CHAPTER 37: FORTUITOUS ENCOUNTER ON THE QUAYS PART-1
For the port city of Toulon, It was far from an ordinary year. One had to go back seven years to the Aboukir expedition to witness such commotion, both on land and at sea. This military port, serving in that capacity for nearly a century, held a strategic position for France on the Mediterranean coast. It allowed the nation to maintain relative control over a part of the sea and constantly threaten the numerous small kingdoms that comprised the Italian peninsula. The presence of the English fleet in this stretch of sea, a regular occurrence since the capture of Gibraltar in 1704 by the Royal Navy, had little impact on its commercial activity. Far from being intimidated, the British fleet did not prevent the French authorities from continuing their work of constructing a powerful fleet capable of rivaling it. Already promoted as the largest military port of the empire, Toulon continuously welcomed dozens of ships every day, and economic activity was in full swing.
Harry had not come here to assist the workers building the new ships for Emperor Napoleon I, nor was he here to admire the setting up of masts on the ships' decks or the unfurling and fluttering of sails according to the wind's strength. Although the spectacle was beautiful, he preferred to stroll quietly along the city's quays and breathe in the sea air from the open sea that constantly enveloped the region. August was the opportune time for those who wished to tour such a city, and the summer heat made more than one person sweat. However, while men leisurely indulged in sunbathing under the warm rays of the sun, most women, especially those from the more affluent classes, preferred to shelter under a large umbrella to avoid, to their horror, their fair skin gaining any color. Harry himself couldn't help but envy them, being unfortunately still clad in his uniform, especially that infernal hat under which he could feel sweat spreading across his forehead. Unfortunately for him, a soldier had to always present a good appearance wherever he was, and it was only in exceptional circumstances that he could afford the luxury of removing his headgear—a requirement that Harry found burdensome and made him dream of a good bath to escape from his sticky clothes.
"It feels good!" remarked his godfather next to him as he casually placed his hands behind his head. "If the Ministry of Magic didn't insist on keeping those dreadful Dementors in service, I'm convinced that the south of the United Kingdom would be as pleasant as it is here. Don't you agree?"
"Oh yes, definitely..." mumbled Harry, wiping his forehead.
"I'm glad my foreman gave me this day off. I can't even imagine the working conditions on those cursed ships!" Remus continued, sighing theatrically. "What heat! The poor unfortunate workers must be baking in the sun!"
Harry then noticed that his godfather had been looking at him for quite some time, and at the sight of the mocking smile on Remus's face, his godson couldn't help but furrow his brows while giving him a light elbow in the ribs. Remus let out a slight groan, but he didn't lose the smirk that irritated Harry.
"Your school should have invented changeable uniforms, in my opinion," he argued, examining him. "What you're wearing must be very practical for cold winter days, but it must be a real prison on days like this."
"You can go make that remark to the person in charge of designing these clothes," retorted Harry in a petulant tone. "I'm sure your recommendations will be heard all the way up to the highest echelons of the empire!"
Remus did not respond, but the mischievous gleam in his eyes suggested to Harry that Remus was quite capable of such a thing. Nevertheless, Harry held no grudge, appreciating instead seeing his godfather in this playful and joyful mood, which contrasted with his usual seriousness. The south of France had done him a world of good, and the sun-kissed skin he now displayed did not go unnoticed by the passing ladies. The scars on his face were almost concealed by his tan, and unless one paid close attention to these details, it took a discerning eye to notice the scratches that had once marred his appearance.
Harry, at 16 years old, had nothing to envy. Now ready to take his first steps into adult life, he was of a suitable height for his age, almost as tall as his godfather, who now regretted not being able to affectionately call him a "little dwarf" anymore. His appearance, grace, and attitude brought joy to his family, who saw in him the worthy descendant of the multiple noble families he represented. Daphne, in particular, couldn't stop praising the man who would become her husband in a year, and she, with the lovely neck she now possessed and the beginnings of a bosom that had been emerging for some time, promised to contribute her own share to the image of the perfect couple she already formed with Harry.
