Merry Christmas... Or whatever you celebrate... And a Happy New Year!
A big thanks to my beta pazed!
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Chapter24
Harry stomped up the stairs into the motor home, tossing his helmet on the couch. "Damn it!" he said to no one in particular. "Just ten more laps!" He flopped into the captains chair.
A few minutes later he heard his father pull open the door and step up into the coach. "Martin won," he said patting him on the shoulder. "You did great!"
"Ten laps!" Harry cut him off, grumbling. He looked up at Tannim who was frowning down at him. He sighed. "Yeah, I know… It is part of racing…." He stood up and walked to the back of the motor home. "I'm going to change, then go congratulate Martin on the win."
Tannim reached down and scooped up Harry's helmet. "Put your gear up while you're at it." He tossed the helmet at him when he looked back.
When Tannim flipped on the radio the voice of the announcer filled the air. "That was the latest offering from Wanderlust, An American Child! This is WYRD, North Carolina's best music with a little something from Boston - Don't Look Back". He walked to the small galley and made a pair of cold cut sandwiches, listening both to the music and water running for Harry's shower and smiled as he thought about the first time Harry had had a DNF (Did Not Finish) because of a mechanical failure; he had ended up grounded for a week for the language he had used.
He had just finished making the snack when Harry walked out, hair still wet. "Better?" Tannim asked.
Harry smiled and nodded. "Yeah, mostly human now," he said taking the offered sandwich. "Thanks," he said taking a bite. "I'm going to help load after I see Martin. Can you handle the home by yourself? Mom is normally here to help."
"I'll be done in time to pull out when the truck does, no problem. I didn't put near as many things out as your mother usually does, so I don't need to repack all of the chairs and tables." He smiled as he cleaned the kitchen.
Harry nodded, the motor home was normally the base of operations for everyone when they were at the track, as it was equipped to feed and water everyone. It may have been true that no one would eat food his mother had personally prepared, but she could be trusted to heat up the things that were pre-made… most of the time, and never ran out of anything anyone wanted. Her efficiency was legendary.
"Ok, but if you need help let us know," Harry said, pulling a Gatorade out of the refrigerator.
Harry waved as he walked down the steps into the late afternoon sun. He hadn't put on a bad show, he thought, 'stayed in the top five most of the day! I kept the fenders on, and raced clean, we did well in the pits, and our setup and race adjustments were good. Till…'
Till the clatter started, he figured he had broken a rod… possibly a valve… but it sounded more like a broken rod… He'd find out when they got it torn down at home.
He kept mulling things over as he walked, occasionally waving at someone, offering congratulations on their year, till he reached one of the other coaches and banged on the door. "Hey Martin! You'll have plenty of time to rest your old bones tomorrow!"
A man in his late forties with light straw colored hair and blue eyes cracked the door, a smile wide on his face and his lips smeared with lipstick. "Hey kid! Good race! Sorry 'bout your engine, it was all you till it blew."
Harry took the man's hand. "I'll get you next time…" He raised his voice to almost a shout. "You better be sure you clean all that lipstick off or Ginger will rip your pecker off when you get home!"
A voice answered from inside, "I would too… if it wasn't mine!" A dark haired woman looked out over Martin's shoulder. "You did great Harry."
"Thanks Ginger. I've got to run, I'll see you next spring." Waving he started to head out.
"Hey Harry! Who took the championship? You or Mark?" asked Martin.
"I don't know. I have some bonus points for passing and for leading, but he finished. It will be close. We were only six points apart this morning… I think he will hedge me out though."
"That's tough kid. You had us all! That new car is something else!"
"Thanks! I'll pass that along! See you soon!"
He walked toward the pits, his steps a little more lively, it wasn't so bad; he had won five of eighteen, placed well several times and only had two really bad shows, one a crash that resulted in a DNF and this blown engine. Not bad at all! Even if he had lost the championship to Mark he had given the man a damn good run, and next year they would have the new car from the start, now that the design and SERRA approval issues were behind them.
He stepped into the garage. "Al, where do you need me?" he called.
His pit boss, Al Hawkes, looked up from the log books he was still putting notes in and waved his hand in the direction of the car. "You supervise getting the car loaded… You kept the fenders mostly intact... so it's still your baby till it's on the truck." He pulled off his cap and mopped at his brow. "You did good Harry, we'll get the engine sorted when we get home… it wasn't you… the tattler on the RPM gauge shows that you were still in tolerance, so you didn't push the engine too far… It had to be a bad part. We'll tear it down Monday morning."
"Ok... Any word on the Championship?" he asked crossing to the car.
"Not officially, but my count shows Mark won, by four. His finishing the last ten laps and the spots you lost after the engine blew, pulled him back ahead," Al said.
"I figured... Damn..." he replied, leaning inside and checking all the switches, making sure they were locked in the off position.
"Hey we'll get 'em next year!" Al clapped him on his shoulder. "And think, at least this means you won't have to get up and give a speech at the awards dinner this year! More time to enjoy that rubberized chicken! Yum!"
Harry gave him a lopsided grin and nodded as he went to work.
Hermione sighed as she smacked the slight blond girl's hand. "Real food first Luna, and at least two servings of vegetables, then you can have pudding." Luna looked at her, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It won't work, eat," she said scooping some green beans on to the girl's plate.
"Mean!" Luna said, then started picking at the food that had been placed on her plate.
