A/N: Reviews as of late remind me of a famous line from Chinatown:
Noah Cross to Jake Giddes: You may think you know what's going on around here - but you don't.
:
Harry Potter and the Wizards of Malta
Chapter 14.
'Rows forty through twenty nine, boarding flight five oh six', came the amplified voice of the mousy flight attendant.
Instantly there was a rustling of bags and a shuffling of feet as a small crowd began queuing up to board those rows. Penny's eyes remained fixed on a magazine and didn't seem to notice. To her side and like two guarding bulldogs were Jimbo and Harley. Both sat ramrod straight wearing expressions of strength and defiance. Jimbo, barely able to fit into the narrow armed chair, had found another outrageously printed shirt and was watching ominously over the crowd. At any moment, Harry would expect to see Penny reach into her oversized handbag and retrieve a little doggy treat for the two.
Marco and Aldo had accompanied the band to the Leonardo da Vinci International, but when Harry assured them everything would be fine, the two wizards left them to their own resources at the huge airport. Rome had been a good stop in almost every way. The band performances had been well received and sold out every night. The city had been full of safe and pleasant diversions.
The band would be arriving at the Charles De Gaulle just before evening light. It was an oddly timed flight, but Penny had explained it was the only booking the band could arrange together. Occasionally she would lift her head to glance his way. She kept her distance now, at least in public after their day together at the circus. In moments like these when boredom came sneaking in, he wondered what that meant.
'All rows boarding – repeat all rows boarding flight five oh six'.
‡‡‡‡‡
Penny and her immediate entourage loaded into a small mini-bus from the Charles De Gaulle. Glad to be away from the huge airport, it's rude staff, and useless concierge, all were quiet as the bus made it's way through the evening traffic toward the hotel. The flight had been delayed and it was well after dark by the time the bus left the airport. The city view was pretty at night but limited and Harry always found this particular juncture of air travel boring to the extreme. 'Hotel Lancaster' was emblazoned on heavy wrought iron framed awnings as the mini-bus finally came to a stop in front of the hotel. Jimbo and Harley got off the bus first and made sure the bellmen took proper care of Penny's baggage.
Because of the late flight, the band would not be gathering for dinner. 'Everyone fend for themselves', Penny went on to say. The group displayed a round of sour faces and then queued up in front of attendants desk to check-in. Beatty and Ace signed in first and made off to find the bar. Harry made a point to check in last. His bags were, after all, nearly a laughing matter. By design, he waited until the bellhops were all busy and then grabbed his own bags and headed off toward Room 316.
The Lancaster was a smaller hotel than many, but staffed with helpful and friendly employees and lavishly furnished. Unlike the bigger chain hotels that suffered you through any inconvenience and then tried to rectify the problem by offering a discount for the next stay, the 'Lancaster' got it right the first time.
The room was small but comfortably cozy and attractively decorated. He tossed his bags on the bed and peeled off the jacket and threw it over a chair. He remembered to go back and check the mobile phone. A little LED was blinking on the phone. He unlocked the phone with a four digit key code and saw the Text icon was displaying it's notice. He clicked on the icon to find the message from Hermione.
Harry – got new info on the wizard in question.
Call when you can.
There would be plenty of time to call Hermione tomorrow morning. Hopefully the news would relate to the band's show in Paris. He'd been picking at a fingernail all day. Some of the best wandsmen in Europe called Paris home. If members of this mysterious Order were Parisian locals he might have his hands full, he thought.
A small electric cooler was hidden behind a door between the dresser and wardrobe. Opening the cooler, a bottled water sat in the door shelf, temptingly. Grabbing the bottled water and twisting off the top, he kicked back in a large Chesterfield and took a few moments to recall Mary Ann's story.
According to Mary Ann, Penny had visited the Catacombs the weekend he went back to London. She had definitely been to the Catacombs, the journal verified this much. And... she had asked him if he planned to go back to London. It would seem she was looking for another opportunity to slide out, and unnoticed, again. It looked as though Penny was searching for something. And it would also appear her search had stepped on the toes of this enigmatic Order.
Checking the watch, there would be enough time to check the grounds before grabbing a quick bite. Dragging out of the chair, he reached for the jacket when a shy tapping on the door earned his full attention. The door didn't have a peephole. Grabbing the black wand and slipping it up the sleeve of his shirt, he clicked open the latch and peered out the crack as the door slowly opened.