The wedding was still a year away, time needed to finalize all the details of this unforgettable day, prepare the extensive guest list, and begin budgeting for each activity leading up to and following the ceremony that would bind him for life to his fiancée. Marie-Louise already planned a budget of 300,000 francs just for the fireworks, almost as much as for a royal wedding. Given his mother's eagerness to determine the expenses that needed to be made now, Harry was willing to bet his personal fortune that the overall cost would easily approach a million francs.
Numerous discussions had already taken place on this subject, and just yesterday, Harry had to endure with feigned joy the multiple questions about the attire he wished to wear that day, the arrangement of flowers he wanted to see in the church nave, and the theme of the balls that would take place during the celebrations of his marriage. Despite all this, he accepted these long hours of discussion with her, not only out of respect but also because, having heard about the recent events that took place the previous week in England, he suddenly realized the importance of his family to him and how little it took to lose those he loved. Furthermore, learning that his little sister had almost fallen into the clutches of a werewolf only strengthened the bond he had with her, to the point that Marie-Rose would eventually complain about his omnipresence around her.
But today, Harry took advantage of his godfather's prolonged absence to escape his duties. Although Marie-Louise pointed out that it was never good to postpone commitments to creditors and local politicians seeking an audience with him, she still agreed to let him leave for a day, making him promise to return as soon as possible to take care of the administrative tasks that didn't amuse him.
Remus had indeed settled far from Lamballe a few years earlier and seemed to truly enjoy it to the point that his absence was felt among his closest acquaintances—a void that written correspondence couldn't fill. He had nothing to reproach Marie-Louise for and her generosity, but the castle life was really not a lifestyle that suited him. In the midst of oppressive and flashy luxury, overt wealth, and a world of formality far beyond the few notions of etiquette he knew, Remus never felt comfortable there, even though Lily and Rosie had quickly adapted. For him, a peaceful environment of small pleasures and simplicity was the best remedy for melancholy, and a simple cabin could be, in his eyes, the most wonderful shelter. Perhaps his werewolf instinct played a role, having accustomed him to the great outdoors and the perpetual search for a life focused on the pleasures of nature. Still, the choice of Toulon might be surprising: This city, although close to the vast wooded areas that made it one of the most wooded places in France, also had the nearby Mediterranean Sea and its warm sandy beaches. It didn't seem like the ideal place for a werewolf to settle, but his godfather had nevertheless fallen in love with the city, especially enjoying watching the immense frigates of the imperial fleet dock from the window of his humble apartment.
Moreover, as he never stayed in one place, Remus had quickly found a job similar to the one he had in London when he was trying to disappear from Dumbledore. The quays of the city were indeed bustling lately, and there was no shortage of job opportunities. Between loading ships, repairing the hull of some vessels returning from battle or a stormy sea, and building new structures to strengthen the imperial navy for its upcoming campaigns, Remus had no time to rest. But far from frightening him, this avalanche of work pushed him to excel and strive to do what was asked of him correctly. His godfather had also had to work on his accent to avoid giving away his true origins to his employer and colleagues, especially when France and the United Kingdom were in conflict, as was currently the case. Being accused of espionage for the English crown was not something he desired, especially when he was flourishing so much in his work.
His modest salary barely allowed him to live and afford some simple pleasures, such as a small dinner at the restaurant or buying a few things to beautify the three rooms that made up his apartment. Even today, Remus had chosen to enjoy a leisurely meal in his favorite restaurant, this time with his godson. Harry had often questioned his godfather about the life he led and the sincerity of his words when he spoke cheerfully about the days he spent by the seaside. However, Harry had to admit that Remus was no longer willing to return permanently to Lamballe, closer to the people he loved. His godfather clearly needed independence and solitude to reassess his existence, and such distance seemed necessary in his eyes to gradually rediscover the small everyday things that brought him happiness. Their lives were radically different from each other, but despite that, both had managed to stay in frequent contact to exchange news or answer each other's questions.
