for Teddy should he need them. Andromeda liked to argue, but that had been non-negotiable. Still, he wanted the place to look nice. People wouldn't stay in a shop that looked more akin to a haunted mansion than a bookstore.
"Naturally." There was that devilish grin again. "Anything you don't like?"
"Green," Harry said almost immediately. "And red. Castles. Lions, snakes, eagles, badgers."
"Not a wildlife lover."
"Just those four."
The fairy nodded, whether he understood the connotation or not, Harry wasn't sure. He didn't care either. That was a chapter in his life that had to stay firmly closed.
"Anything else?"
"I want it to be welcoming. Warm. Somewhere you'd sit and enjoy a good book for a while."
"I believed that you were making a shop, not a library."
"Where better to read than a shop where you can buy the sequel?"
The fairy hummed, clearly impressed by the implication. "And have you had any thoughts on the kitchen? If you're intent on making this shop a," he cast his eyes around the empty room, "warm space, might I suggest a place people may be able to buy refreshments and sustenance."
Harry hadn't thought about that. Sure, he'd cooked for the Dursleys but he wasn't a baker. He could make tea, but fancy coffees and hot chocolates and whatever else people liked to drink was a mystery to him. Still, the idea had a nice ring to it.
"That depends, how much is all of this going to cost?"
"Less than if you asked a No-Maj," Houria assured him. "Resources aren't the issue. Design, my time, and the fact that you're not what one would refer to as an architect. Let me see." He stroked his chin, casting his beady black eyes around the room and then finally settling on Harry. He imagined the effect was supposed to be unnerving. It wasn't. "For the shop, a hundred. With the kitchen and my additional recommendations, between three and four."
It was more than Harry would have liked, but if it meant he could be up and running before the following summer then it was a deal he was going to have to take. "Nearer three and it's a deal."
"Three-fifty."
"Three-twenty-five."
The fairy smiled and offered a tiny hand which Harry, trying not to feel ridiculous, shook.
"I'll make the arrangements, provided you would be willing to supply some assistance. I am talented, Mr Potter, but my magical abilities are not endless and Jackson." The man by the window grunted. "Let's just say that his talents do not lie in the magical arts."
"He can see you though."
The fairy's eyes became cold. "No-Majs can see fairies, Mr Potter."
"Not for what they actually look like," Harry pointed out. "No offence."
"None taken. You are right, of course. We appear to them as they wish to see us. All charming faces and glittering wings. It sounds dreadful if you ask me, but they rarely do." The fairy settled for the first time on the counter, crossing one short leg over the other and casting his gaze to the man in the armchair. "Jackson, as you rightly deduced, sees me as I am. As I do him. I do not wish to presume what it is like in Britain, but I must say that Squibs are not treated with kindness on our shores."
"You'd be right to presume," Harry admitted. It was one of the many reasons he'd wanted to leave. After everything he'd fought for, after the lives that had been lost, the same old bigotries had remained. Purebloods stayed powerful, muggleborns were ignored unless they made people see them. Hermione had only managed to land a decent job because of her relationship with Harry, not because of her talents - although they were happily taken advantage of. It was a self-perpetuating cycle and one that Harry, despite all the Wizemgamot meetings and the money he'd poured into charitable foundations, couldn't stop. Just another regret to add to the pile.
"And yet the world spins inexorably on. Justice always has been in rather short supply."
"Then let's make what little good we can here. And until Congress let me know, you're stuck with another non-magical helper."
The fairy's expressed soured, but he didn't renege on their deal. They made good work of the ground floor. The fairy's magic transformed the shop in hours, compared to what a muggle worker would've done in weeks. The pale wood floor that Harry thought he'd polished upon his arrival practically gleamed at a click of Houria's fingers. With a sprinkling of actual fairy dust, tiny tables sprang up from nothing and bookshelves slowly twisted and grew around them. Some slotted themselves against walls, while others Jackson and Harry moved carefully into position.
As they did so the plain walls bloomed with colour. The entire spectrum of the rainbow spread and then vanished as Houria flitted between ideas. He buzzed around them, sometimes perching on the very shelves Harry and Jackson were carrying, muttering as he did so.
After another dazzling array of colours, he landed on the counter, his white pupils flashing from side to side, taking in the space around them.
"Muggle interior design is aggravatingly drab," he bemoaned as Harry and Jackson set down the final bookcase, which jutted out from one wall and thanks to Houria's magic was double the depth and could, therefore, accommodate books on either side. "Plain colours. No expression. No personality. Life is meaningless without flair."
"How about a tree? It could go there." He pointed to the wall opposite the counter, where Houria had created a mixture of half-height and full-sized bookcases to allow for decoration. "Maybe it could reach across the whole wall."
The fairy considered this and then clicked his fingers. The image of dark wood grew from the middle of the wall and then slowly at Houria's command it began to grow, stretching behind bookcases. Leaves grew along branches and though Harry had asked for no green, he had to admit the effect was stunning.
"Then blue here, behind the counter and on the other walls. Have the tree as a kind of feature. Not dark. Kind of, I don't know. Bright. But not light."
"The phrase you are so desperately searching for is 'royal blue', Mr Potter," Houria informed him with disdain, but Harry could tell the fairy liked the idea. Even Jackson was not glowering by the time they stopped for cups of tea and a break to appreciate their work. It was all coming together. The lights actually stayed on instead of dying intermittently and the bell actually rang. It was amazing. Now all he needed was books, customers and someone to help him out if he was going to make use of the kitchen. So, nothing really.