Chapter 24 Veela can be Friendly

"Hello Madeye," Remus nodded to the older man. "Any reason you came early?"

"Had something to tell you," the old Auror nodded. "And I wasn't sure if you'd want others around when I did."

"What is it," Remus paled. "Is it about Harry?"

"No," Moody shook his head. "It's about the man who bit you."

"What do you need to know about him?" Remus frowned, "I don't know much, I was just a kid when it happened."

"I don't need to know anything about him." Moody gave a terrifying smile, "he's dead."

"What? How?"

"Looks like he was out recruiting," Moody shrugged. "And he had the misfortune to run across Mr. Black."

"How did he die?" Remus asked with morbid curiosity.

"Not sure," Moody shrugged. "I'm told that he was poisoned and stabbed, but my sources aren't the best in that part of the world so I could be wrong."

"But you're sure he's dead?"

"I'm sure," Moody nodded. "Of that I'm positive."

"Thank you," Remus closed his eyes. "It's good to know that he can't hurt anyone else."

"Figured it might be," Moody nodded. "Goodbye Remus."

IIIIIIIIII

Harry arrived in an empty town square and looked around, most of the businesses seemed to be closed but one of the shops appeared to be open. Figuring that the shopkeeper would know of a suitable place to get a room, Harry walked in.

A bell rang as Harry opened the door and from the back of the shop he heard a faint, "just a moment."

"Ok," Harry replied.

"Now then," the shopkeeper smiled. "What can I do for you? Mr. . . ."

"Black," Harry smiled. "I was hoping that you would know of a hotel or some other place that I can get a room?"

"You came a bit later than I expected," the man shrugged. "But you've still got time, have a seat . . . it won't be long."

"Thank you." Harry sat down, glad that the shopkeeper was arranging a place for him to stay. "How long do you . . ."

The bell on the front door rang, interrupting Harry's question and admitting several cloaked figures.

"Right on time," the shopkeeper smiled. "I have your supplies ready, do you want to pay now or have me send you a bill?"

"Send us a bill," a young female voice answered. "I'm surprised that you're not alone, they usually try to avoid us."

"He's not from around here," the old man replied. "Not a bad fella though."

"Oh?" The woman turned to look at the seated Harry, "you look familiar."

"I have that kind of face," Harry gave a nervous smile.

"He's Gabrielle's savior," another female voice spoke up. "I recognise him from her pictures . . . he looks a bit older now than he was then."

"Why are you here 'arrie?" The lead woman gave an unseen smile.

"You can see through my disguise huh?" Harry sighed, "I came because I was curious about the place that Victor came from."

"That silly field is nothing to one that possesses our . . . talents," the woman nodded. "Where are you staying?"

"I'm not sure," Harry shrugged. "The shopkeeper was going to find me a place to stay."

"Then you must stay with us," the woman settled the matter. "It is the least we can do for Gabrielle's famous savior."

"I wouldn't want to be a burden," Harry smiled. "How do you know Gabrielle?"

"It is no burden, I insist that you stay with us, Gabrielle is our cousin." The woman took his hand, "and our cousins would never forgive us if we let you go off and stay in a dirty inn when you could have stayed with us."

"Alright," Harry nodded. "I wouldn't want to cause you any trouble."

Harry stayed with his new friends for several days until finally after a long goodbye, Harry managed to leave their hospitality and get on with his vacation.

Staggering into town, Harry walked into the nearest open businesses and walked painfully to the bar.

"Afternoon," the bartender greeted. "Something I can do for you?"

"Yes," Harry's jaws were clenched in pain. "I'm going to need to speak with a Healer of some sort."

"I'm a Healer," the man at the end of the bar spoke up. "What can I do for you?"

"I think I might have broken something in my waist," Harry replied in a hiss. "And I feel a bit sick to my stomach."

"One moment," the Healer waved his wand and frowned in concentration. "You're right about the pain in your waist, it looks like you have several hairline cracks in your pelvis."

"Oh," Harry groaned. "What about the fact that I feel sick?"

"Dehydration," the Healer replied. "Drink these two potions and you'll be fine."

"Thank you," Harry downed the Potions. "Now does anybody know where I can arrange transportation to Sofia?"

"Right here," the bartender spoke up. "The bar doubles as the travel agency, few other things too."

"How much?"

"Twenty Levs," the bartender pulled out a glass marble. "Do you need anything else?"

"No," Harry replied, accepting the marble. "One sec . . ."

"Thank you," the bartender smiled, accepting payment. "Have a good journey.

