Chapter 3: Escape to Black Manor
"Names, once they are in common use, quickly become mere sound, their etymology being buried, like so many of the earth's marvels, beneath the dust of habit." – Salaman Rushdie
When Harry's feet touched the ground he could only the warmth of his servant's hand on his arm. In a flash, the warmth was gone, replaced by an overwhelming coldness that spread through his body. On instinct, Harry lay down and pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to escape from the cold dampness of the room. He tried to breathe in, but the damp air suffocated him, shrivelling his lungs with its intense feeling of dread. Harry chocked and heaved, trying hard to gulp a lungful of fresh air. 'Something is wrong.' Harry thought to himself.
In the dim light Harry could see his butler getting up from his knees. He looked down to his master, blue eyes steady and unreadable. Harry opened his mouth, but dread filled his throat. He could speak. The genie cocked his head and walked away. Harry tried to reach up to him, but his arms failed pathetically and fell down in front of him lifelessly. Harry remembered the accounts of Jhadar Ashwald,, and how the very same genie killed him. His hand began to tremble from both coldness and trepidation.
'My butler is trying to kill me.' With that last thought, Harry Potter lost consciousness and began to seize.
The sound of a crackling fireplace jolted Harry Potter awake from his nightmarish vision. He gasped, gulping in the fresh warm air that his lungs needed so dearly. He was lying on a large dusty old couch, with the furniture haphazardly pushed close towards the fireplace. After his heart rate clamed down enough, Harry pushed over the ornate fur blanket that was laid over him and stomped over angrily in search of his genie butler.
His anger subsided when he saw how eerie the room was. Every piece of furniture surrounding him are all covered in white sheets, with thick coating of dust settled on top of them. They look undisturbed for a number of years. The grand room looked eerie, and the light from the fireplace didn't help to improve the atmosphere either. He explored the room, noticing how the shine of opulent ornaments has been dulled by neglect and time.
At first Harry thought he was back in Grimmauld Place, the room had that same aura of neglect and nobility. However, the lack of sound and light tells him he is in a place far more… ancient. He examined the rest of the room curiously, trying to piece together where he is. Beneath the dust he found intricate tapestries faded in colors, exquisite sculptures of dragons and snakes, and empty portrait frames embellished with precious metals. Even the couch that he was resting on looked like a piece of art. Confounded, Harry came into the conclusion that he is in the home of a very rich, albeit very lazy, baron.
After a while, Harry decided that he had wasted enough time in the room and needed to find his butler for some explanation. He opened the grand door, the cold marble handle sending an unwanted chill down his spine. When he looked out, he was met with a long and dark hallway, with a light glowing at the very end of it. Harry shut the door with a loud bang, breathing rapidly to calm his racing heart. He speculated that his insubordinate butler is on the end of the hallway, but he would rather not walked into darkness and experienced that suffocating dampness again.
So he sprinted. He kept his eyes shut and his head down, ignoring whatever commotion that sounded on his sides. A shrill crash came from his left, and he was sure that he knocked over some thousand-year-old vase. Screw that ancient-and-probably-priceless vase. He could cast a reparo on the vase but he cant cast a reparo on himself. So Harry kept his head down and ran until light flooded his eyes.
He found himself standing in a kitchen of some sort. Like the rest of the house, dust too blanketed every surface and hid its features from him. Harry could make out the rough shape of a stove and a massive table. At the end of the table sat his genie butler, hunching over a glowing pit of fire.
The genie looked up from his ministration to acknowledge him. "I see you've awakened." A familiar voice said dryly to him.
Harry took a deep breath so he could started to shout but stopped himself midway. The whole situation was so completely mad that the boy couldn't find the exact words to lash at the man. So he settled for a sarcastic laugh and a pointed look. "How observant of you." Harry said, his lips stretched thin in anger. He walked over to his servant and took a seat next to him.
The genie raised his eyebrow but said nothing. He ignored the boy and continued putting in logs into a large circular hole in the ground. It was a massive thing of coal and wood, with its diameter stretching over five meter and fire creeping lazily inside. The rim of the hole is lined with blacked stones, an evidence of how powerful the fire could be if it is build properly. Finally, Harry was too curious to ignore his butler any longer and decided to give in. "What is that?" Harry asked, breaking the silence. He took a long stick from a pile of dry wood and poked the glowing amber.
Without any warning, flames flared up temperamentally at him, licking the side of his hand. Harry yelped and dropped the stick into the pit, having it consumed and turned into ash. The fire hisses and growled, spitting out flakes of amber before settling down into a slow glowering blaze.
The genie looked at Harry like he was an idiot. "She," he said sharply. "-is the Black Manor's Hearth. Heart and protector of the family." He took his master's hand gently to inspect the wounds. "She is the reason we are not suffocated by the pressure and the cold."
Harry rolled his eyes at the arrogant tone. "I didn't mean to insult it-her." He quickly changed his tone when the flame grew higher. The genie chuckled and held a damp cloth to Harry's skin. Harry wondered how thoughtless the genie must've been to be able to summon a cloth to alleviate his master's burns, but is unable to procure a set of decent clothes to replace that old pillowcase he is wearing.
