Chapter 19
The plane landed down at Heathrow Airport. Tim and Harry stepped off, sending a silent thanks that they had survived another flight on a Gotham plane and collected their trunks. They got some weird looks, carrying an owl and a raven around the airport but stranger things had come off a Gotham plane.
“Where are we going to go now?” Harry said once they’d left the airport, releasing Hedwig from her cage and letting her stretch her wings. “If we’re going back to…”
“We’re not going to the Dursleys,” Tim interrupted firmly, “there’s only two weeks until school, we can find a hotel.”
“What about the Leaky Cauldron?” Harry suggested, surveying the line of taxis and busses outside the airport. “It’s got rooms and Bruce wouldn’t be able to find us there.”
“Close to the shops,” Tim agreed, flagging down a yellow taxi. One of them stopped and Tim opened the door for Harry, sliding in after him onto the leather seats.
“We’re to?” The gruff taxi driver said from the front, twisting around to look at them. His eyebrows raised slightly at the sight of two children but he didn’t comment.
“Charing Cross Road please,” Tim spoke in his most authoritative voice.
“Right you are.” The taxi peeled away from the airport and Tim tried to relax. Outside the window the sky was grey. A few drops of rain pattered against the glass and people bustled on the streets with coats and umbrellas despite the season. He still felt oddly distant from his own body. Everything seemed to be happening around him in a blur and the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground were his contingency plans.
The Potter’s vault did not gain interest over time. It would cover their education and basic needs for now but it would not rise with inflation. If they were to live in London, they would need more than one financial stream. The Drake fortune was not an option. Black Mask had made it clear that Drake Industries was his. For now. What was the legal age to work in the wizarding world? It wouldn’t be legal in England until they were fourteen and they were still only…
It was their birthday tomorrow. Tim had completely forgotten about it.
“We’re here,” Harry shook Tim, drawing him out of his musings. They paid the taxi driver with the pounds left over from their last trip to London. It was a short walk to the Leaky Cauldron, getting pelted with cold rain and avoiding Londoners bustling around then. Mortimer perched himself on Tim’s head, glaring at anyone that walked by. The weight was rather comforting.
The Leaky Cauldron was just how he remembered. Men and woman in cloaks were hunched over their pints or whispering in shadowy corners as Tom cleaned glasses behind the bar. Tim walked up to him, pushing his shoulders back and standing to his full height.
“How much for a room?” Tim asked, peering over the counter.
“Bit young,” Tom said, glancing between Harry and Tim, “your parents somewhere?”
“They were meant to join us here but their plane got delayed,” Tim lied smoothly, “dad said we should get a room and stay here until their arrive.”
Tom glared at Tim and Harry suspiciously. “Alright kid,” the barmen relented eventually, “but don’t think I won’t call the aurors if they don’t show. Kids like you shouldn’t be on your own. It’s two galleons a night.”
Tim slid over the money, already brainstorming other potential venues where they could stay.
“Room twelve’s free,” Tom said, “you eaten today kids?” When Tim and Harry didn’t say anything, Tom grumbled and waved at a free table. “Take a seat. I’ll bring somethin’ over.”
“We can pay,” Harry pulled out his money purse but Tom waved them off. “Look like you could do with a warm meal.”
Tim hadn’t realised how hungry he was. It was almost dinner time here in London and he hadn’t eaten since the stale pretzels. He sat down at the table with Harry and played aimlessly with the little satchels of salt and sugar.
“We can go to Flourish and Blots tomorrow,” Harry suggested, clearly trying to inject some positivity into his voice.
“Yeah,” Tim smiled a little, “it would be good to get a head start on next year’s work. I wonder who our defence against the dark arts teacher will be.”
“Do you think this one will try to kill us?” Harry grinned back at him.
“Can’t be worse than…” Tim trailed off, thinking of Black Mask.
Two bowls of soup were slid in front of Harry and Tim, along with a basket of bread sticks.
“Eat up, kids,” Tom said, “it’s creamy mushroom soup today.”
“Thanks Tom,” Harry pulled the bowl towards him and stuffed a spoonful into his mouth. Tim hesitated to grab his own spoon. The thought of Black Mask had stripped most of his appetite. Under Tom’s stubborn glare, Tim slowly raised a spoonful to his mouth and sipped at the hot soup. It was a little under-spiced compared to Alfred’s cooking but it was rich and warm. He finished the whole bowl in less than a minute. With a full stomach, Tim’s eyes started to droop and he had to fight to keep them open. Harry’s chin rested on his chest, his hand robotically bringing more bread to his mouth.
“Here’s your key,” Tom said, sliding over a rusty, bronze key. “Look after yourself boys.” He left to go back to the bar and Tim heaved himself up, helping Harry to his feet.
“Let’s go find our room,” he said, sleepily, “we can figure out everything else tomorrow.”