On Tuesday and Wednesday, Guidry began to leave Harry alone in longer intervals, and Harry himself felt more confident whenever he left by himself. He knew how to answer questions and avoid them with tact, and he was even improving his accent, and now it had begun to lose some of its violent Britishness if he focused on it, though he wasn't sure if it sounded all that southern, either.
The clients weren't so testy and disagreeable as they had been that first day, though old Mr. Carmichael passed by the shop a second time on Wednesday and looked at Harry even more suspiciously than he had the first time. Guidry quickly took him off his hands. There were a few things that Harry kept to himself throughout the week.
The first was his impulse to ask Mrs. Cormier what she worked as. One day after her afternoon nap, she mentioned that the only day she didn't work was on Sunday because that was the Lord's day, but her work seemed so tiring it appeared inhumane to Harry that she should work that much. Still, something made him bite his tongue, and he held off from asking what her work was, fearing that it would mean trouble. The second thing was his desire to begin his studies with Guidry or without Guidry but begin his studies.
He wanted to be home as soon as possible, and he couldn't help but feel like all his time staffing the front desk was just a waste and that if he just so happened to find the right book, he could be home by the end of the week. But he kept chickening out before he asked Guidry, and they all seemed so overworked that he feared asking them.
He didn't want to recognize to himself that maybe he was stalling his search, afraid that there would be nothing in Guidry's books to help him go back home. But if he fell into those kinds of thoughts, there would be no turning back, and he'd just rot in that hole. Then, there was the matter of the portkey. Harry kept it in his pocket at all times as if afraid to part with it. He kept it by his side as he slept (covered with a blanket so the sight of it wouldn't trouble him), and every day the darkness around that black orb seemed to expand most creepily imaginable. And yet, Harry couldn't help but hold it close to him, to feel panic should he even enter the shower without it.
He hadn't noticed that he barely touched his wand anymore, even though it was semi-functional and one of the few reminders he had of his home. By the time Thursday rolled around, Harry was pretty excited to see the first table of the Close Encounter special - he knew that Guidry hated it, but it seemed like most of their business revolved around it. Guidry rarely had customers who had to be shown to the back for his real work, so most of them arrived to ask questions about the table readings and bookings.
He could see how Guidry's posture slouched progressively as the week wore on, dreading the Thursdays and Fridays, which were booked topped to bottom, from ten in the morning to late into the evening, almost until eleven. It was non-stop work save for a few meager thirty-minute breaks, but it rolled nearly all the money in, and they're really wasn't much else to do the rest of the days of the week. Harry waited anxiously, but Guidry gave no sign that he would require Harry's aid for that day. He had to say that he was a little disappointed: he had also wished that if he pulled his weight on such a busy day, Guidry might be well-disposed towards him and feel more inclined to let him begin his research. But the man was silent as could be.
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Harry was expectant during dinner on Wednesday, and he waited eagerly for Guidry to say anything on the matter. The man opened his mouth, barely looking over his newspaper as they waited for Mrs. Cormier to finish making the food. "We goin' out on Saturday," he said simply. Harry just stared, perplexed. It wasn't what he had expected. "What?" "Alluva us. Monthly thing Molly and me do. She takes the day off this week. I didn't want you to come, but I insisted you should." Harry frowned. What was he even talking about? "Where are we going?" He asked, and now he looked from Mrs. Cormier to Guidry. "Meet some friends. Outskirts of town. You gon' see what Louisiana is really like," he said with a chuckle. Mrs. Cormier tensed up a bit, but she didn't say anything. Lately, she seemed to be relenting more often when dealing with Harry, and it had been so since Monday evening when Guidry had told him the story about the Robinsons.
Harry didn't think he'd get much more information that evening, so he kept his silence and ate his food quietly, listening to Guidry complain about the rise in chicken prices. He even joked about needing their feet to perform some juju just to put Harry on edge, which he did. Once he had gotten his desired reaction and a scolding from Mrs. Cormier, he admitted that he was joking, but Harry wasn't really buying it.
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The next morning, they all woke up much as usual, but when Harry and Guidry went downstairs to the shop and Harry moved towards the front desk, Guidry frowned. "The hell you gon' do over there? Get your scrawny ass back here, and we got a lot of work to do," Guidry ordered, motioning Harry over to the creepy room. It had gone untouched since Harry had last seen it, and Guidry told him to dust off the shelves as he made sure that not a drop of sunlight filtered inside through the dark curtains. Guidry replaced the nearly depleted, squat candles with new ones and lit them before time so that they'd have that spooky, already worn-down look by the time the clients came.