Fleur looked at the pair confused, till Hermione offered an answer, "I think she would live on pudding if she could, what I can't figure out is why there is always a bowl near her at meals."
Fleur smiled. "It is the house elves… They know she likes it, they try to make her happy."
"House elves? I thought all the elves had gone?" Hermione asked quickly.
"Well, that is true… House elves are not elves as you are thinking…" Fleur's face scrunched up as she searched for the correct words. "They, house elves… inherited the name? They cook, and clean... I would imagine several dozen work here in the castle."
"How… Where… I've never seen them!" Hermione stuttered.
"Of course not," Fleur said. "Like all good domestics, they try their best to remain unseen."
Luna chimed in, "They are quite nice! And the kitchens are very warm!"
"You know them Luna?" Hermione asked.
"Oh yes! I spent many nights with them, before…" Her voice quieted.
Hermione growled, but reined in her anger. "Luna," she said quietly, "did they help you when…"
Luna's head nodded very slightly. "They helped me before I had a friend…" she said weakly.
Hermione gathered her in a hug. "I think they are your friends too… Can you introduce me to them?"
Luna smiled up at her. "Of course!"
Keighvin threw the ledger down on the table in front of him. "Damn… I was hoping it wouldn't come to this." He reached across his desk to his phone, and pushed the button for his assistant. "Margaret? Do we have any word about the portal connection I requested with Grand Central?" A muted 'no' came as a reply. "Fine, let me know the minute you hear something from Roe, I want that portal open and ready to use the day we are prepared to go. Could you please contact Mr. Johnson with the British Department of Mystical relations? I need to speak with him as soon as possible, put him through when you can. Then contact Lee and have him get the plane ready for departure, I want to leave as soon as the party is in full swing and I have made my appearance."
"Very good sir," replied the voice.
He then pushed another button and the phone began to ring; he picked up when a voice clicked on the line, "Moshi, Moshi."
"Lady Ako, please. It's Keighvin."
He waited as the telephone clicked and he was transferred to Lady Ako's phone. "Keighvin, how are you this afternoon?"
"I am well, and you?"
"Quite good as well. Have you heard anything about Harry's race?" she asked.
"Al called not too long ago, his engine blew with ten laps to go... and by our calculations it lost him the championship as well."
"I am sure he is disappointed."
"I imagine, but he did far better than we expected. If things had gone as planned with the SERRA approval, he would have had the new car months ago…"
"Keighvin Silverhair! You know, better than most, that that was for the best! They wanted to be sure that the new parts were safe. Those new alloy parts are radically different."
He sat on the edge of his desk. "Yeah… alright. It's just he was not out there with the best equipment we could give him, and the engineering in those old cars is not even ours. We bought those cars from an old team and modified them when he got his unlimited license."
"And yet look what he did with them in the two years he has raced at that level. He was in tenth place last year, and this year he was in contention for the championship."
Keighvin smiled. "You're right, as usual… but that is not why I called. I was wondering if you would care to accompany me to England?"
She was taken aback by his question. "You? You're going to England?"
"I am… Did you take a look at the ledgers Harry brought back?" he asked.
"No. I thought what Harry decided, while possibly rash, was understandable," she said.
"I agree. The thing is the other contents from his properties and vault arrived this morning… I say arrived… the containers were sent to the US Embassy Wednesday as they had no idea how to ship them here, so Mr. Higgins is aranging for them to be transported to the States. So when they arrived, we figured that we had better check it against the inventory in the ledgers before it was shipped from England…"
"And something caught your eye?"
"Something like that…" he said. "Harry's birth family, the Potters, were well off. Surprisingly well off. The bulk of their wealth is in land… rental properties, farms, store fronts… a very good business plan considering. But that is not what concerns me, what caught my eye was the conversion rate and the transaction fees."
"Hmmm…" came across the phone. "I seem to remember him asking about those. They seemed reasonable, maybe a little high… But they are more of a storage facility and transaction house, rather than a modern banking center."
"Yes, and I took that into account, but what I am seeing from the paperwork sent has me concerned. These logs are magical and as transactions are completed they are updated. They have started exchanging wizard currency to pounds, in bundles of around 10,000 pounds… Problem is he is being charged a percentage premium for each bundle, a handling charge, and a transaction fee per bundle... then they are charging him again for converting it to dollars using the same formula."
"Wait, what! They said it was a percentage fee! They never said any thing about… they are cheating him!" she yelled.
"That is my thought as well."
Silence settled on the line while Lady Ako thought. "We need to contact Mr. Johnson…"
"I have a call in to him already. I am waiting on him to get back to me."
"When are you planning on leaving?" she asked.
"Tonight. I have arranged for the plane to be prepared to leave as soon as the end of season party is underway. As long as I have made an appearance no one will miss me."
"Ha! I doubt that Keighvin. You mean too much to your people for that to happen…" She trailed off for a moment. "You may need to push back the departure time… My daughter plans on making an announcement tonight… and you will need to be there."
"Really? What kind of announcement?"
"That, sir, is my daughter's news!" She paused again. "Yes I believe I will accompany you. When shall we return?"
"The day before Thanksgiving." He hung up the phone after discussing the finer details and walked across the office to a glass case, inside which rested a gleaming silver sword. He laid his hand on the glass. As he muttered a few words his hand sank through the glass and he grasped the hilt, drawing the sword from its resting place. "Best I go prepared."