Catching a glimpse of shiny Raven hair, he pulled door wide open. Standing there like the coy schoolgirl, Penny had a childlike expression and clutched a small handbag with both hands. She was wearing heels and skinny jeans, which applied to her was a curious misnomer. A grey silk button-up blouse set set things off really well. Harry stood there curious, with his left hand on the door and bracing himself on the door frame with the right.
"Penny?" he managed at length.
"Can I treat you to dinner?" she asked, sheepishly.
Harry paused to consider the invitation.
"Well... uh, yeah, for sure."
"The food downstairs is really good," she added optimistically.
"Let me get a jacket," he said, trying to hide the wand he had hidden up his sleeve.
Grabbing up the jacket from the chair, he pocketed the mobile and the door key. Covertly, he slid the black wand back it's pocket before adjusting his lapels. Penny, getting over her shyness, was standing in the doorway with her shoulder leaning against the frame and weight on the crossed foot.
"Where's Jimbo and Harley tonight?" he had to ask.
"They spotted the little pub down the street as we came in. I couldn't talk them out of the pie and mash special," she said.
"No – that would be hard to pass up," he added, facetiously.
"The food downstairs would be wasted on them anyway," she said.
"It's that good, huh?"
"Well, you must be hungry. And I thought to myself, Harry must want to go," she explained as he locked the door behind him.
They entered the 'La Table Du Lancaster' and looked over the attractive courtyard garden eatery. In a moment or two the Maitre d' whisked over to greet them.
"Good evening," he greeted pleasantly.
"Good evening. You do have a table for two?" Penny quipped and the Maitre d' managed a stiff grin.
The man lead them over to a table on the edge of the property, parked under a nice ornamental tree. A young man came up to the table a few moments later. He sat a wine menu on the table and waited for Penny to grab it up.
"Nous avons un vin régional spécial disponible," he said, invitingly.
Penny took one look and handed the menu back to the waiter.
"Ce sera parfait," she replied and then focused on Harry. The waiter nodded and disappeared.
"I'm excited about Paris. It's been a while, you know," she said, resting her chin on hands doubled into a fist.
"Yeah, same here," he added, dryly and Penny laughed.
"It's just another job for you isn't it?"
Harry considered the question. He canted his head in reflection and paused to look at Penny when the waiter arrived with a bottle and two glasses. Meticulously the waiter canted the large wine glasses and poured, first a glass for Penny and then one for himself.
"Douir de," the waiter exclaimed and disappeared as quick as he came.
"I've never been on a job like this," Harry replied and sampled the wine. "But yes, it is a job."
The waiter came back with a large menu for each and laid them on the table with exaggerated deliberation.
"Comment se fait le vin? Bonne?" asked the waiter.
"Oui, très bon," replied Penny and returned her attention to Harry.
"I'm sure you'll get to like it," she added and picked up the menu. Harry nodded and reached for the menu. He was more than a little shocked to see the menu consisted of one side of selections for women and the other side for men.
"See anything here you like?" she asked, rhetorically.
"Sure, I've always wanted snails," he quipped.
"Would you rather have pie and mash?" she asked, slyly.
"And eat with Jimbo? Are you kidding?"
Again, she laughed. "You don't care for Jimbo – do you?"
Harry smiled. "I'm sure I'll love the guy – right after I kick his arse."
"Oh – he's not that bad. Is he?"
Harry just chuckled and studied the menu. The two entrees on the gents side were: Pan fried foie gras, radish preserved in orange and Fillet of poultry from Bresse, black truffle.
The women's side included: Dublin bay prawns from Brittany, berries jus and Seabass roasted with roses flowers.
"I think I like the women's side," said Harry.
"That sounds like a personal problem," she replied while studying the a la carte.
"No, it's the Seabass. Do I have to order from the men's side?"
"I'll tell you what – let's switch. I'll have the foie gras," she said as if solving a major problem.
"Are you sure? I can live with the filet of poultry."
"Absolutely sure – foie gras it is."
The waiter finally came around to take the order. Penny giggled at Harry's attempt to pronounce the French.
"You haven't mentioned the venue," Harry asked, picking away a huge flake of Seabass.
