Chapter:10 Trip(4): Enchanted Ember Inn

Eldermoor town fostered a lot of magical shops, too many even. Despite spending the majority of their day visiting one shop after the other, they merely scratched the surface of the town's attractions.

After the Library and Apothecary, they visited the 'Eldritch Emporium' a store that sold eldritch or mutated magical materials, she saw a talking onion and Hector brought a massive Owl for several hundred galleons. 

Next stop, the 'Mystic Relics Rarities', a single-story cottage enchanted into a massive hives nest. There was Nothing worth buying. Then the 'Arcane Artifacts Alley', a whole alley filled with Alchemy shops from all over the world, nothing there too. 'Phantasmagoria Enchantments,' a fashion storeroom, which is world famous too. Hector wanted to buy several dresses for Victoire but she stopped him before he did so.

The 'Chimerical Charms Collective,' a store that sold charms like Japanese Origami Charms, Indian Pendants, and several other types of charms, some for good luck and others with genuine magical properties. Then the 'Aetherium Elixirs & Potions,' finally a normal-looking shop. It was one of those well-furnished but with limited service kind of stores. Nothing to see there either. 

The 'Spectra-Craft Wonders', a spooky building, Victoire opted to stay out of the store while Hector strolled inside. Can you believe that it was a store run by ghosts FOR ghosts, she didn't either. Any stationary you might need would be found at the 'Celestial Sigils & Scrolls,' a four-story tall building with a wide variety of stationary items. 

Finally, their last two stops for the day were the 'Occult Oddities Outpost,' a shop that sold occult and shamanic ritual materials, and the 'Enigma Essentials Exchange,' a whole alley full of exchange boots, a place to exchange what extra items you have for some useful stuff.

There was still the world's most famous ice cream shop, the 'Molten Glacier Ice Creams,' a giant shop made of ice that served every variety of ice cream ever known to the wizardkind. And the 'Pharaoh's Tome Store,' which boosted one of the world's largest collections of exotic tome ranging from Old Norse rune scripts to the Shogunate, or Tokugawa, eras lost scriptures. 

Not to mention that these two were the ones that only Victoire wanted to see, Hector still had an extensive list of stores and attractions. He was ticking off the names as they roamed from one store to the other. 

But, the clock struck ten, and the duo started to look for lodgings for the night. 

"Victoire dear, can you try out the 'Enchanted Ember' down the street? See if they have any rooms available. I will try the others."

Victoire nodded her head and without a word, she started down the lane.

"Wait!"

A voice called out to her and she halted. Victoire looked around and saw that Hector was taking out a dragon skill wallet. He fumbled with the money and handed Victoire a small pouch full of gold galleons. 

"Here, if there is a vacancy, book us in. If I am not wrong, then a room for two would cost around 7 or 8 galleons. Get something to eat while you're at it, I heard that their pumpkin pie is to die for."

Victoire simply nodded her head,

"Okay, will do so."

The oil lamps cast a golden hue upon the bustling streets and yet shadows began to stretch and dance under the influence of the night sky, weaving an intriguing tapestry. Standing at a distance, Victoire gazed at the mystical glow emanating from a peculiar establishment - the "Enchanted Ember Inn."

Its exterior gave off an aura of secrecy, shrouded in ivy creepers that seemed to come alive after sensing her approach. The dimly lit windows hinted at the bare minimum amount of activity within the in. She couldn't understand why her father had said that 'if' while talking of vacancies, but then again, Hector wasn't one to joke around.

Curiosity propelled her to take one more step towards the enigmatic building. From up close, she could see the building material used to build the Inn.

'Hmm, 'White Oak', an interesting choice of material.'

For muggles, it may be a simple tree or wood type but to wizards, white oak was a symbol of purity or 'purification' to be exact. Hardly the kind of material used to make an inn.

As she drew nearer, the facade's intricate details became clearer - ornate iron lanterns flickering with a soft, amber light framed the entrance, and a large sign board that read 'welcome wanderers' hung on the door. The wooden door, weathered with age, stood invitingly open. Yet, she couldn't see anything inside except for the soft flicker of a candle burning brightly on the receptionist's table.

Well, Hector recommended it, how bad can it be?

Taking a deep breath, Victoire stepped through the threshold, and a wave of warmth and hushed whispers greeted her. The atmosphere was unlike any other inn she had ever stayed at, both in this life and in the one before.

