Chapter 7: chapter:7
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"Thanks," Harry drawled. Even if he ended up homeless, he was never coming back here.
"Right then," James said. "Take my hand."
I'm not a child, Harry wanted to say, but he didn't. He wondered how James felt about sarcasm. Better to hold it in.
Harry took his hand.
Without warning, Harry felt like he was being squeezed through a tube, and the world blinked out of existence. As fast as it started, it was over.
The world swam in a green haze, and he collapsed to the ground. Which was surprisingly soft like grass. He had been standing on the sidewalk. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out slowly, willing the nausea to pass.
James laughed next to him.
With a deep breath, Harry opened his eyes to look at him. His head was half turned when he stopped.
Instead of the monotonous suburban neighborhood, a large house stood stately in the middle of a lush green lawn in front of him. It was half again as large as the estate his class took a field trip to the year before. Not that Harry had been allowed to go, but he had seen plenty of pictures in the book.
Between two of the windows on the first floor, above the door, in an alcove, was a statue of a man with one arm stretched out holding a stone stick. Above him was a gabled roof with a sprawling crest on it. The crest had a cauldron in the center of it, and on the cauldron, was a triangle with a circle in side of it and a straight line bisecting it. It was an odd symbol.
"Side-Along is awful, especially the first time," James told him.
Harry just stared at him. So many questions flitted through his head. He might have no idea what was happening, but he was sure James had powers too.
"Er, right. You don't know what that is." James paused for a moment, then he reached a hand out to help Harry up. "Come on, let's get inside, then we can talk," he finished.
Harry ignored the outstretched hand. No one had ever helped him up before, and it was James' fault. He definitely didn't needs his father's guilt ridden help up.
With a look of hurt, James pulled his hand back. "Come on," he said softly, and led Harry across the lush green lawn towards the house.
The door was a large heavy thing, made of dark wood with iron banding that creaked when it opened. He was led into an entrance hall that was half again the size of the Dursley's front room. Across from the door was a fireplace large enough for a man to stand in. Three arches led off from the room, and he followed James through the one to the left. It led to a short hallway with a large marble staircase that curved upwards.
One flight of stairs up, they turned back to the right and emerged into a spacious sitting room. Shelves full of trinkets lined the front wall with a couple of squashy arm chairs in front of them. There was another large fireplace across from a set of sofas. Leaning against it were a couple of broomsticks with odd fixtures attached to them.
Beyond the sofas were two doors, and James led him through the one on the right. It opened into a large bedroom done up in browns and gold with red accents. There was a small sitting area across from a smaller fireplace with a bed and desk beyond it. Bookshelves were dotted strategically around the room. Unlike the rest of what he'd seen so far, there were no paintings or tapestries on the walls in here. It could have been cozy, except that other than furniture, the room was completely empty.
"This is your room," James said with a nervousness to his voice.
"Its nice." Big. The gold accents were a bit garish, and Harry wasn't overly fond of the color red. But, he'd never had his own room before, let alone one as big as this.
"I'll just, let you get settled," James said quickly. "I'll come back soon, and we can talk."
Harry waited until he heard the door click and James walk away before moving farther into the room. The windows opened, and it would have been a good escape route, except for the stone terrace below. He could see a pond at at the edge of the garden, with a forest just beyond it.
The desk wasn't as empty as the bookshelves. There was some parchment in the drawer along with a bottle of old fashioned ink and an actual feather quill. After confirming that every other drawer and cabinet was empty, Harry let himself through th door next to the desk. It led into an actual dressing room lined with wardrobes and shelves. He caught his reflection in the large mirror, and looked as out of place as he felt.
The wardrobes, were, unsurprisingly empty. Beyond the dressing room was an ensuite with an antique claw foot bathtub on the far wall. The cupboard in the bathroom was filled with fluffy looking towels and wash cloths.When he first saw James, Harry, to his own horror, though James might be well off. The opulence of the house and what Harry was sure had been spare room until this morning confirmed it. James wasn't just well off, but very wealthy. He had powers just like Harry did. Did he not want Harry, and only came back because he had no choice? It was a choice to decide to reserve his judgment until James explained himself.
With a sigh, Harry found where he had dropped his rucksack and pulled the snakes out. The rest of his stuff could stay packed for now.
"Never again, Master-Speaker," Morgan hissed at him. She was angry.
Hiss and Corra seemed to agree with her.
"I'm sorry," Harry told them.
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