Harry dusted everything from the chair to the walls and then set about sweeping the place, mindful not to let any heavy draperies catch fire on the many candles as he moved things out of place to clean. Guidry straightened out the velvet mat atop the table and set some crystals, different-colors gems, a pack of cards, and a single, red candle on it. When they were about done, they heard a ring come from the front desk. "Stay here," Guidry indicated, moving to greet the guests. "And keep quiet unless I call on you. You just watch for this first time," he said as he moved out the door. Harry nodded severely, but he was very excited and felt an almost child-like, giddy sensation as he waited for the clients to come in. "Oh, before I forget," Guidry hopped back inside, produced some necklaces laden with stones, and set them on Harry's neck. "For the ambiance," he said, half-laughing. It was hard not to smile.
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He heard Guidry talking to the women just outside the room, and he remained as stoic as he could, watching ahead blankly as the people entered, like a good foot-soldier. He felt this was a good chance to prove himself to Guidry, so he was quite alert. "Don't you mind my assistant? He's here if things get a little… out of hand," Guidry said darkly, and when Harry heard him talk, he felt that his whole tone had changed. He was no longer Guidry, mysterious grump, and now he was Guidry, mysterious and dangerous voodoo practitioner grump. The four ladies that had come seemed to rustle at his words. Judging by their attire and refined air, Harry reckoned that they were pretty rich.
Among them was a lady that Harry had attended to himself, Violet Griffaw, he thought her name was. She nodded politely at him as she took her seat at the table. Once they were all seated, Guidry propped his elbows on the table and took his hands in a prayer position, looking at them over his fingers severely. "Before we begin, do you have any intent in mind when we contact the spirits, or perhaps a person you should like to contact?" He asked, and a lot of his accent and bad grammar were gone. Harry realized that this was probably scripted in some way or another.
The ladies all looked to one another, their faces somehow both deeply flushed and slightly pale. Maybe that was because of their heavy makeup, though, but Harry was certain that Guidry would not scare them too much - hell, the very room seemed to put them ill at ease. Maybe this job was easier than it seemed. "It is of no incidence if we do not have intent. We will see who is with us now," Guidry said before the silence grew to be awkward. "Let us join hands," he said, and all the ladies took one another by their pale hands, looking expectantly at Guidry, who sat at the head of the table, never touching any one of them. Harry wondered whether that was for his own freedom to perform or if he would get in trouble for something like that.
He thought it might be both. Once they were all holding hands, Guidry shut his eyes, touched the necklaces on his neck, and then looked up to the dark ceiling. "Spirits, are you with us?" He asked pleadingly, his voice nearly wavering. Harry was shocked by the sincerity of the performance. Guidry might find it demeaning work, but he was certainly a natural. Guidry's gaze turned and locked on Harry's for a moment before turning to the red candle on the table. Then, he looked back at the ladies. Harry understood in a moment. The candle flickered to life out of the blue, and the ladies all gasped, nearly breaking their handholding. "Keep the circle formed! Lest a spirit should escape from it and follow you home," he warned previously.
They all hushed and held tight to one another. Harry looked at the flickering candle. Wandless magic was hard to perform, but that was a fairly simple trick. He only hoped Guidry wouldn't try to make him do anything more elaborate. Although Harry knew it was all for show, he thought he saw the shadows on the corners of the room begin to gather most strangely, but he found nothing peculiar when he looked directly at a corner.
The mood was darkening so quickly that even he felt a little uneasy. Guidry took a stick of incense from the table and lit it on the candle, humming to himself as if in a trance. "I believe a lady of the future is with us tonight," he muttered. "Lady, would you like to speak to us?" He asked. He started cocking his head to one side, then the next, and there seemed to be a winding voice coming very softly from all corners of the room.
The women were all frozen. Suddenly, Guidry opened his eyes knowingly, looking directly at Violet. "She wishes to speak with you. Will you let her?" Harry could only see Violet's back, but he saw how she nodded stiffly. Guidry then proceeded to shuffle the cards on the table with incredibly deft hands and then splay them out.
He did the whole process of card-picking, and then, one by one, he explained the future to the ladies, speaking on behalf of some future-sighting witch from the other side. The cards weren't tarot cards that Harry could see but rather adorned with strange figures and drawings. Every once in a while, Guidry would rock the table or make some spooky sound come from somewhere in the room; what Harry couldn't explain where all the shadows on the room, gathering in a sinister manner and advancing as the session progressed. Harry thought that was dark magic. He had much to see.