Chapter 65: Coward!
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Lips twisted into a malicious grin, Marco said, "It's a pretty good birth control spell."
Then he burst out laughing, and Harry followed a moment later. Maria looked too stunned and frightened to react.
"Why've you got to be such a crap actress, Maria?" Harry demanded, quelling his laughter. "It could've gone so well."
"Yep," Marco said. "But I was also notified that you were dating some 'Greengrass' girl."
Harry rolled his eyes. "And because I am a shining beacon of morality, you assume that I wouldn't cheat on her? Maria is hotter."
"And right here," Maria intervened, glaring at him.
"Are you never satisfied?" Harry asked. "I literally just said you were more attractive than Daphne, the girl you're jealous of."
Maria glared at him. "I'm not jealous; I jus—"
"Oh, hush, child," Marco said. "You are obvious as a Bludgeoning Curse to the face." He turned to Harry, grinning. "Let us leave the child here and go and do something."
Getting to his feet, Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course. Let's go and do mafia stuff."
"Mafia stuff?" Marco deadpanned. "Very secretive."
"Totally not Mafia stuff?"
"Much better."
Harry waved his wand over his face, weaving a net of illusions over himself. It took a few seconds for his hair to lighten to blond and extend to cover his famous scar, and his eyes to darken to brown.
The movement of his facial features followed a few further seconds later. The illusion wasn't permanent—not by any means—but it was good enough to last for a few hours.
"How the hell do you do that?" Marco said, looking rather envious. "You're obviously not a metomorphmagus, and I'm fairly sure that you're nowhere near good enough at transfiguration to do that without completely messing up your bone structure."
Harry sighed condescendingly. "My dear Marco, all that matters is that I am able to do it," he said. "And rest assured, I am most definitely able to do it without screwing up my exquisite cheekbones—or any of my other beautiful features."
Rolling his eyes, Marco said, "Honestly, you're vainer than Maria."
"Prettier, too." With that, Harry stepped out of the side alley in which he and Marco had been standing. "If I was a more nostalgic person, I might make a comment about how this is the place where we first met."
'It's not.'
"Oh," said Harry. "The voice in my head has just informed me that this is a different alleyway."
Marco eyed him as though he was slightly crazy. "The voice in your head is correct."
'I normally am,' said Loki,
"He normally is," Harry said. "I think he gets it from me."
"Right," said Marco, drawing out the word as though he thought that Harry's claim was unfeasible. "Anyway, now you've got your make-up on, shall we get to what we came here to do?"
"I suppose."
Together, Marco and Harry strolled from the alleyway, and further into darker territory, into what would be best described as a rough Italian equivalent of Knockturn Alley.
It wasn't long before they reached their destination, a brothel; they were not there as clients, however.
No, if Harry wanted to get laid, there were a thousand other methods he could employ, and only a few of them included the Imperius Curse.
One would've thought that wizards, with all of their magic, wouldn't need a brothel, when they could go and snatch a few muggles off of the street.
That, however, was illegal. But with a brothel, it was rather simple to claim that you hadn't known that the muggles were under the Imperius, and only the owners of the business would be committing a crime.
Understandably, businesses like these were generally rather sketchy, and ran by gangs and mafias, some of who were not the Aureliuses, and thus their enemies.
"You go in first," Marco said. "They might recognise me."
"Coward," Harry muttered, but complied, and moved into the room.
Immediately, he and Loki were analysing each possible threat. Two large men were sat in seats on either of the door.
Judging by the wands in their laps and the way their eyes lazily dragged over Harry as he entered, they were guards.
Neither appeared to be paying very much attention, though. Both were slumped in their chairs, and probably on some kind of drug judging by the state of their pupils.
They were there for intimidation, no doubt, to stop a fight before it began. They likely wouldn't be very good in a battle, and probably would've never had a reason to fear one.
After all, they had been in truce with the Aureliuses for quite some time. Harry was about to change that.
Behind the counter was a third man, tall and scrawny.
That didn't make much difference when you were dealing with wizards, though, and by his eyes, Harry judged him as the one who would handle himself best in a fight. He would be the first to die, then.
There were two other men in the room, both shifting impatiently. Harry immediately judged them as clients.
Five on one were terrible odds in a small room. Luckily for Harry, it wasn't five on one.
He walked up to the counter, instilling his stride with false nervousness. The man behind it grinned, revealing rows of grimy teeth.
"What do ya want, kid?" he said, spittle flying from his mouth. "We've got anything—even house elves if you're into it." He burst into laughter at his own bad joke, and Harry smiled.
"Funny. I'll have…" he trailed off. "BOOM!"
The man had a moment to look confused and startled before the front door exploded in a storm of splinters and magic. His surprise didn't last long as an icicle burst from Harry's wand and speared him through the heart.
Harry was instantly turning, "Protego!" flying from his lips.
One spell hit the hastily erected shield and immediately shattered it, and another seared past Harry's head as he stepped to the side.
He dived to the floor with a spat, "Stupefy!" A bolt of crimson sprang from his wand and splashed against the chest of a client, halting his fumbling for his wand.
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