"Thanks for the meal Professor," Harry turned to wave to his dining companions as he walked towards the line of waiting cabs, "and good luck with your inventions."
"Thank you again for your help Mr. Black," the Professor smiled, "and don't forget to meet up with us in Germany."
"I won't," Harry nodded as stepped into the first cab, "goodbye."
"Goodbye," Henchgirl waved until the cab turned a corner and faded from sight, "do you think we'll ever see him again Professor?"
"It's hard to say Henchgirl," the Professor sighed, "he may decide that it's best not to draw us into his world."
As Henchgirl and the Professor continued their conversation about the mysterious Mr. Black, across the street a similar conversation was taking place between a striking young woman and her dog.
"Stepped into the first cab," the beautiful young woman gave a rather unladylike snort, "looks like the Dutch were having us on, nobody with any training would make a mistake as simple as that, it's the first thing they teach you in training."
"Which is why we didn't bother to place tracking charms on it. By getting into that cab, he's showing us why it's never a good idea to cut corners." Her poodle replied dryly, "face it kid, we're up against the best."
"That assumption seems to rely on the reports about his prowess being true," the woman smirked, "looks to me like you're twisting things to fit your pet theory."
"Six months out of training and they think they know everything," the dog shook his head in despair, "tell me then oh wise one what did he do immediately after stepping out of the restaurant?"
"He said goodbye to the people that he ate with," the woman spoke slowly as if to a child, "then he stepped into the first cab."
"He used that as an excuse to look around, and he looked right at us." The dog corrected, "what did he do after that?"
"He exchanged a few words with the aforementioned people," the woman bit her lower lip, "then got into a taxi."
"When he turned back from his greeting his eyes swept over the line of waiting cabs, and somehow he was able to pick the one car that you didn't hit with tracking spells."
"I didn't spell the last three either," the girl shrugged, "I still don't think it proves anything and I don't see what the big deal about him looking at us was."
"He looked at you, smirked and looked at me." The dog clarified, "he did a few other things that gave him away but those were the major points and we'll talk about the rest later."
"Oh," the woman looked down at the dog in shock, "so he's really that good?"
"Yes he is," the dog nodded, "now what have we learned today?"
"That we should always track the first cab," the woman nodded slowly, "no that we should never leave a hole no matter how small."
"And?"
"And that no matter how good you are, there is always someone better."
"One more thing," the dog gave a canine smile, "the most dangerous ones always try their hardest to look harmless."
"Is that why you insisted that I groom you and tie a pink bow around your neck before we went on this assignment?"
"Uh . . . yeees," the Poodle animagus agreed quickly, "glad that you're finally starting to learn how the world works."
"In any case, we'll find out how good he is after we search his rooms," the woman shot the poodle a sly grin, "I'll bet that he won't notice any signs of our presence."
"We'll see," the poodle sighed, "now let's go, we have an early morning tomorrow and I would like to get a bit of sleep first.
Harry again awoke early and his day was filled with wondrous sights, La Musee des Armis in the morning and the Folies Bergee at the Moulin Rouge in the evening.
And so, head filled with the sights, sounds, and smells that he had experienced on his wonderful day of discovery. Harry returned to his hotel room for another night of rest.
The next day, Harry quickly discovered that after the first few days of sightseeing, his enthusiasm for experiencing new things was quickly being dampened by his hatred of standing in lines.
And after spending two hours waiting, he amused himself with the thought that Paris should have its motto changed from 'the city of lights' to 'the city of lines' due to the fact that there was a large queue of tourists lined up to see virtually everything of any interest.
"That's it," Harry muttered to himself as he gave up his place in the line to enter the Louvre, "I am not in the mood for this."
Returning to his hotel room, Harry wasted no time returning the few loose items to their place in his pack.
"I'm checking out," Harry gave a strained smile to the man behind the desk as he returned the key to his room.
"Is there something wrong?" the clerk asked quickly, "you didn't have any problems with our service did you?"
"Nothing wrong with the service," Harry assured the man.
"Then why?"
"Let's just say, I don't have the patience needed to see more of Paris." Harry replied, ending the conversation.
Walking out of his former hotel and hailed a cab, "take me to Gare de Lyon." Harry ordered the driver as he leaned back in the seat, trying to enjoy the next leg of his journey.
Not long after Harry checked out of his hotel, a group of shadowy figures gathered around a large table, to meet and discuss possible implications of Mr. Black's latest movie.