The interior held an old-world charm, like the ones shown on TV shows. The hand-crafted tables, candles, lamps, wood mugs, basically the whole set. The walls were adorned with pictures and portraits, some of them she recognized and others she did not, and yet the recognition gave her no sense of warmth. A chill down her spine, most certainly, but no warmth. The scent of aged wood mingled with subtle hints of exotic potions and alcohol creating an intoxicating perfume.

Her gaze was drawn to the bar, where a bartender was cleaning a mug. From her experience, she could tell that he was a seasoned bartender but not a pure one, he must have had a job that involved constant physical tension before becoming a bartender. 

If a person is a pure bartender, there's a certain grace to their hand movement, a certain fluidity, a certain... rhythm to their hand movement. Yet, the bartender showed none of the above signs, instead, Victoire thought that she saw his hand reach down to his waist the moment she stepped in. 

Looking around, she noticed that the bar was heavily occupied, it was just that there were very few candles that were lit, causing darkness to shroud the bar in a gloomy mood. Patrons sat in small clusters, engaged in quiet conversations, their cloaked figures giving off an eerie feeling. It was evident that this was a sanctuary for those who preferred privacy over hospitality.

As she approached the bartender, a sudden jolt shot up her spine and a tingling sensation appeared on the back of her neck. She was being watched, and not just that but also being appraised as a target, opponent, or enemy.

Summoning her courage, she approached the bar and took a seat on a cushioned stool. The bartender stared at her, curiosity evident in his eyes. For a moment there was total silence which was broken by his small cough and then he began to introduce himself,

"Welcome to the Enchanted Ember, I am Thaddeus the proprietor of this bar. What can I do for you, young lady?"

His voice was heavy and scarred like someone had shoved a red-hot poker through his throat. And yet, his voice was devoid of any negative emotions, he was not appraising her or questioning her existence, but merely greeting her kindly."

"I was wondering if there's any vacancy for the night,"

She inquired, trying to match his calm demeanor and barely able to keep out the shacking from her voice. 

Thaddeus considered for a moment, his eyes assessing her every move.

"We do have a room available,"

he said, finally.

"But our inn doesn't take kindly to the practitioners of dark art, or criminals, or young brats running away from home. So, my advice is that you run along now before one of these bad men eats you." 

Suddenly, the nervousness left her limbs and instead, a raging fire erupted deep in her mind.

'Eat Her?'

She thought, contemplating the words slowly in her mind.

'Who does this Old man think he is talking to?'

She spoke again, this time her voice was genuinely devoid of any emotion,

"A room for two, preferably a bunk bed."

She had completely ignored all his attempts of intimidation and was desperately trying to stop herself from burning his long goatee off his chin.

"Room for two? Ok. We have bunk bed bedrooms but they are for groups of four, unless you wanna share the room, you gotta book it whole."

Once again she nodded her head,

"How much?"

"Let's see, 8 galleons for the double room, 2 off cause of whole room booking. Dinner? Breakfast?"

He asked again looking at her with deep blue eyes,

"Yes"

She didn't return the gaze but instead turned her head away. There may be a shortage of Legilimence in Britain but the world was wide enough to have a considerable number of mind readers. 

"That would be 6 galleons for the room, 3 for the Dinner, and 1 for breakfast. For two right?"

With another nod to answer his question, she took out the cloth pouch that Hector had handed her and emptied its contents on the counter.

A jingling sound filled the bar as the gold galleons clinked and clacked on the tabletop. The bartender merely smiled and accepted her payment, putting the ten coins in what seemed to be a piggy bank.

As she stared at the strange golden pig, a hand grasped onto her shoulder. At once she sprang onto her feet, swirled around, and pointed her wand at the figure. As soon as she was sure that the figure was too short to be her father, she let loose a jet of flame onto the person.

This action of hers seems to ignite life back into the bar as the patrons all sit up straight to look at the show.

Victoire's attack was magnificently executed, despite her magical core being a rather weaker one, her natural affinity for fire strengthened the flames to what she was sure only an Expert Wizard could produce. 

And yet, it was about as effective as throwing jelly beans at a bear. The stranger stood straight, no sign of the flames could be seen on him, and the only damage she did to him was to burn the cloak the figure was hiding under.

"Who are ye' lassy, and why you be staring at that gold pig so intently? Are you a petty thief? Burglar, or maybe you are A DARK WIZARD MASQUERADING AS A YOUNG CHILD TO KEEP AN EYE ON US. 

Tell me who you are or I will paint ya' brain all over the fukin' wall."

He threatened as his wand, now held aloft in his right hand, dug deeper into her forehead.

"Knock it off Madeye, you are scaring the poor girl to death."