The genie laughed. "Oh you didn't Master. You see, this manor has been abandoned for a good century or so, and She is rather confused to be awaked after so long." His Butler showed his own burns. "I rushed to light her up so you wouldn't suffocate. But it seems like even I couldn't escape her wrath." He said lightheartedly.
"Ah so that's why you went away earlier." Harry mussed out loud. "I thought you were going to k-…" He let his words hung awkwardly in the air, stopping himself before he could bring up his suspicion. The genie pretended to not see the flash of uneasiness on his master's face and focused on cleaning his master's injuries. Harry saw the burns on his servant's hand and felt bad that he would think badly of someone who saved his life. "Thank you." Harry said firmly. "Thank you for saving me eh…"
"Its Freak my Lord." The servant offered his name, keeping his eyes trained to the ground. Harry felt a pang of guilt and shame, remembering all of the times Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia called him the same name for simply having magic.
"No." He said firmly. "I will not call you that name. Like I said, it was a mistake." Calling the genie that would make him as bad as his horrible relatives. "So because it's a mistake, you can choose your own name if you like."
"My.. own name?" The genie looked up to his master, expecting malicious words to come out and dashed his hope. However, there was only sincerity in those deep emerald eyes.
"…then Alexander?" he asked tentatively
"If you wanted." Harry beamed, glad that the genie is taking up on his offer and began to open up to him. It lessens the guilt of naming him 'Freak'.
The genie's grateful eyes turned into a mischievous glee and he began to drawl out the names of emperors of old from A to Z.
"… should I just re-name you again so you can shut up?" Harry said in expiration, laying his head down on the table. For an hour the genie has not stopped reciting names and Harry was getting to the point where he is considering stupefying himself to sleep.
The man stopped midway in pronouncing Xanthus, a mythical horse from the Greek mythology, and smiled gratefully to his master. "Of course! My apologies Master. It would be my honor to receive your chosen name." He said, bowing his head ever so slightly.
"Really?" Harry sat up, surprised at the man's eagerness. He never thought that the genie would take his suggestion. "Then… how about Hagrid?" He suggested, slightly embarrassed as he mentioned the name. "He's my very first friend." A small sad smile playing on his lips as he remembered that stormy October night when he was rescued from his abusive relatives.
"Hagrid…?" The genie muttered, letting the familiar name roll in his tongue. Then recollection came to him and he crinkled his nose in disgust. "You wanted to name me after the half giant? I think not." He huffed, as if saying the name has tainted him. "Alexander, or Victorinox seems more fitting. Big powerful name." The genie said smugly.
So for the next hour they continue to argue about names, with the genie completely rejecting each and every suggestion that Harry offered until the boy reached his limit.
"I am your master, and if your master offered a simple name like Stevens or Smiths, you will shut the hell up and say yes!" After that final authoritative shove, the butler reluctantly agreed.
"Very well. My name shall be Stevens." The genie said with finality. "Or Smiths. I really don't know, Smiths is simply too-"
"Just. Choose. One." Harry croaked in desperation. He is so close to pounding his head on the table.
"Fine." The butler mumbled unhappily. "Stevens."
"Fine. Great. Fantastic."
There was a few tense seconds of silence before pandemonium began.
"On second thought-"
"No second thought."
"But I-"
"Your name is Stevens."
"But Alexander is-"
"- is not your name."
"But my Lord-"
"Don't argue with me Stevens."
"Fine."
"Fine."
There was another uncomfortable moment of awkward silence. Fearing a new complaint that would start another hour-long argument, Harry quickly coughed and changed the topic to distract his brooding butler. "So… Where are we anyways?"
Stevens face changed from a sullen child to a mischievous one. "We're in one of the Black properties my Lord, the forgotten Black Manor." He said, clearly enjoying being a know-it-all in front of his master.
"Forgotten?" Harry laughed uneasily. "How can someone just forget a manor that they happen to inherit?" He laughed uneasily. However, deep inside, Harry wondered just how many properties did the Black family owned that they can ignore a manor. 'Sirius must've been loaded.'
Stevens cleared his throat and straightened his back as he began to recite the Black family history. "Well first of all, the people who tried to come in and inspect this place are always suffocated to death."
"Ah, because of the ghost?" Harry whispered, looking around as if he didn't want the ghost to hear him.
Stevens laughed at his master who is apparently still afraid of ghosts. "Well no. Its just that because this manor is underwater, the hearth needs to-"
"Wait a minute. Under-what?"
"Water. This Manor is build under water. Lake to be precise. The Black Lake."
"You mean the one in Hogwarts's grounds?" Harry asked skeptically. "Hogwart's lake?"
"Yes!" Stevens laughed. "Silly Master, the Grounds has always been and will forever be Black's territory. Hogwarts is merely a temporary tenant." He said flippantly. Sensing his master's disbelief, he added, "Why else would we call it the Lake 'Black Lake' when the water is green?"
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the Property of JK Rowling, I am not gaining any profit from writing this fanfiction.
AN: Hello again! Thank you for reading this chapter. Finally the Genie has a name! I tried to express Steven's personality through his dialogs with Harry, I hope it comes through well (even through the atmosphere of the chapter seemed to changed 360 degrees hahaha). I'll try and improve my pacing with the next chapter ^^. As always, all reviews are welcomed, be it positive, negative, or flames.
See you next chapter!