A/N: Sorry. Took a hiatus to write a story called Wood and Stone for someone named Turtle on the fanfiction . net site, and I have to say it is great. It is a shorter story, but definitely worth the read and review… so, without further ado, here is the next chapter. Now I will say that there are subtle and not so subtle hints as to what is going on, but you will just have to read and take in what you take in. Don't forget to review, since you are reading! Play nice!
The Feast of the Three Kings (Epiphany)
Harry had thought about canceling his dinner with his neighbors. It wasn't that Sunday supper turned him off, it was that damn book. The words were haunting him. It wasn't even the part that had said that there was feast in his honor, though that did bother him some. It was the part of the story that had said in his `adopted kingdom'. Wasn't that what he had considered Golden Valley? His adopted home. He looked at the calendar, and the date bothered him. Tonight, the night of the dinner, was January 6th, the night of the Three Kings.
There were too many strange things going on and so Harry thought about cancelling. Harry probably would have if it hadn't been for the fact that David and Betsy lived right next door. Harry pulled on his favorite polo shirt, didn't even try to do a thing with his hair, and headed next door. He knocked, and was surprised to see Quinn answer the door. He hadn't really been aware that she would have been in attendance.
"Brit, how are you?" Quinn asked as Harry handed her the bottle of wine he had brought. He had only brought it because manners dictated that he bring something. Wine seemed like a safe thing to bring.
"Good, Quinn, and you? Enjoying your stay?" Harry replied. Quinn nodded.
"I do miss home, though," Quinn said softly. She smiled as she shut the door. "This is so far from Strattford-upon-Avon."
"Where is Strattford-upon-Avon?" Harry asked, thinking it sounded vaguely familiar. Quinn's face flushed deep red, as if the question was one the she should have never had to have asked to her.
"Oh, um, Betsy'll want us in the living room, since they have no formal dining room to speak of," Quinn said busily as she walked into the kitchen. Harry watched her curiously. She seemed nervous at his simple follow question, and the line from his book came to mind:
Little did the prince know that there was a friend among him, there to help him return to his kingdom and to his previous glory. The prince had been unaware, but it would become evident soon.
Harry wondered if this story was true, and if it was to be believed, could Quinn be the friend among him. Harry shivered at the thought, the hairs on his neck standing up in an awkward way. Too much didn't make sense, and yet it all fit. However, Quinn and he weren't friends. They had just met a few days before.
"Brit, thank god you came," David said hurriedly as he came out from the bedroom. David was holding his son, a little tot, haphazardly. Dribble and spit was erupting in bubbles from his mouth.
"I said I would," Harry said as he looked at the baby curiously. It wasn't a small baby, and reminded him slightly of his cousin as a baby, pink and fat. It looked at Harry curiously and grabbed at him.
"Ooh, thank god he wants to go to someone other than me," David said as he dumped the baby into Harry's arms. David retreated to the back of the flat with words of getting dressed.
Harry looked down at his neighbor's baby and tried to imagine what life would have been like to be a father. He couldn't fathom it. He wouldn't even want to try unless he could have a family with Hermione, and he knew that was never going to happen. If he believed the book, she had already married Ron. Who knows, six years is a long time. Perhaps, Ron and she already had half a dozen babies: little bushy brown haired girls and freckly red haired boys. Harry laughed.
"You have a nice laugh," Quinn said as she reentered the living room. She glanced down at the baby. "You really have a way with babies. Do you have any kids?"
"Nope," Harry said as he thwarted the small fists from seizing his glasses. "I thought I might want them one day, but I am not sure."
"Well, you'd be a good dad," Quinn said as she ran her finger along the spines of Betsy's books. "All those books in you apartment, are they for show or did you really read them all?"
"I read them all," Harry said. He smiled at the thought. "Some of them I read more than once."
"Why?" Quinn asked. She continued to look at the books, but it didn't seem like she was reading their titles.