"Well, what were you able to learn by going through Mr. Black's things?" Asked the figure at the head of the table.
"We learned that it is entirely possible that Mr. Black has a type of perimeter charm that we were unable to even detect." One of the figures at the side of the table replied, "within moments of our black bag team entering his hotel room, they had to abort on orders of the observation team."
The observation team leader took over. "Mr. Black muttered 'that's it' and 'I'm not in the mood for this.' He then hailed a cab and ordered the driver to return him to his hotel. And it was then that we ordered the abort" The woman paused, "I think that it would be prudent to note that he hailed was the one that I was driving."
"I see," the man at the head of the table nodded thoughtfully. "What is the current status of Mr. Black?"
"He has checked out of his hotel room and is currently in Gare de Lyon." The head of the observation team replied quickly.
"What prompted his departure?" The figure at the head of the table asked with a raised eyebrow.
"He informed the hotel clerk that he didn't 'have the patience needed to see more of Paris.' We speculate that Mr. Black was annoyed by our intrusion into his room and decided to cut his time in our city."
"Annoyed?" The figure at the head of the table motioned for clarification.
"Yes," the Observation team leader confirmed. "His manner gave nothing to suggest anger rather," she paused, "rather similar to my reaction when I had discovered that my three year old daughter had decided to draw on the wall with crayon."
"I need a ticket for the next train leaving for Marseilles," Harry told the cashier, not noticing as his accent shifted to match his destination.
"One moment sir," the cashier nodded, "here you are, your train will be leaving within the hour."
"Thank you," Harry nodded politely as he took the ticket, "I trust that your associates will have a good day."
"Yes Sir," the ticket agent nodded back, hiding his surprise. "Will you be requiring anything else?"
"No"
It did not take long for Harry to find his train and stowing his pack, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to transition into the world of dream.
Harry pulled himself from the land of dreams as the train began to slow. Shaking his head to awake fully, Harry pulled the travel guide from his rucksack and began to read.
Marseilles at nearly 2600 years old is considered by many to be the oldest city in France. There are many interesting things that can be learned about the city and its past. But since you bought this book then it can be assumed that you don't care about any of that. On to the fun stuff, the main magical sections of Marseilles are located off the section of town known as Le Vieux Port and can be reached through several places which are listed in an appendix at the end of this section. The most discreet of these is a small alley located between an old drinking establishment named Le Lion and another old drinking establishment named L'Unicorne. The alley runs for several meters before opening up into the crossroads of the Rue de la Mal Absolu (also known as the Rue de Chiotte) and the Rue de la Saintete.
Closing the book, Harry took his first look out the window at the city of Marseilles taking in the wonder of visiting another location.
Stepping off the train, Harry raised his hand to hail the nearest cab.
"Where to?"
"Take me to the best hotel nearby." Harry paused, "after that I have somewhere else that I'd like to go if you're willing to wait."
"I'm willing," the cab driver nodded as he pulled out into traffic. "What brings you to our city?"
"Just taking a bit of time to relax," Harry shrugged.
"Sounds nice, what do you do?"
"Nothing important," Harry sidestepped the question. "How do you like your job?"
"I find it very enjoyable," the driver nodded. "Every day I get to meet new people and learn new things."
"I see," Harry nodded, "and how are the working conditions?"
"They're alright, good benefits. . . what about you, how are your conditions?"
"Not as safe as one might wish," Harry turned up his hands, "but what can you do."
"Not much, I'd guess?"
"Just got to learn to go with the flow."
"So where did you go before coming here?"
"Paris"
"How long did you stay?"
"Not long, I had to cut my visit short," Harry answered quickly.
"Why?"
"Lack of patience," Harry straightened up as the cab pulled to a stop in front of a hotel, "I hope I don't have any reason to cut short my visit to Marseilles."
"I'm sure you won't Mr. Black," the driver mumbled to himself as he watched his fare walk into the hotel lobby, "you made your point in Paris."
The driver waited for several minutes for his client to reappear.
"Take me to Le Vieux Port," Harry commanded as he got back into the cab, "there are a few places that I'd like to visit before we run out of daylight."
"Right away, any particular place?"
"A small pub called 'Le Lion' if you know where that is."
"I do sir," the driver nodded, the remainder of the ride passed in silence as the driver did not wish to annoy his passenger. "Here we are sir," the driver told his passenger as the cab slid to a halt.
"Thank you," Harry stepped out, "and have a nice day."
"You too, thank you sir."
