The Last Dragon Thief: I.04 & I.05
Title: The Last Dragon Thief
I.04
For five days, Harry went to the Ministry building at least twice a week, to speak with people about work. Some were less receptive than others. Often he ran into Percy, Mr Weasley, Minster Shacklebolt, and several he’d spent years with at Hogwarts. They wished to spend time in his company, ‘to hear all the news’. Such a phrase translated easily into ‘listening to the wonderful life of others while I have nothing to say about my own life’ for Harry. He dreaded being asked round for tea, to dinner, or having to go to lunch with the Minister at Pompardo’s, a fabulously, ridiculously posh Italian restaurant within the sleekest realms of Muggle London.
But while at Pompardo’s, dinning on linguini and discussing the current galleon to pound exchange rate, Harry met Eva St Eve and Ambrutus Brutus. A striking couple, tall, dark, fair-eyed, imposing, impossible to ignore. He couldn’t believe, after swallowing his linguini down with a sip of red wine, that he mistook them, at first, for Muggles. They sat at an intimate table for two along the back of the restaurant. And only at their departure did they deign to greet the Minister. Their attention lasted a rude length of time on Harry’s scar. He felt it prickle, along with heat in his cheeks, under their Hungarian eyes.
After an eternity of embarrassment, Ambrutus Brutus faced the Minister. ‘We have had much difficulty finding a suitable residence for us in this city, Minister.’
Eva St Eve’s notable alto quickly listed the problems. ‘This place, it has no room. This other place, it has too much room. This place, it have bad kitchen. This other, it fall apart. And this place, it smell. Nothing suited for me and husband in this London of yours, Minister.’
Harry didn’t know what made him think of it, but he spoke up then. ‘I have a house. It’s not really for sale, and it’s not an estate exactly, but I’d love to be rid of it.’
In less than a fortnight, Harry had Grimmauld Place sold to the Hungarians. Relief as he’d forgotten it carried him to the stable grounds of happiness, lasting days. He had made some money from the sale, had shoved it in his Gringott’s vault, and pondered what to do with his life. Staying aimless disturbed his health, and for a while he nursed a lingering cough and cold that no herb sent from Neville Longbottom, no broth of Molly Weasley’s, could conquer.
In the spring of what would be his twenty-first year, he discovered that his wealth and idleness, his popularity and gregariousness, had made him the first playboy of the wizarding world.
It wouldn’t do. It simply wouldn’t do at all.
I.05
He thrashed about in misery. Woe marked him as an ally. He hid at the Leaky Cauldron during the day. He talked idly with Tom. He visited with shopkeepers in Diagon Alley. He even roamed the dark, narrow paths of Knockturn Alley. He saw Ambrutus Brutus and Eva St Eve, and hid from them, ashamed that they’d think him a socialite. They were already having extravagant parties at Grimmauld Place, and the Daily Prophet often had them in the social column. He avoided the famous and the rich, going so far in avoidance to disguise fame in himself.
He pretended to be a child again. On sunny days of early spring, he ate sundaes at Florean Fortescue’s, typically with a book propped in front of him, either muggle or wizard written. Non-fiction was his love, and history of the Hogwarts Founders his hobby. He could not forget the Headdress of Ravenclaw, the Cup of Hufflepuff, the Locket of Slytherin, and the Sword of Gryffindor. The fancy developed to write his own book someday, a non-fiction title, nothing at all like a biography. Just a book. Nothing pretentious or boring. But something to do while he waited for the world to welcome him again. Whenever that should be.
He supposed the sun would burn out before people forgot who he was.
Or the moon would fail to rise before he would let himself forget.
He felt like the only one who suffered in his post-Restoration identity. But a small part of him knew he was not. There was at least one other.
-x-
Continue...
I.04
For five days, Harry went to the Ministry building at least twice a week, to speak with people about work. Some were less receptive than others. Often he ran into Percy, Mr Weasley, Minster Shacklebolt, and several he’d spent years with at Hogwarts. They wished to spend time in his company, ‘to hear all the news’. Such a phrase translated easily into ‘listening to the wonderful life of others while I have nothing to say about my own life’ for Harry. He dreaded being asked round for tea, to dinner, or having to go to lunch with the Minister at Pompardo’s, a fabulously, ridiculously posh Italian restaurant within the sleekest realms of Muggle London.
But while at Pompardo’s, dinning on linguini and discussing the current galleon to pound exchange rate, Harry met Eva St Eve and Ambrutus Brutus. A striking couple, tall, dark, fair-eyed, imposing, impossible to ignore. He couldn’t believe, after swallowing his linguini down with a sip of red wine, that he mistook them, at first, for Muggles. They sat at an intimate table for two along the back of the restaurant. And only at their departure did they deign to greet the Minister. Their attention lasted a rude length of time on Harry’s scar. He felt it prickle, along with heat in his cheeks, under their Hungarian eyes.
After an eternity of embarrassment, Ambrutus Brutus faced the Minister. ‘We have had much difficulty finding a suitable residence for us in this city, Minister.’
Eva St Eve’s notable alto quickly listed the problems. ‘This place, it has no room. This other place, it has too much room. This place, it have bad kitchen. This other, it fall apart. And this place, it smell. Nothing suited for me and husband in this London of yours, Minister.’
Harry didn’t know what made him think of it, but he spoke up then. ‘I have a house. It’s not really for sale, and it’s not an estate exactly, but I’d love to be rid of it.’
In less than a fortnight, Harry had Grimmauld Place sold to the Hungarians. Relief as he’d forgotten it carried him to the stable grounds of happiness, lasting days. He had made some money from the sale, had shoved it in his Gringott’s vault, and pondered what to do with his life. Staying aimless disturbed his health, and for a while he nursed a lingering cough and cold that no herb sent from Neville Longbottom, no broth of Molly Weasley’s, could conquer.
In the spring of what would be his twenty-first year, he discovered that his wealth and idleness, his popularity and gregariousness, had made him the first playboy of the wizarding world.
It wouldn’t do. It simply wouldn’t do at all.
I.05
He thrashed about in misery. Woe marked him as an ally. He hid at the Leaky Cauldron during the day. He talked idly with Tom. He visited with shopkeepers in Diagon Alley. He even roamed the dark, narrow paths of Knockturn Alley. He saw Ambrutus Brutus and Eva St Eve, and hid from them, ashamed that they’d think him a socialite. They were already having extravagant parties at Grimmauld Place, and the Daily Prophet often had them in the social column. He avoided the famous and the rich, going so far in avoidance to disguise fame in himself.
He pretended to be a child again. On sunny days of early spring, he ate sundaes at Florean Fortescue’s, typically with a book propped in front of him, either muggle or wizard written. Non-fiction was his love, and history of the Hogwarts Founders his hobby. He could not forget the Headdress of Ravenclaw, the Cup of Hufflepuff, the Locket of Slytherin, and the Sword of Gryffindor. The fancy developed to write his own book someday, a non-fiction title, nothing at all like a biography. Just a book. Nothing pretentious or boring. But something to do while he waited for the world to welcome him again. Whenever that should be.
He supposed the sun would burn out before people forgot who he was.
Or the moon would fail to rise before he would let himself forget.
He felt like the only one who suffered in his post-Restoration identity. But a small part of him knew he was not. There was at least one other.
-x-
Continue...