"Why did I read them? It started because I was bored and lonely, but then I grew to love them. My best friend back home turned me on to books, she gave me my first one," Harry said wistfully deep in thought. "Now I read them for connection and pleasure."
"What was the first book she gave you?" Quinn asked as she looked at him. Harry swallowed and squinted, as if he was deep in thought. He couldn't very well tell her it was about Quidditch. She was a muggle, she'd have no idea, and he couldn't explain it to her.
"Something about flying," Harry lied. He smiled. "It was many years ago."
"Oh," Quinn said. "Well, she must have been a really good friend for you to want to read for her."
"She was the best," Harry admitted.
"What happened?" Quinn asked curiously. Her cheeks pinked, and she shook her head. "Sorry, I know that was personal."
"No, it's fine, but how do you assume anything happened?" Harry inquired as he watched her face.
"Oh, well, I just assumed that since she isn't with you here in hell, and there weren't any pictures up of her that something must have happened," Quinn lied. Harry saw how nervous she was and he knew she was lying.
"Nothing bad, she married my best mate and had lots of babies," Harry lied. Quinn's eyes went wide and she looked like she might say something but then her watch chimed.
"Oh, sorry, have to go take my medicine," Quinn said as she silenced the watch. "Diabetic," she murmured, as if that answered that. Quinn disappeared into the kitchen and rejoined Harry, Betsy, and David a minute or two later.
"Well, I saw we eat," David said as he glanced over at his son sleeping in Harry's arms. Harry hadn't even been aware that the kid had fallen asleep. "Shoot, Brit, we can't never get him to go to sleep. You goin' to have to come an' put him asleep e'er night now."
"David Joseph King, really. Now, that is just laziness on your part," Betsy said as she took the baby. She smiled at her son. "He's a good boy; you've just got to spend more time with him."
"I know, I know Bets, I get it," David growled. Betsy gave him a look as she walked out of the room that had David clamping his mouth shut. He stood and poured the wine. Quinn shook her head.
"Sorry, none for me," Quinn said smiling. "Interacts with the medicine I am on, and I don't want to end up in the hospital."
"Yeah, `specailly since the nearest one is `bout a half an hour away," David said as he drained his wine in one gulp. Harry didn't drink his as quickly, but he drank it fairly quick still just the same.
Dinner was quiet and uneventful, and Harry begun to loosen up and relax. It didn't even bother him that two times during the three hour dinner and dessert Quinn had to go take her diabetic medication. He thought that it must be awful to have such a condition that required medicine on such a regular basis.
Harry said good night to them after dessert and headed alone to his apartment. He pulled off his nicer clothes and tossed them in his hamper before settling on to the couch with his book and a blanket. He was averse to reading it in bed anymore, but found the words were just as creep.
After the feast of the three Kings, James knew that the time was coming to an end in his adopted kingdom. Though he was still uncertain, he could feel the change on the wind. His enemy, neither new nor unknown, had found him and was coming after him, to finish what the evil king had failed.
His friend, his beloved Jane was near, but her life was in danger, as her husband, James' dear friend, had been slain. The enemy, known as the White Serpent, had slain him in hopes of drawing James from the kingdom. Holding her only child hostage, Jane was forced to seek James in hopes of luring him home.
Jane, a shape shifter by choice, deceived the man she loved to say the child she had bore to the man she had married, but never could completely give her heart to.
The prince, James, in a fit of fury brought about by Jane's deception, went to the gypsy fortune teller and begged her for a potion or spell or antidote, because despite Jane's marriage, James wanted nothing more than to be the one that rescued Jane and her child from the clutches of the White Serpent. Jane had deceived James, but it was a forgivable deception.
"This is ridiculous," Harry murmured as he pulled on his shoes. He needed to see if Mrs. Jordan still had the shipping crate this book came from. The story was certainly not something that muggles would tell their children. It was too strange. He tried to flip ahead in the book, but the pages acted as if they were glued together. He had found the last couple of times, but thought nothing of it until now. He had to read, and actually read, the book to be able to turn a page. It was maddening.