The bartender attempted to calm the old wizard who listened to him and withdrew his wand. As he was pocketing it, Victoire could swear she heard him plot something.

"Kids... *scoff*... snotty little creatures running off this late at night, or it is the truth that it's a dark wizard attempting to spy... maybe I should snap her neck a few times for, just to make sure. I knew it... all kids are up to no good, spies and fiends, CONSTANT VIGILANCE, YES, CONSTANT VIGILANCE IS NEEDED, and you lot are sitting here drinking booze."

And spitting once on the ground between them and walking back to his sear. 

Thaddeus attempted to calm her down and she pretended to throw a tantrum, it was only after Victoire accepted his offer to make sure her room was clean and properly taken care of. 

He handed her an antique key,

"Your room is on the second floor, third door to your left,"

He added, with a definite attempt at a friendly twinkle in his eyes which only made them scarier.

Instead of going to her room, Victoire decided to find a table and wait for Hector. Unfortunately, the only table available was the one next to Moody's. As she sat down, she noticed that the other patrons resumed their conversation.

In one corner of the bar, there were six 'people' sitting all huddled up and covered in cloaks. Occasionally, a plume of smoke would drift out from under their hoods and an arm or two would be lowered allowing her to notice the distinct British smoke pipe visible in their hands.

And these were the most noticeable ones, other than them, there was a group of four wizards all sitting on the other side of Moody, hell-bent on staring at each other. She would have thought they were gay had it not been for the fact that there was a gleam in their eyes, evidence enough to deduce that they were all Legilimencers.

Also, she noticed a group of six witches sitting at the table right next to the door. Their faces were covered in velvet blue veils and their surprisingly shinny eyes scanned the bar as they talked in whispers. 

How did she know they were women? Well, she says no matter how much you hide your face beneath a veil, your 'Bazookas' will still be visible by the curve of your clothes. 

"What's your name lass?"

It was Alastor 'Madeye' Moody, he was staring at her with his artificial eye spinning rapidly in the hollow left behind by his real eye. 

Thinking it to be rude not to reply to an experienced auror, she said,

"Isabelle Blue, my name is Isabelle Blue, Sir."

He snorted,

"No need fer a sir, I ain't yer' teacher. Call me Moody or Madeye."

She nodded her head again,

"So ye're Isabelle, eh? what of this friend ye're waiting for?"

Now this escalated their conversation from casual to interrogation, and she had no intention of telling him anything.

"Henri Blue, and he is my father."

Moody didn't seem convinced, his artificial eyes swirled around violently and he let out another snort before returning to his glass of liquor.

She waited, slowly half an hour passed yet there was no sign of Hector anywhere. The customers were starting to file out of the pub, they were either going up to their rooms or walking out of the bar.

It was only when she was bored and started to count their numbers did she realized that the host of patrons was considerably larger than she had guessed. Within half an hour, almost three dozen witches and wizards walked out of the bar one way or the other, and yet the place was only half empty. 

Thaddeus, the bartender, approached her table and smiled,

"What can I get for you young lady? Pumpkin Juice, Fruit Juice, or maybe butterbeer."

She thought for a moment and decided to look him through the system panel before ordering a drink.

[Thaddeus Wright: Former Auror/Innkeeper: Level 65(71): Resplendent Stage(?) Mana Core]

What's with the brackets and question marks?

She clicked the question (?) icon and another text appeared in front of her.

[The symbol (?) and () indicates a regression in levels or stages of mana core. Regression may occur due to heavy physical and mental damage, or through old age and the weakening of the body.] 

Regression? Regression is a thing in this world. Now that she thinks about it, age-challenged people do find it difficult to remember stuff, which would explain the regression in level due to limitations in knowledge. The mana core is merely a conductor of magical energy present in a physical being's body, weakening of the physical body can indeed directly affect the conductivity of magic and therefore weaken the spells used by a witch or wizard.

Everything makes sense except for the fact that Hector had still not arrived. And what was a former auror doing as a bartender, the presence of Moody indicates that they were up to no good. Maybe they were looking for an information broker or a felon, if she scanned more people in the bar, then maybe she would understand their reason.

Turning around, she activated her system's identification system in full throttle.

[Jennifer Silverstone: Senior Auror: Level 60: Luminescent Stage Mana Core]

[Martha Theda: Auror/Innkeeper: Level 54: Luminescent Stage Mana Core]

[Joseph Brown: Hit Wizard: Level 65: Luminescent Stage Mana Core]

[Krust Munro: Hit Wizard: Level 51...