"Women are entitled to girl talk... Why don't we do the same?" Remus had declared one day in one of his letters, specifying, however, that it was best to avoid overly frivolous and uninteresting topics, as were generally those in "women's conversations."
The moment, however, was not conducive to the joy of reunions or making fun of women's discussions. Even if Harry tried not to show anything, his anxiety still surfaced every time Remus directed their conversation toward a specific topic: the imminent new war in Europe. The French Empire, newly named due to Bonaparte's coronation as emperor nearly a year ago, was once again facing a coalition of states led against it. While England contented itself with financing the maintenance of the armies and equipment of the allied units, the Russian and Austrian empires as well as the Kingdom of Sweden had already mobilized tens of thousands of men to fight against Napoleon. Hostilities had already begun a few months earlier when Great Britain seized all the French and Dutch ships docked in its ports due to the commercial difficulties it faced because of the Treaty of Amiens and the blockade imposed by Napoleon on the shipment of his production to the continent. At the same time, France had undertaken in recent years to annex many territories in Italy, including the duchies of Parma, Piedmont, and Guastalla. Perhaps as a provocation, it had also invaded the Kingdom of Hanover, the personal property of the King of England, George III. This expansionist policy had greatly alarmed the other European powers, and the French emperor did not seem willing to stop there. During the only year 1805, Napoleon concentrated a significant part of his troops near Boulogne, in the north of his empire, for a direct landing on the British coasts. At the same time, a Franco-Spanish fleet was to support this invasion, departing from Brest, Toulon, and Cadiz, attempting to attract a portion of the Royal Navy to the Antilles to ease the congestion in the Channel and better prepare for the landing. By a fortunate stroke of luck, the ships moored in Toulon managed to break the English blockade off the city, and although a few British ships were still off the coast, their usefulness was greatly diminished and relegated to simple reconnaissance of the coastline and possible crowd movements on the shore. However, the maneuver carried out by Napoleon's fleet seemed to have taken much too long in the eyes of the emperor, to the point that in recent days, he had ordered a major strategic movement of his armies to the East to better protect the empire's borders against the Austrian and Russian armies. Harry's Hussar regiment was soon to accompany this imposing army, and Metz, near the border, had become an important garrison town where land regiments, whether infantry or cavalry, succeeded each other. The academy was closed until September due to the school holidays, but there was no doubt that its smooth operation would be slightly altered when its students returned at the same time as thousands of troops gathered.
This new war, however, was different in Harry's eyes for a simple reason: he was going to participate in it. This announcement by his director during their last training session had surprised him, but Pajol had simply declared that he deemed him worthy enough to see for himself the reality of the field and what these conflicts entailed.
"Do not think for a moment that you will be involved in the upcoming battles," he had said, believing he saw a hint of impatience in Harry's eyes at the prospect of facing enemy armies. "Your task will essentially be to deliver messages and reports to the headquarters and obey my every order. If I tell you to flee, you will flee. If I tell you to return to Metz, you will return. If I tell you to stay behind with the reserve battalions, you will stay there."
This sudden introduction initially left Harry speechless and numb as the summons gradually sank into his mind. War had never seemed so close and frightening to him, and he discovered how much less trivial it seemed to his eyes than when he simply discussed it in class with his other classmates. Even if the functions he was destined for did not seem deadly and dangerous, he knew perfectly well that the slightest thing could jeopardize any of his plans and turn what was once a triviality into an obstacle that could put his life at risk. But there was no need to step back: Harry saw, above all, in the trust that Pajol placed in him, a definite advantage in his quest for recognition among the marshals of the empire—a certain guarantee of a secure future.