Harry ran as fast as his legs would take him to the muggle book shop, the leather bound book in his hand. He was panting and thankful the shop was still open. Mrs. Jordan didn't look up, but continued to feel along as she put various books away. She took her seat behind the counter, perching upon a wobbly stool.
"Brit, what brings you out again this late? Surely you are not done with that book I gave you earlier this week," Mrs. Jordan crooned as she looked out the window.
"Well, no, I am not done," Harry said quietly. "It's actually this book I wanted to talk to you about. It tells me what is happening. Well, sort of. Like here, it says that the prince in a fit of fury blah blah blah, went to see the gypsy fortuneteller."
"Did you go see a gypsy fortuneteller after reading this?" Mrs. Jordan asked lightly. Her bright blue eyes sparkled eerily.
"Well, no," Harry said frowning. "I came here."
"Sometimes, we see parallels in the stories we read, my boy," Mrs. Jordan said softly. Harry shook his head.
"No, this is more than parallels," Harry said.
"Does this book name you by name?" Mrs. Jordan asked curiously.
"Erm, no, but it does use my father's name: James," Harry said quickly. He felt a wave of foolishness crashing over him. It really seemed so unlikely now that he was saying it aloud.
"Dear, James is common name, like John or Harry. But, perhaps this is your father's story? Maybe you remember it from your childhood," Mrs. Jordan offered.
"I don't know, I doubt it. I never knew my father," Harry said frustrated. "And, anyways, the book won't let me read ahead."
"What do you mean?" Mrs. Jordan asked frowning. "Are the pages blank?"
"I don't know," Harry said. "They remain fused, glued shut, until I read it."
"Hmm, interesting, Brit. You have an interesting book their, son, almost magical," Mrs. Jordan said thoughtfully. Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps, you should read it with great caution."
Harry opened the book up, resting the book on the counter top. He flipped to the last page he was able to read, and naturally the next page was released to him. He read it aloud to Mrs. Jordan.
Unknown to him, the prince climbed aboard a golden chariot that was enchanted and took to flight among the heavens, in search of the child of his beloved. Hidden among strangers, more transparent then a ghost, was his love, hidden in plain sight. She had been with him for days, haunting his dreams and denying him sleep to open his mind to the possibility that she had always been there, by his side, for three long years. It had been three years since her Hank had died, and Jane had been away from her child, trying upon trying to get James to return.
"Interesting, Brit," Mrs. Jordan said as she wiped her eyes on a handkerchief she had pulled out of her pocket. "I think it is a tragic love story."
"But what does it mean?" Harry implored.
"I don't know," Mrs. Jordan said. She scrunched her face up. "It is queer though that you mentioned a golden chariot."
"Why?" Harry asked.
"Well, down in Chlorine, there is a new smaller airline that opened up. It does chartered flights on a plane called the Chariot 281. They have nick-named it the Golden Chariot because it is a canary yellow plane. It flies wherever you may want to go. In fact, oddly enough, I am visiting my great grand niece and I am flying from Chlorine to Strattford-upon-Avon," Mrs. Jordan said with a slow and deliberate voice. It did not go unnoticed by Harry.
"Did you say Strattford-upon-Avon?" Harry asked slowly. Mrs. Jordan nodded.
"Yes, to visit my great grand niece," Mrs. Jordan said. "She came to retrieve me for a little holiday."
"I have to go," Harry said quickly.
"Ok, well let me know how the book turns out when I return, Brit," Mrs. Jordan said cheerfully.
"No, I mean I have to go with you," Harry said. He looked around the book store. "She's here, isn't she? Your great grand niece."
"Oh, dear no," Mrs. Jordan said smiling. "She went to have dinner with the three Kings, and a boy she called Harry."
A/N: Ok… so how is that? Did you see the subtle and not so subtle clues? As always, I love to read and respond to your `theories' and such. Don't forget to review!
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