"No, I guess not," she said. "It's the Elysee Montmarte – a bigger venue."
"A security nightmare?"
"I hope not," she replied, defensively.
"Have you worked there before?"
"Yes, once," she said and popped a forkful of foie gras into her mouth.
Harry wondered if there was any way to tactfully bring up the subject of the journal without ruining the ambiance of the evening. There would be no way, of course. But Penny's safety was only half of this assignment. Investigating the attack on Jerry and Ron was the other, and growing bigger, side of this assignment. Still, it seemed like a shame to bring it up. If he brought it up at all, he would wait until she finished her dinner.
After twenty five minutes of chitchat they were almost done with the wine. Penny looked at the empty bottle and glanced at Harry for any clue, but his stoic expressions told her nothing. He kept reminding himself why he was there when finally Penny took notice of his inward and taciturn mood.
"Is something the matter?" she finally asked.
"Uh? Oh, no – it's nothing," he replied, picking at the troublesome fingernail.
"So what's on your mind then?"
"Ah, it's just Paris I guess – no it's something else," he said, shaking his head.
"What then?" she asked and tossed her serviette on the table.
"A couple of things – and I hate to ask now, but... I have to."
"Okay then, what?"
"It's about the weekend you went out on your on," he said, tactfully, but not mentioning the journal.
"Is that all?" she asked, slowly and deliberate.
"You were seen, the weekend I was in London. Out by yourself – by the Catacombs."
Penny's expression turned cold but not over reactionary.
"And you wanted to know about my next trip to London. So... what's this all about?"
"Some of this is very personal. What if I choose not to answer?"
"You know I can't work with you if hold back like this," he said, firmly shaking his head. "And you agreed when we first set this up – you wouldn't go out on your on, without telling me."
Penny sat there, biting her lip, weighing her options, but refusing to speak.
"You've got to tell me, but it's more than that. I really hope you'll tell me, because I want to work with you," he continued.
"How much do you know about me? I mean the stuff that's not public?" she asked and folded her arms across her chest.
"Not much really. That you worked for two other bands before the Bells of Elysium. Things like that."
"Things like that?" she repeated back.
Harry nodded. "Yes... so, tell me. What about the Catacombs? And how does all this tie into the Order?"
"I can tell you about the Catacombs, but I don't know anything about this Order," she said.
"Okay.."
"Well, as you can imagine – things haven't always been so great for me," she said and paused for a sup of wine. "At one time, my life was a lot like yours. Maybe worse."
"Really?"
"Yes, for a while in my life after losing my mother – I never knew my father," she said, shaking her head. "I was living in an orphanage. That was a year or so before Hogwarts. I didn't know what life had in store for me, but it didn't look too good. My mother had given me this book – a silly book called 'Puzzles of the world'. It was a bit like 'Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego' . After my mother died and I wound up in the orphanage, I swore to myself to make good with my life and to find all those faraway places in the book. And I dream sometimes, if I were to lose it all," she said and looked around her, "then I'd be back in the orphanage."
Harry sat there quiet and unmoving.
"I was happy with my adoptive family and when they sent me to voice and dance schools I was breaking my arse to do the very best I could. The last thing I wanted was to be sent back to the orphanage. I know it's a crazy story, and it was a long time ago, but I remember it as if were yesterday. Look – I won't slip away from you again. I promise. You can go with me if you like. Just don't expect me to explain all the weird shit I do."
Harry dipped his head in consideration. The story was so strange it would be impossible to make it up on the fly.
"Okay, what about London – you asked me if I was going back. Was that so you could slip out?" he asked.
She paused and looked reluctant to answer.
"Part of it," she replied at length. "But not all. You haven't been comfortable on this trip. I thought – I was worried , I guess, if you had someone back there and you left, then you might not come back. I just want you to be comfortable Harry. That's all."
Harry nodded. "I see," he replied.
"Well, if you're satisfied, I'll say goodnight," she announced and began to rise.
"Penny..." he called out but she out of the chair and turning away.
"Penny, please."
She stopped and turned to face him. "What is it Harry?"
"I just wanted to say – it's..."
"I know Harry," she injected. "It's your job."
‡‡‡‡‡
"Hermione – good morning."
"Good morning Harry – alright?"