Thus, despite being sixteen, he was determined to honor the uniform he wore and the decorations that composed it, revealing to all the rank he currently held: Sergeant of the fourth regiment of Hussar cavalry, the first rank of non-commissioned officers. The only shadow on the horizon was the discovery of his mobilization by his family. While it brought joy to Marie-Louise, the fear of losing him prevailed more, both in her and in his other mother. The prospect of seeing their only son fall in combat haunted them, and for days, both of them were eager to spend as much time as possible in his company to enjoy the last moments offered before his great departure.
As for Daphne... Her tearful face upon learning had been enough for him to briefly regret the career choice he had made, so great was his fiancée's fear and sadness. She never left him for more than ten seconds, clinging to his arm like a shipwreck survivor in the open sea clinging to a piece of wood for fear of drowning. It took him raising his voice to make her relent and allow her to visit Remus. Her reaction seemed slightly excessive to him, but he could understand it. Above all, he dreaded the day of departure, now set in two weeks. How would she react at that moment?
"Gabriel?" Remus called him, snapping his fingers in front of his face.
"Y-yes?" he stammered, trying to regain composure.
"Ah, finally! I was beginning to think I was walking with a zombie," his godfather teased before looking ahead again. "I was saying that I'm really glad we're spending this afternoon together, like in the old days when you were much younger... We haven't had much opportunity to see each other, especially since you joined this academy, but I know it has been beneficial for you, seeing the man you are becoming and what you have already accomplished."
"But I haven't done anything extraordinary," his godson replied incredulously.
Remus chuckled slightly, shaking his head as he looked at Harry with a smile, almost paternal in a way.
"I'm not talking about extraordinary feats or achievements that only you possess, but something simpler yet much more important: You have managed to unite a family destroyed by malicious machinations while remaining the same simple and affectionate young man. The opulence and wealth that are now yours have not turned your head, and the values of friendship, sharing, kindness, and empathy that you already possessed ten years ago have remained ingrained in you and have not come out since. You are destined for great things, Gabriel, and I didn't need to know that your academy director had chosen to train you himself to make the same observation. But what will distinguish you from other politicians will be your obvious disinterest in material things and the fame you will enjoy through the deeds you will have accomplished. It will be good for the men you will one day lead and for the populace subject to the emperor that such a benevolent man as you rises to an important position in this empire. Your care will allow you to understand the troubles that inhabit them and thus seek to find the best solutions that satisfy them all, something that every individual from any nation seeks above all."
"Amen," Harry chuckled, although his godfather's words touched him more than he would ever admit. "I can't wait to see if your predictions prove true so I can take you as an adviser in this bright future you're foreseeing for me!"
His nervous laughter, however, didn't manage to completely conceal the anxiety that gripped him again when he thought about his future. As a cause and effect, he began to contemplate the war that was brewing at the very moment he was thinking about it and what it might entail for him and his family. Remus seemed to notice the abrupt change in his godson's mood because he suddenly stopped in the middle of the road, turning his head towards him, wearing a particularly serious expression that was only customary when he assumed his role as a moralizer and adviser for him and Rosie.
"You came to see me one last time before your departure, didn't you?" he asked, staring intently. "I'm not an idiot, you know, and I know that your visit wasn't solely to escape Marie-Louise's wedding preparations but to talk to me, perhaps for the last time. Did you come here hoping to keep in mind the memory of your old godfather safe in this charming town while you risked your life on a battlefield?"
"H-How do you know?" Harry questioned, incredulous.
Remus chuckled slightly at this question, then continued after shaking his head slightly, "I reacted the same way as you every time I had to carry out a mission for the Order and Dumbledore. I was always afraid of not surviving these escapades across the world and of dying far from those I loved, alone, left to myself, with no possibility of turning back and leaving Dumbledore to his delirious machinations."
"But... But didn't you tell me a long time ago that you had no more ties in England?" Harry asked, carefully choosing his words.
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