Harry walked towards the two old 'drinking establishments' that marked one of the entrances to the wizard's section of Marseilles. Frowning in concentration when no alley presented itself, Harry took a step closer and resisted the urge to blink in surprise when the alley appeared.
Taking an experimental step back, Harry blinked when the alley disappeared. Shrugging his shoulders, Harry stepped forward and entered the alley.
The light began to fade and the air began to chill as Harry walked deeper and deeper into the alleyway.
Stopping, Harry allowed his senses to explore his surroundings and caught a bit of movement in the corner of his eye was his only warning that he was not alone.
Situational Awareness, the act of knowing your exact location in relation to everything around you in a conflict situation. Harry had developed this at an early age. Urged on by the fact that one wrong move would earn him a beating and a missed meal, he quickly learned to always be aware of his surroundings and years of Quiddich had only served to sharpen that awareness.
Reflexively turning to get a closer look, Harry hissed as he felt a sharp pain in his back.
"I don't know how you managed to move fast enough to stay alive," a dirty looking man holding a large bloody knife and dressed in rags leered evilly, "but I don't think you can do it twice."
A deep rage began to build as Harry stared at the blood covered knife, and a wave of accidental magic shot from the hands that Harry had instinctively raised.
"Nobody move," Harry's shadows arrived just in time to watch a wave of force throw Harry's attacker into the alley's wall.
Wand drawn, one of the men carefully approached the fallen figure. Kicking the bloody knife out of reach he bent down to check the man's pulse, "dead, broken neck."
One of the figures relaxed upon hearing the announcement and approached the still standing Harry, "are you alright sir?"
"I'm not sure," Harry reached back to probe his injury, "I think I've been stabbed, but I can't tell how serious it is."
"I'm a healer, do you mind if I take a look then sir?"
"Go ahead," Harry nodded and lifted his shirt to allow easy access, "how does it look."
"Give me a moment," the healer gently probed the wound with her finger, "doesn't look like anything serious was hit, give me a few moments to close it up and you'll be good as new."
"Thank you," Harry nodded in appreciation. "I . . ."
"Sorry to interrupt," another of the Law Enforcement officers commented quietly, "but do you mind if I ask you a few questions while the healer takes a look at your wound?"
"Go ahead, I just wanted to compliment you on how fast you arrived. Almost as if you were following me around," Harry joked.
"Yes, well . . . should we start," the man stammered.
"Sure, what do you want to know?"
"Why don't you tell me what happened?"
"I was walking down the alley, I stopped, saw something out of the corner of my eye and got stabbed." Harry gave a weak grin. "Then I turned, the man made some sort of threat, and I used accidental magic to throw him into the wall."
"I see," the man made several notes, "why didn't you use your wand?"
"It all happened so fast that I didn't have time to pull it out," Harry managed a weak smile, "and I guess that it's a good thing I didn't, otherwise I might be guilty of violating the laws against practicing magic in front of non magical people."
"I wouldn't worry about that Mr. Black," the man looked down at his notes, "it seems your attacker was carrying an enchanted dagger and a few other enchanted items."
"Still, he could have just picked them up by accident and I always try to stay on the right side of the law."
"I see," the man made a few more notes, "just for the sake of my curiosity, I'm wondering if you would allow me to ask one more question?"
"What's that?"
"Why don't you think the 'Self Defense' exemption would protect you from performing magic against your assailant?"
"Because I've had too much experience dealing with incompetent and corrupt officials," Harry shrugged innocently, "so I think that it's better for all concerned that I used accidental magic rather than my wand."
"I see, thank you Mr. Black." The man closed his notebook, "you've been most helpful."
"No problem," Harry smiled, "glad to be of help."
"Good bye, Mr. Black."
"Good bye," Harry nodded and then turned to the healer tending to his wound. "How does it look?"
"I'll give you a couple potions to drink and you'll be just fine"
"Thanks, you've all been so helpful and nice." Harry smiled, "even the interviewer. His technique was so calm and relaxed that I don't even remember telling him my name."
"Oh," the healer smiled nervously. "I'm sure that he'll be glad to hear that."
"Would you mind waiting here for a moment?" The woman gave a weak laugh, "I need to go talk to my boss about a few things."
"No problem," Harry agreed, "anything to make your life less difficult."
"Thank you," the healer turned and began walking quickly toward a group of gathered people."
"How's Mr. Black doing?"