"Couldn't be better. I got your text."
"Yeah, I found a bit more on your friend Lasaurus."
"Anything that could help me in Paris?"
"I doubt it. Damn you – always getting the best travel..."
"So, what about Lasaurus?"
"Lasaurus was mentioned in the Goblin wars. Says he wasted a ton of them."
"The Goblin wars – that was over a lifetime ago."
"Yeah, well a lot of references suggests he's been around for a while."
"How? How could anyone stay around that long?"
"No Idea. Nicolas Flamel managed it."
"Yeah, but Flamel's no longer around to tell us how, is he?" he asked.
"No – I don't think so."
"What about Ron? Have you talked to Ron?"
There was silence for a few moments on the other end.
"Yes – I have – and he's certain the dreams were real," she said at length.
"About Lasaurus – about him splitting?"
"Yes. He says he's certain Harry."
"That's good work Hermione. Keep at it. See if you can get some more."
"Dam-it – I knew you'd say that."
‡‡‡‡‡
The Elysee Montmarte sat majestically on the corner of Boulevard de Rochechouart and Rue de Steinerque. The once grand building was now resurfaced with tacky extensions and billboards and squalid in appearance. But it was a large facility and a welcome relief from the smaller sized venues they were accustomed to working in.
The band had arrived a hour earlier and Harry had received no word from Penny. Mary Ann had walked by as coolly as a February breeze. It didn't appear as if he was very high on their list of people to be friendly with. But that's what happens when you ask women tough questions, he thought.
The band had completed the sound check and was ready to take the stage an hour early. There would be no back-up band on this night and it would be a longer evening for Penny and crew. He already missed the smiling faces of Marco and Aldo and the extra wands they brought with them.
The show kicked off on a stage much smaller than the Orion in Rome. Rob, Beatty, and Penny were crammed into a much smaller space, but Penny was quite inventive and exhibited some cute spinning moves Harry had never seen before. Jimbo and Harley took positions off the stage but there little to fear from this timid and reserved crowd. If the crowd didn't warm up to the band or exhibit a little more life then Paris could be a disappointment.
After avoiding him for most of the show, Penny finally made an attempt to gather his attention before taking her last break. She looked his way, waved, and disappeared behind the dressing room door. He worked his way through the backstage crowd to tap on the door lightly.
"Harry?" she called out. "Is that you?"
"Yes."
"Well come in," she said and Harry pushed open the door. Standing, in front of a mirror, she was drying her face and reapplying makeup. As usual, Penny was strictly professional about the visits in her dressing room. Because the band had so little time during breaks, she would simply conduct business discussions in her dressing room at the expense of modesty. She always had a firm and professional countenance and was never coquettish or girlish in the slightest.
"What's up?" he asked and grabbed a chair in the small dressing room.
"Tomorrow's my day out. I want you to go with me," she said, finishing off with the towel on her neck and shoulders.
"Sure – no problem," he replied and nodded.
"I'm planning to leave pretty early. I'll meet you tomorrow in the cafe at eight," she said, sternly and pointing a finger for emphasis before reaching behind her for the hooks on the black bra.
"I'll see you tomorrow then," he said and turned away before her bra dropped.
‡‡‡‡‡
Eight o'clock the next morning came all to early. The light windcheater was almost too much for the warm weather, but it was the only casual garment that would hide the wands. He was almost out the door, when at the last moment he changed to a frumpy Tennis shirt with long tails and stuffed the wands into his waistbands. Peeking furtively in the dining room where breakfast was served, he spotted the Raven haired witch reading something on her mobile.
Coffee was already on the table, so he turned a cup over and began to help himself.
"Morning Harry," she greeted with out looking up from the phone. "You're late."
"Morning – so where to today – not another circus I hope," he quipped and raised the cup.
Slowly, her head came up from the mobile. "Of course not. We're going to the Louvre."
"Well, that might not be so bad," he replied with a nod.
"Shouldn't be bad at all – if you give it a chance."
He noticed the leather journal was on the table. She was wearing an airy white silk top with elbow length sleeves, long tails and cotton black leggings. With glove leather ballet flats she looked more comfortable then a person had the right to be.
"How long will be be out – do you think?" he asked and sipped the coffee.
"Why – you have something you need to get back to?"
