NOVEL NEXT Chapter 9: chapter 9
The man paused at that and looked deep into his eyes. Harry's legilimency could feel desire, greed, and longing for what such a deal could do for his family, but also reluctance to damage the business relationship he had with the men who bought his summer crop.
"I can buy your goods every year for the next three years."
"…"
"…"
"How much do you want to buy?"
YES! Harry did a little mental jig while keeping his face impassive. "How many acres do you grow?"
"Five."
"So, you yield, what? Three to five kilos?"
"I have four kilos now. By tomorrow, I will have another one kilo."
"And your price?"
"Well, normally we would sell for 1,750 Lira per kilo, so your rate would be 3,500 Lira."
Harry could see the mental math flying through the man's head, the margins, expected bluffs, and mild hope to get an even better deal. "Ahhh, I know what this sells for, sir. I can pay you 2,500 Lira for each kilo." That put the price below the man's true price by the exact amount the man had priced above it.
The man smiled knowingly, seeming to slip into full-on haggling mode, and placed a big arm around Harry's shoulder. "Oh. My friend. You know I am taking a big risk selling to you. I cannot take less than 3,250."
"Well, I understand about risks… See here, I have the money, right here, for our deal." Harry brought out a wad of bills from his pocket. "2,750 and we can do the deal right now for the first four and I'll come back tomorrow for the last one."
"Ahh, You drive a hard bargain. Tell you what," the man said while patting Harry firmly on the shoulder, "You go up, I go down, that is the way of things, Yes? We meet in the middle. Three thousand a kilo and we both have a fair deal. Okay?"
"Okay," he said smiling, turning around and holding out his hand.
They shook.
Harry was soaked. The rain poured down from the sky in torrents, giving not one wit to the precious cargo he had stored in his backpack, wrapped up in a dozen layers of plastic bags and wrapping.
The cloudy night sky made it pitch black and he could barely see in front of his nose. The only good thing, he reflected, was that if he couldn't see anything that meant no muggle on the British coast, looking out to sea, could see him either.
He was nearing the border wards now, he knew. He could feel the slight hum of their magic against his skin as he floated forwards. The buffeting of the wind was making it very difficult… Ah. There. Yes. He could just sense the first ward in the line — the wizard detection ward. He concentrated on the space, some five metres in front of him, and with a definite, crack, felt the weight of the ward shift from his front to his back, only to be replaced with a new magical pressure in front of him, the anti-apparition ward line.
Harry continued his forward push, feeling the magic of the ward build up as he passed through and dim down as he came out the other side. The final ward, a key-in portkey ward, presumably for sanctioned international portkey travel, was similarly flown through, and Harry found himself back in good old English airspace, still soaked to the bone of course, but it was definitely English rain now.
He hoped it was a bit dryer up in Scotland before disappearing with yet another loud crack.
It turned out to be quite a bit nicer in Scotland. After many, many cracks, Harry arrived in the Outer Hebrides to a choppy wind, but no rain. This did mean that Harry was now getting cold, fast, and it took several warming charms to counteract the biting Scottish wind.
Flying over the islands that made up the archipelago, Harry soon found what he was looking for — a small island, steep, rugged, no sign of human inhabitants. He landed next to a cliff face and immediately got to work.
"Defodio!"
The gouging charm ripped through the stone, creating a very definite indent in the cliff face. He kept his focus on the charm and watched as it started to hollow out a cave.
Several hours later, Harry was exhausted, but had succeeded in digging himself a passage way leading to two hollowed out rooms. Really. He collapsed against a corner wall. Things would be a lot easier if he could just use Gringotts for his bank vault. But he really didn't want to have to explain where he was getting constant influxes of muggle money. Much better to deposit it all in one go when he introduced the wizarding world to Lord Slytherin. Plus it would be good to have an emergency stash in case Gringotts was unavailable for whatever reason.
Having gotten his breath back, Harry picked up his wand and conjured a small camping bed, complete with sleeping bag, threw up a notice-me-not on the entrance, along with a couple of temporary detection and muggle repelling wards, and lay his head down for a good long kip.
FWHOOOOOSHHHHH!
Heat and light filled Harry's world.
"AAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNGH!"
A roar, louder than anything Harry had ever heard, shattered through whatever final remnants of sleep he'd been hanging on to. He struggled out of the sleeping bag and snatched at his wand. He was still in the cave he'd dug last night, but something seemed to be making a good attempt at joining him.
FWHOOOOOSHHHHH!
Outside the doorway he'd carved last night, leading to the hallway that led straight to the outside world, a train of fire was crashing its way through his makeshift hideaway. The heat was incredible.
When the fire stopped, he pounced over to the doorway, cast the strongest shield charm he knew, rolled into the corridor, and aimed down his brand new, powerful as hell wand, ready to take on whatever the world had thrown at him.
Filling the space of the entrance of the passage was a head — a head with midnight blue scales, spikes, and a few sharp teeth visible along a large closed mouth. A single dark-blue eye pressed against the passageway opening. It was a dragon.
"FUCK!" Harry shouted, rolling back into the room he'd been in before, just as another train of fire thundered past where he'd been crouching moments earlier.
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