"Knife missed by about three centimeters," the Healer winced as she recalled treating the wound, "I'd say this Mr. Black is either very lucky or that he has some of the best reflexes that I've ever seen."
"I see," the nondescript man grunted, "did you notice any signs of past injuries?"
"Several," the Healer turned to her notes, "multiple scars, broken bones, and some odd readings on his blood."
"Explain odd"
"I'd really like to get it to the lab before I commit myself," the woman hedged."
"I just want a preliminary report," he held his hand up, "nobody is going to blame you if you make a mistake here."
"Well," she bit her lower lip, "I was a bit worried that the blade could have been poisoned, so I hit it with a minor detection spell."
"And?"
"And the reading was off the charts," the woman frowned, "according to what I was seeing, there was enough poison on the blade to kill a hundred men. There was no way that Mr. Black could have been walking around."
"So you miscast your spell, so what?"
"That's what I thought, so I tried again using a much more accurate spell. The results were shocking." She took a calming breath, "it wasn't the blade that the blade was poisoned, it's that Mr. Black's blood contains some sort of deadly toxin. That caused me to look closer, and what I found . . . I can't even begin to explain."
"I see," the nondescript man licked his lips, "anything else?"
"Mr. Black also mentioned that Pierre slipped up and forgot to ask his name," the healer grinned, "he also complimented us on how fast we arrived, said it was almost as if we'd been following him."
"Certainly has a sense of humor doesn't he?" the nondescript man grinned, "anything to add Pierre?"
"You've all heard my report," the man who interviewed Harry replied, "I would like to ask how Mr. Black knew of this entrance, it's not exactly well known and hasn't seen much use since it was built by the Maqui."
"Good question, I'd also like to know how his target knew about this place. Do you have anything else to add?"
"No Sir"
"Then does anyone have anything else to add?" His question was met by silence, "then can anyone explain why a two bit thug was able to injure a man as good as we think Mr. Black is?"
"I might have an idea," a young woman cradling a poodle replied.
"Well then?"
"Through all of our dealings with Mr. Black one thing shines through," she scratched behind her partner's ear. "Mr. Black likes to act dumb, the one time he showed what he was capable of was when we annoyed him by entering his hotel room."
"Go on."
"We heard Pierre's report, Mr. Black arranged everything to make it look like a clear cut case of self defense and an accidental death. When we entered his hotel room we . . . confused him, he wasn't sure how to react to us so he set up a situation that would get us laughed out of court if we tried to send him to prison." She glanced down at her partner to see an approving nod, "he made everything look like some sort of strange coincidence and it frightens me to think that he was able to set this up under our noses in such a small amount to time, the level of professionalism that such a task would require boggles the mind."
"Then why do you think he chose that man as his target?"
"I might have an Idea Sir." The woman licked her lips, "forensics found the blood of several magical people on the dead man's clothing, it would look like he was targeting wizards. It is my guess that Mr. Black somehow learned of his activities and decided to execute him."
"Execute?"
"What else would you call it? He calmly walked into the alley with the express purpose of killing that man and he was able to make it look like some sort of bizarre accident, like I said if we ever tried to bring this case to court we'd be laughing stocks." The woman shrugged, "for one reason or another Mr. Black didn't trust us to capture this man and he was unsure of our reaction if he took matters into his own hands so he manufactured this."
"Sounds like the most reasonable explanation anybody's come up with so far," the nondescript man nodded, "he's made his point so with any luck he won't be so condescending when he does something like this in the future. Unless anybody has anything else to add this meeting is over, send Mr. Black on his way."
"I'll do it Sir," the healer volunteered, "I'd like to hit him with a stronger diagnostic charm, might help me make more sense of what I found in his blood."
"Fine, but don't annoy him any more than we already have."
"No problem," the healer nodded happily and walked back towards Mr. Black.
"How did your meeting go?" Harry smiled at the approaching healer.
"Fine, the boss says that you can leave any time you want," she took a deep breath, "but I'd like your permission to cast a few charms on you to get a better idea of your vital signs."
"Ok"
The woman made several complicated wand movements and muttered several rather odd incantations and finished with a rather . . . distracted look.
"Finished?" Harry asked with a small smile.
"Yeah, sure," the woman responded with a dazed look.
"Anything I need to worry about?"
"Nothing seems to be bothering you," the healer looked at her results again.
"I'll just be going then"
As he left, Harry was sure that he heard the woman mutter 'none of this makes any sense' but he chalked it up to his overactive imagination and continued on his way.