He thought about the question and looked her over again.
"No."
They entered the Louvre through the showy glass pyramid that sat in the center courtyard of the once great palace. Through a winding staircase Harry followed the Raven haired bandleader who was growing more giddy and excited as each step that took them deeper into the codicils of the museum.
To say the place was huge was an understatement. Thirty five thousand works of art in the form of paintings, sculptures, and the like were distributed along its great halls and levels. Through the Daru staircase and on to the Sully wing they looked over hundreds of paintings and Egyptian antiquities. The Richeliew wing contained tons more nineteenth century works from Rubens to Rembrandt and Jan Vermeer and more. The lavishly decorated apartments of Napoleon III were perfectly preserved in this wing.
In the crowded Denon wing Harry stuck closely to Penny's side as she waited along the queue to examine the Mona Lisa. As the Denon wing led to the intersection with the Sully wing, the two joined at a huge atrium, which held the statue called 'Winged Victory'. Unable to hide her excitement, Penny would rush to view the next exhibit and then pause to look back and make sure Harry was following. Throughout the day Penny had never stopped to write anything the mysterious journal that she kept clutched tightly to her breast.
As she brusquely jetted from one exhibit to the next with childlike innocence, he could feel his feeble layer of professional insulation melting away. She had him now, bang dead to rights, and a hollow feeling in his guts was beginning to hurt.
Past lunch and well into the afternoon, Penny was losing a little of that bounce in her step. Both agreed it was time for a break. Finding a cafe to serve a bit of lunch was not a problem. The 'Cafeteria de la pyramide' was close by. Finding a seat was a problem. Penny found a table close to the bar and took a load off. Harry braved the crowd to get sandwiches and drinks.
"It's all been great, but I didn't find what I'm looking for," she finally admitted while she ripped the clingfilm off her sandwich.
"So, what is it you're looking for?"
She smiled and looked away but didn't answer.
"We'll have to go to the Louvre-Lens," she demanded.
"Is that around here?" he asked and reached for the soft drink.
She shook her head. "No – it's not."
"Well – we're running out of daylight," he said and motioned to the fading light outside. "How far is it?"
"It's in the north of France."
"We'll have to go some other day then," he argued.
She shook her head again. "We may not have the time – besides you could get us there," she said and pointed at him to suggest apparition.
"Oh, no," he replied and shook his head. "That's not a good idea – and it's too far.
"Why not? You've done it plenty."
"We'd need a map," he argued.
"We can find one – that's easy," she said, encouragingly.
Harry shook his head one more time and in doing so spotted a man sitting a few tables over, watching them very closely. He turned up the cup and finished the drink. Wadding the sandwich paper into a ball, he gathered the remains of the meal for a trip to the dustbin.
"Let's find the map. We won't have much time," he said and Penny smiled and bounced up out of the chair.
In a nearby foyer they found a barely adequate map among the brochures for the Louvre-Lens. The positioning would be rough but it might do.
"We'll have to find an isolated place to disapparate from," he said softly. "With the crowd that might be difficult."
She nodded, approvingly and dug up another map of the museum out her handbag.
"We should be able to slip away from the gardens," she said pointed to the area on the map.
He nodded and then tried to keep up with Penny as bounced up the steps of the Pyramid entrance and out toward the gardens. Huge hedges ran out like spokes of a wheel from La Terrasse da Pomone. There were breaks in the hedges to allow mobility from one side to the next. Unfortunately, tourists were hanging around the grounds in every nook and cranny. Agreeing to an idea from Penny, they pretended to be lovers. Penny feinted a passionate kiss and a young couple grabbed their little girl and left in a hurry. This was something the French understood and several others departed quietly.
"Better go now," instructed Harry and the two joined hands to disappear from the privacy of the hedges with a little zip and a pop.
They reassembled corporeally in a little garden just a short distance from the Louvre-Lens.
"We're lucky," he said. "It's a wonder we're anywhere close."
"Let's go," she replied and tore off toward the museum.
The Louvre-Lens was a scaled down version of it's big brother in Paris. Once inside Penny was zipping around as before, but this time she paused by a directory of exhibits. She studied the directory for a few moments and then double checked something in the leather journal.
"Level two," she announced dryly and took off for the nearest stairs.