"Thank you." Harry managed a weak smile just before the Portkey pulled him away.

"Wasn't that the guy that went off with that group of Veela a few days ago?" One of the random bar patrons asked quietly.

Eyes widened as the men considered the question and the bar was shrouded in silence until the bartender licked his lips and asked, "what were his injuries?"

"As I said." The Healer spoke to the spellbound group, his voice filled with awe. "A cracked pelvis and a severe case of dehydration."

"How do you suppose that happened?" The bartender asked quietly.

"Lots of ways, for example." the Healer's eyes widened. "It couldn't be . . ."

"You don't mean?" The bartender blinked, "he can't be human."

"Did anyone get his name?" The Healer asked excitedly.

"Black," an old man spoke up from the back of the room. "When he visited my shop, he told me his name was Black."

The bar patrons were frozen in shock, eyes widened even further.

"Well," the bartender moistened his lips. "I suppose it makes sense, if anyone could survive a pack of veela, it would have to be the mysterious Mr. Black."

IIIIIIIIII

"Good afternoon sir," a uniformed man greeted Harry upon his arrival. "Is this your final destination?"

"No," Harry was still feeling a bit tired and sore from his time with the veela. "I'm going on to Moscow."

"If you like, I can arrange that sir."

"That would be fine," Harry nodded. "How much?"

"Fifty levs," the man smiled.

"Fine," Harry paid for the portkey. "How long until it activates?"

"Just say Moscow and you will be on your way"

"Thank you," Harry gave a weak smile. "Moscow."

Harry did not enjoy the trip to Moscow and he made a silent vow to learn some other means of transportation besides portkeys and floo.

"Purpose of your visit?" A plain faced woman in a drab uniform asked in a board tone.

"Meeting a friend," Harry yawned.

"Your name?"

"Black," Harry yawned again.

"First name?"

"Mister," Harry smiled.

"You may pass through"

"Thank you," Harry popped his neck as he walked through the entry gate.

Behind him, the woman calmly put up a 'next window' sign and left to inform her supervisor.

Harry pulled his zippo out of his pocket and found a quiet place to have a conversation.

"Professor?" Harry called into the small flame, "are you there."

"I'm here Mr. Black," the Professor smiled. "Thanks to your generosity in promoting Henchgirl's potion making talents, we will be able to meet you sooner than we had hoped."

"Great," Harry smiled. "How soon?"

"Sometime after dark local time," the Professor smiled. "We could get there earlier but we felt it prudent to go slowly on the shakedown cruise."

"Whatever you want," Harry nodded. "I was planning on spending a bit more time here, but if you're early then I guess I'll have more time to visit a few other places."

"Excellent," the Professor nodded. "If I might make a small suggestion . . ."

"What's that?" Harry smiled.

"Why don't you travel with Henchgirl and I?" The Professor gave a wide grin, "we were planning to take the next month or two to go on a prolonged expedition to test the Zeppelin."

"Where are you planning to go?" Harry shrugged.

"Egypt," the Professor gave a wide grin. "After that, wherever you wish to go. Henchgirl and I have no preferences."

"Sounds good," Harry nodded. "I'll spend the day looking around town and meet up with you tonight."

"See you then," the Professor gave one last grin before clicking his lighter closed.

"Now how am I going to spend the day?" Harry muttered to himself. Shrugging his shoulders, Harry walked out the front doors to hail a Taxi.

"Where to?" The cab driver asked in a disinterested tone.

"Show me around the city," Harry smiled. "I want to see anything you might think would interest me."

"You can pay?"

"And tip very well," Harry smirked. "I don't have much time in the city and I want to enjoy it."

"If you can pay," the man nodded.

Harry and his driver spent several hours touring the city. Harry saw things that he couldn't have imagined seeing in his childhood and delighted in the city's atmosphere.

"Thank you," Harry leaned back in his seat. "There is just one more place that I'd like to visit, then I'd like to find a good bar."

"Where?"

"I want to see the yellow building in Lubyanka," Harry smirked.

"No problem, it's not so far." The driver nodded. "After that I know of a very good bar, very classy."

"Thank you," Harry smiled. "Tell me when we're there."

"We're there," the driver nodded. "As I said, very close. Look to the left."

"Wow." Harry shook his head, seeing it on the television did not do the old building justice. "I never expected to see it like this, it doesn't seem the same without the statue in front of it."

"It's a bit strange." The driver agreed, "the bar now?"

"Yes," Harry nodded. "I have a bit of time to kill, and I can't think of a better way to kill it."