[Amanda Brimstone: Auror/Intelligence: Level 60... 

[Theodore Skarn: Hit Wizard/Support...

Oh... looks like she just stepped into a law enforcement nest.

What the hell were dozens of Aurors and Hit Wizards doing in this dingy old bar? Heck, she was certain that those who walked out or up were also in the same trade as this bunch.

Where the fuck did Hector go? And why the hell did he trap her in this mess?

Just then, a soft cough sounded next to her and Thaddeus spoke again in a soft voice,

"Would you like something to drink lass? Pumpkin Juice, Butterbeer?"

She hesitated for a moment and then said,

"Something... stronger?"

He seemed amused at her request and nodded his head.

She watched as he glided across the floor, swiftly and silently as though he was not even there. He reached out beneath the counter and pulled up a glass bottle that looked a little too much like a beer bottle. With a swift motion of his wand, he uncorked the bottle and swirled its contents into a glass mug the size of Victoire's head.

She noticed that as the beer poured into the cup, the foam produced was perfectly preserved, a feat she found extremely difficult while she worked as a bartender. Usually, the foam would either mess up the counter or be more water than beer, sometimes there was no foam.

'Magic sure is convenient.'

The old man followed up the beer with a small dosage of burning red liquid and a milky white syrup. According to her expertise, there was 1.5oz of the red liquid and 1oz of the white (1oz is roughly 30ml).

This mixture was followed by an ice cube which he accioed across the counter, from a shelve with a moving snowman in it. With another flick of his wand, the content in the mug shook violently.

'Amazing! This man doesn't even use a mixing glass.'

Which was both an indignant comment and a comment of pure awe. 

This time, without even a movement from his wand, the ice cube shot out of the mixture. The mug shook again and its contents flew into the air, somehow strained itself, and poured back into the mug. 

He picked up the mug, walked over, and placed it down on Victoire's table. 

"Ember's Delight, it ain't strong but it's good."

 Nodding gently, she took a large gulp from the mug,

'Oh, there is beer in it alright, and... whiskey? Yup, but I don't recognize the taste, maybe some exotic ingredient from the wizarding side. Hmm, a subtle hint of vanilla, guess that's the syrup.'

It was good, a fine brew but she would still only give it 8 out of 10. Like he said, it's good but not strong. Understatement of the day, there was barely a hint of alcohol in it, no more than one percent or maybe three percent, she couldn't tell. 

However, no honorable officer would give alcohol to a minor. She could already see Moody eyeing her drink and the bartender, apparently not quite liking the fact that the bartender gave alcohol to a minor. 

For the next half an hour, Victoire drank three more of the 'Ember's Delight' that the bartender so kindly kept on mixing. And yet she didn't feel drunk or even tipsy. This was quite a surprise since her body had not had its first taste of alcohol and she certainly didn't expect it to show such high tolerance to liquor.

Her gaze wandered around the pub and all she could see were plumes of smoke drifting off to the ceiling. There were posters and pictures, photos taken from awkward angles, some close up while others from a distance. There were words scribbled onto them 'Wanted', 'Dangerous', 'Suspect', and 'Sighted'. 

She recognized some of them, there was one picture of Bellatrix Lestrange with her wild hair dangling all about her face, a 'Caught' written in bold red letters beneath the picture. Several other death eaters with either 'Captured' or 'Dead' written beneath them, bright red for 'Captured' and slimy greed for 'Dead'.

One was of Grindelwald, top of the board at the very center so that all those who glanced at it may see his visage. The bar owner must have quite the respect for this Dark Lord and yet she noticed that all other pictures were moving but he was still. 

'Gellert Grindelwald', the 'Legendary Dark Wizard', 'The First Dark Lord', or maybe as her grandmother preferred to call him 'The Strongest Wizard Of the 20th Century'. Of course, Victoire had doubted her claim, the argument was that Voldemort was strong and so was Dumbledore for having defeated him in a duel. 

The answers were simple and direct, so much so that Victoire felt her face burn for having argued her point. Voldemort wasn't strong, he may have been a Legendary Wizard but his influence had been largely in England and its surrounding countries, while Grindelwald had influenced the world. Voldemort was a deranged, unhinged, pup, according to her grandmother, who ruled with fear and slaughter. If his regime had continued then England would have had a couple dozen wizards left. 

As for Dumbledore, Grandmother had called him an opportunistic young man, in his younger days, and a blind fool in his old age. 

Well, grandmother hated wizards in general but she never said a word against Grindelwald or insulted him in all her talks. Who knows, maybe she had a crush on him.