Growing weary of following her, he paused to look the place over. He could drag up to level two a little later, he reasoned.
"I think I'll wait here," he said before she got out of range and plopped down on a comfortable looking bench.
She nodded and quickly continued toward the second level. While giving his feet a well deserved rest, he took the time to look around the museum and practice his powers of observation. He chuckled at the thought of Ms Rosemarkie and her tedious lectures at the Ministry. He gloated a little at his good fortune. Accompanying a beautiful woman in Paris was a damned sight better than being stuck in Ms Rosemarkie's lecture room. Guests wandered to and fro, pausing by the exhibits to mumble something to a friend or family member, but there nothing unusual about any of them.
The sight of the man's face brought a chill over him that rippled across his back. It took a few seconds to register and it had been a long day, but there was no mistaking the face. This was an obscure museum along the northern border of France. There should be no familiar faces there. The familiar face disappeared around a corner. Jumping to his feet, he hurried as quickly as he could toward the second level.
Penny was no longer bouncing but milling about as contented as a Cheshire cat that just swallowed a mouse. She looked up to see him heading her way and smiled warmly.
"I've got what I need," she said and motioned toward the leather journal she cradled against her breast.
"Good – cause I think we need to go."
She paused to measure the urgency of his expression.
"Really? Is there some kind of trouble?"
"I'm not sure, but the man at the cafe – back at the Louvre..."
"Yeah..."
"The one I thought may have been eavesdropping?"
"Yeah..."
"He's here."
"That's not good – is it?"
"No. Not at all," he said as they hurried toward the exit.
They smiled and nodded to the door attendant as they left the building. There was a narrow lamp-lit alley to traverse before the walkway opened up in the small garden beyond. They were hurrying along when they noticed footsteps between them and the garden.
Penny and Harry paused to look, and three men walked into the dim light. Each man was wearing an identical robe. The material was more refined and a cream colored stripe ran down the front. But then, what the hell, it was France. Things were always a little more refined in France.
They quickly turned back toward the museum when a hand went inside the robe and came out with a wand. But now, between them and the door were more footsteps. Three more hooded wizards were headed their way and they were trapped.
Harry turned to look at Penny. There was no look of panic, just the dull expression of someone who knew they were going to die. He looked to the left and then to the right. The fingers of the left hand were burning to feel the black wand.
He turned again to look at the beautiful raven haired witch and knew there was only one way.
"Take my hand," he said and reached behind him.
When he felt her hand in his, he squeezed and focused on the roof of the Lancaster. He saw a flash of light, a curse, that hit the building beside them. But they were gone. Like being shot through a rubber tube they were spiraling though a tunnel of apparition.
After a few moments of feeling like your body parts were flying in formation, they settled smoothly on the roof of the hotel. He released his grip on Penny's sweaty palm. At the opposite end of the roof were deck chairs and the sunbathing area and the door to the lower levels. Harry accompanied Penny to the door and then balked, going no further. He could almost hear Jerry calling out from the grave. He could see the face of the friendly wizard that he had come to know so well in Romania.
"Harry – what's wrong?" asked Penny as she furrowed pretty brows.
"I might be able to surprise them... if I go back," he said and studied his feet and the pebbles on the rooftop.
"Go back! What are you mental?"
"Protecting you is only half of the job..."
"A job? How is getting killed a part of a job?"
"Look Penny..." he protested.
"No Harry. You look," she instructed and grabbed both of his hands with her own.
And he did look. And when he did he realized he had less desire to fight. She gently pulled him toward her. Ever so gently, but he eased closer just the same.
"First it was one – then three – today it's six. How many tomorrow and the day after? Until you get yourself killed – can you answer that?"
Harry dipped his head and had no answer.
"You've got to let her go Harry," she said and pulled him into her breasts.
He looked deeply into the reflecting glint of beautiful grey eyes shining like moonlit quicksilver. She inched closer until he could feel her breath and smell a hint of perfume. Canting her head, he felt her lips on his and then mouths opened, hungry and wet.
He could feel her arms around him and he reached out, running his hands, along her sides and back covered with smooth silk. He could feel desire spinning off the scale and then all fears, animosities, and anger melting away to expose the sensitive core.
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A/N: Thanks for reading and with this story and all that you read, please review.