"It will be a few minutes until we arrive," the driver offered. "Relax."

The driver stopped the cab in front of an unremarkable building, "it doesn't look like much. But inside, it is very fancy."

"Thank you," Harry pulled out his wallet. "Do you have any currency that you'd like to be paid in?"

"US Dollars," the driver smirked. "If possible, if not . . ."

"No problem," Harry handed over a few twenty dollar bills. "Thank you."

"Tell them that Danya brought you," the driver shrugged. "They give me a finders fee for bringing you."

"Alright," Harry nodded.

"Goodbye," the driver rolled up his window and sped off.

Harry walked through the building's double doors and was stopped by an elegantly dressed man in a dark suit.

"Can I help you?"

"Danya told me that this was a good place to get a drink," Harry smiled.

"Name?"

"Mister Black"

"I . . . see," the man in the dark suit nodded. "He's been waiting for you, table in the back corner."

"Ok," Harry approached the back table cautiously.

"Have a seat," the old man at the table nodded. "I've been expecting you."

"Why?" Harry took a quick look around the room.

"Because I know the merchants and they sometimes tell me things," the old man shrugged. "So sit and enjoy yourself."

"Thank you," Harry sat. "Mr?"

"Winter," the old man gave a cold smile. "Have some vodka, I had them bring out a bottle of Posolskaya and I don't want to drink it myself."

"I'd also like to get something to eat if I can," Harry accepted the glass.

"I'll have them bring something out," the old man downed his glass and poured another.

"Thank you," Harry downed his glass. "Why did you want to see me?"

"To give you this," the old man handed over a worn leather bound book. "Weather magic, works best during the winter but it can be used every day of the year."

"Thank you," Harry accepted the book.

"I owed them a favor," the old man shrugged.

"Thank you all the same." Harry smiled.

"Enjoy your night," the old man stood up. "I'm afraid that I must be going."

"Goodbye," Harry raised his glass in salute. "And have a pleasant evening."

"I shall," the old man nodded. "And thank you Mr. Black."

IIIIIIIIII

"Hello?" Laetus Lovegood, Publisher and Editor of the Quibbler appeared in front of a large bronze faceless statue.

"Hello," a man greeted him. "Who might you be?"

"My name is Lovegood, I'm a reporter."

"O . . . k"

"I was hoping to ask some questions about a man named Mr. Black," the odd man smiled. "Perhaps you've heard of him."

"That's him," the local indicated the statue. "Local legend says that if you pat the statue's right foot then you'll be lucky with women, and if you pat it's left foot then you'll get a healthy child."

"Really?" Laetus looked up at the statue in astonishment, "how long have they said that?"

"Bout a day now," the local shrugged. "Tradition has to start somewhere."

"I couldn't agree more," Laetus nodded. "Why did it start?"

"Well," the local sat down. "Few days ago, Mr. Black came to town and then left town with a pack of veela soon afterwards."

"That is impressive," Laetus nodded.

"I'm not finished," the local smirked. "He came back a few days later, had a bruised pelvis and he looked like he had been doing some sort of strenuous activity."

"That's to be expected," Laetus shrugged. "So what?"

"Six hours later, three veela came into town." The Local's smile widened, "they were so tired that their normal charm wasn't so strong and one of them mentioned that the others were still asleep."

"I . . . see," Lovegood's eyes widened.

"Yep," the local nodded. "That's why we put up the statue, any man who can wear out a dozen veelas deserves to have his own statue."

Mr. Black and The Dozen Veela

by Laetus Lovegood

There exists a town in one of Bulgaria's more remote regions that has two unusual features. The first is the fact that it is located near a large concentration of veela, the second is that it boasts a large statue of Mr. Black. Locals believe that this statue grants special powers over matters of love . . .

. . . Mr. Black returned to town to greet a group of shocked towns folk . . .

. . . it was only after the exhausted veelas shared their story that the true nature of the events was realized . . .

IIIIIIIIII

"Sir, Black has met up with a small man and is leaving the country."

"Did he do anything of interest while he was here?"

"We're not sure sir," he shrugged. "He lost the men assigned to follow him, we do know that he visited headquarters."

"Do you know what he was doing there?"

"No sir," the man shook his head. "We don't."

"Then tell me something you do know"

"He told the customs agent that he was meeting a friend," the man began. "He was later seen drinking with the General."

"I see"

"Sir?"

"The General has always been a patriot, but not in the usual sense. He will protect the country from invasion from outside but he has always refused to pick a side in the internal conflicts."