Chapter 13
13
For all the expansive land around them, the buildings in the village were huddled tightly against each other, and the blue-cobbled streets were very narrow. The villagers themselves were all young, upper middle-aged men and women that came seemingly from a large variety of mixed races, and they all wore the same, simple pheasant tunic that may have been in fashion during the middle ages.
Harry discerned that the day was winding down for them, as the women were scurrying around with the day’s shopping and some of the shops seemed to be closing. Harry approved of the place in general, for it had a wholesome and uncomplicated look about it. Solid woods and plain linens were everywhere, and shades of green seemed to be the predominately preferred color.
They stopped one of the hurrying villagers, a man who looked to be in his thirties, with a black, close cropped beard and a leather chullo covering the sides of his face.
‘Good evening, we’re looking for a man who goes by the name of Lucius Malfoy-‘
‘We’re also looking for food,’ Draco interrupted.
Harry clamped a hand on his wrist and pulled him firmly away from the villager’s suspicious gaze. ‘We think he might be staying in his village,’ he continued politely.
‘We seldom go by names here,’ the villager confessed. ‘Nobody remembers their own names after a period, you know.’
‘Ah,’ Harry acknowledged. ‘That might be a problem then. The man we’re looking for is rather elderly; quite tall, long blond hair & blue eyes…’ he barely refrained from adding ‘quite a bastard’ to his description. ‘He’s been in Hades just over a year now.’
The villager scratched his short beard. ‘The only man fitting your description is the onion and squash farmer, lives about a league away. Looks no older than meself, though. Tall fella, hair like wheat, but he smells like a giant onion on legs.’
‘That’s not him then,’ Harry said, spirits deflating. ‘Maybe you can point us to some food instead. We haven’t any money, but perhaps you know somebody we could barter with.’
‘Depends on what you’ve got; markets at the main square,’ the villager pointed at the bustling road. ‘Just follow all the way.’
‘Our thanks,’ Harry said. ‘Lets go.’
‘But I’m famished,’ Draco groaned.
‘We need money before we can buy food, so march.’
Draco sighed and followed Harry down the market road, gazing mournfully at the cafes and restaurants they passed. They made their way past the main street, with its rows of simple shops – identical in their preference of solid wooden counters and sensible shelves.
‘This place is in dire need of an overhaul,’ Draco said distastefully as they moved along. ‘It looks about two millennia out of date.’
‘Hades is an old place,’ Harry defended, thinking he could really get used to a place like this. He decided to keep his thoughts to himself.
The market square was quite a bit larger than Harry expected, given the size of the village, and still noisy with the din of moving goods and haggling tradesmen. The square was crammed with a colorful assortment of tents, carriage-stalls and caravans, some modest, some grand, and there was one brocaded dome that was so ostentatious as to be ridiculous. The costumes worn by both peddlers and buyers were also a lot more riotous here, although there were many of the plainly-garbed villagers as well. Harry found sudden chaos was quite overwhelming after the orderly calm from the previous streets- all in all, the market reminded him of a very noisy parakeet cage.
They wandered warily thorough the throng. Draco seemed to have forgotten his hunger in this enthusiasm to explore the colorful scene before him, and Harry had to slap the blond away quite a few times. ‘Don’t touch anything until we get our hands on some money,’ he hissed.
Draco simply growled at him- with his stomach. Harry rolled his eyes at his companion and pushed ahead, mostly to hide his own worry.
They found themselves coming upon an armorer’s tent, manned by a smith with corded muscles that wrapped around his arms and shoulders like snakes the man has swallowed whole.
‘We’re looking for money – in exchange for work or trade.’
The smithy looked Harry up and down incredeusely. ‘Scrawny likes of ye wont do me any favours. That dagger ‘ere, however, looks plenty nice.’
Harry looked in dismay at the shrunken sword of Gryffindor on his hip. ‘It’s not for sale.’
The smithy shrugged and turned back to his hamering. ‘Suit yerself.’
‘But I’m hungry,’ Draco mourned, staring at him with anguished expectancy. ‘We need food, Harry.’
Harry stared helplessly at him, fingers clenched over the cool metal of Gryffindor’s sword with his conversation on the hill with his blond ex-beau playing in his mind. The Sword of Gryffindor, legacy of its most famous founder.
On loan, because he was Harry Potter.
But the founder of Gryffindor was dead, and Draco was alive. And Draco was hungry.
Harry pointed at the smithy’s most prized possession, a scimitar displayed in a pride position in the center of the tent. ‘How much for that sword?’
The smithy raised and eyebrow. ‘Yer wana trade?’
‘How much?’
‘One hundred and sixty gold pieces. A trifle, for me finest work!’ the smithy boasted.
Harry removed his ‘dagger’ and held it out, where it begun to lengthened and grow into a sword before the smithy’s widening eyes and the awe of the customers around him.
‘Three hundred gold pieces for this sword,’ he said steadily.
‘Tis a fine magic,’ the smithy said craftily, playing to the crowd of curious onlookers that had started to gather around the tent, ‘but its not unique. I’ve give you ninety good gold pieces for that.’
‘Two hundred and sixty gold pieces,’ Harry pressed. He didn’t notice the wily blond bastard slip away
The hammer smith glowered at Harry. ‘Two hundred and ten, and not a farthing more.’
Choking back the sense of loss that had dropped like a stone on his gut, Harry opened his mouth to accept-
-and almost fell over when a scream ripped through the marketplace, drawing a startled mummer through the crowd. Harry grabbed Griffindor’s sword and ran out of the tent, ignoring the smithy’s angry cries and pushing desperately through the crowd, trying to locate the source of Draco’s distress.
He followed the mindless shriek down a peddlers lane of earthly produce, the smell of onions and assorted vegetables assaulting his nostrils until he came upon a blond head and shook him hard for giving him such a scare.
‘What the fuck sake’s the matter with you?’ Harry shouted.
Draco shook his head violently, all colour gone from his face, and merely pointed at something in front of him. ‘Father,’ he whispered in a shaky voice.
Harry’s startled gaze followed, and his jaw dropped open in shock. ‘Lucius?’
Whatever unpleasant surprise that Harry had been thinking of, he wasn’t prepared for this.
[FINI - Phastasmagoria! Part One]