Harry Potter and The Druid's Call

Harry Potter and The Druid's Call

Chapter One

Floored

Harry's groan was muffled by his pillow as he struggled out of a deep sleep. The loud screech of his aunt assisted him. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and stared, bleary-eyed at the door. He remained this way for several minutes, struggling against the last vestiges of sleep when the deep booming voice of an obviously annoyed Uncle Vernon yelled from the other side of the door. Harry rubbed his eyes and jammed his glasses onto his face. Uncle Vernon screamed something unintelligible from the other side of the door and stormed away. Harry listened to the groans of protest from the steps as his uncle unmercifully put the whole of his immense weight upon them before going to the closet and pulling out a shirt and shorts that looked more like they belonged to a woman eight months pregnant than a fourteen year old just entering puberty.

Harry shook his head and reminded himself for the umpteenth time that he needed to shrink his clothes, or get Mrs. Weasley to do it for him. He growled and slammed the closet door, eliciting a yell from the kitchen below.

*Why can't I go to Ron's place. It's been weeks and not so much a peep had been heard from the Death Eaters or The Dark Lord!*

Harry knew his reasoning was unsound, but he found it difficult to be analytical of the situation when he had to suffer Dudley's whining about how little food he got, and Uncle Vernon's long and boring speeches about fine wines, which he claimed to be an expert on even though he'd only been in the business less than a year. Harry, still grumbling about his ill-fortune, made his way down the stairs' two at a time, his lithe body inducing much less protest from the step than from his uncle or cousin. He entered the kitchen, where Dudley was scowling at his empty plate and staring at his fathers greedily. The aforementioned father was paying no attention to his meager breakfast of apple slices and carrot sticks, as his eyes roamed through a vintage wine magazine. He noticed his son's staring and pushed his untouched plate towards his son. Dudley reached for it hungrily, but recoiled sharply when Aunt Petunia's wooden ladle cracked down on them with lightning speed.

*She wouldn't make a bad Beater,* Harry thought, but then he just sighed sadly and took his seat.

Uncle Vernon resumed his reading as if nothing had happened. Harry still wasn't positive what had sparked his uncle's sudden interest in wine other than that one of his employees had somehow managed to talk him into it. His name was Max and Uncle Vernon could often be found speaking to him on the telephone. Every time one of these conversations took place Uncle Vernon made sure no one was near enough to overhear.

Harry couldn't care less that his uncle had discovered a new source of income as it didn't influence his status in the Dursley household the tiniest bit. In fact the only thing Uncle Vernon seemed to be doing with his money was building a wine cellar under the house. Harry had only been in it once and so far it was still incomplete, but was extremely spacious and Uncle Vernon was sparing no expense in its creation. It had imported teak wood for the floors and walls and shelves, which were built right into the walls. It also had a state of the art cooling system to ensure that the wine lasted even in the worst summer swelter. The floors were being laid as he ate, or rather snacked in Harry's opinion.

Harry finished his food and got up to leave just as Uncle Vernon decided that he would put down his magazine.

"Stop right there boy," he growled, "You've got work to do. The workers in my cellar need help since some of there workers took sick, so I took the liberty of volunteering you to help," he finished.

Harry wished he could wipe the sickly sweet smile off of his face with a well placed hex or two. Harry exited the house through the back door, but not before hearing Aunt Petunia complain about lazy lay-abouts who expected everyone to do everything for them.

Harry wore a heavy scowl when he entered the cellar. Several of the workmen looked up at him but quickly went back to work when they met his icy emerald glare. One met his stare and got up, and walked over to Harry.

"Hello, you must be Harry," he said in an accent that Harry couldn't identify, "your uncle told me you'd be coming but you don't exactly fit the description your uncle gave, nor do you look like an incurable criminal."

Harry's scowl deepened, but the man smiled. "The name's Less," he said holding out a hand that looked like roughened wood.

Harry took the hand, it felt rougher than it looked and Harry grimaced as the grip tightened.

"You can start by laying down carpet in the side room over there," he said indicating with a finger the doorway, " It's what all the rookies start out on, talk to Nick he'll show you the ropes. When you're done in there you can help out laying down the tiles in the bathroom."

Less went back to his work and Harry wove in between the hunched over workers to the door. The side room was more like a living room and when Harry entered he found six men sitting in badly made chairs. Two appeared to be drifting off to sleep and a third was slumped over and snoring. A man stood and walked over, he had a slight limp but hid it well. Aside from Mad-Eye Moody Harry doubted he'd ever seen such a grizzled looking man.

"Grab a seat outta that room and then I'll tell ya all ya need to know about flooring an then your on yer own."

The man had a voice like rocks being ground together. Harry grabbed a chair from what he guessed was the future bathroom. It looked as if it had been added on as an afterthought and in all likelihood it might have been considering how absent minded Uncle Vernon had been of late.

Harry sat down and listened patiently while Nick ground out everything he knew about laying carpets and tiles. Nick jumped around a lot; often going back to something he'd forgotten. Harry found it hard to remember everything. When he finished Harry asked why they weren't working. Right on cue and before Nick could answer large burly men began carrying rolls of carpet. The only other man awake besides Nick went around waking the rest up. The six workers and Harry filed out of the room to help bring in the carpet. An old blue van was parked in the middle of the Dursleys' backyard. Harry smiled at this, Aunt Petunia would go ballistic when she found the tire tracks in her lawn. His smile vanished, however, when he tried to lift the rolled carpet. He tried imitating the other men by putting it on his shoulder like the other men. Unfortunately for Harry his shoulders were not nearly as wide as theirs nor his arms as long. Harry tried anyway. His legs wobbled under the weight. Stubbornly he locked his legs and tried to take a step. As soon as his foot left the ground he lost his balance and fell backwards. The plastic wrapped cylinder came crashing down on top of his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Harry lay there listening to the raucous laughter of the men who so easily did what he could not. Harry stopped glaring and started focusing on taking a breathe with the weight of the carpet keeping his chest from rising.

The offending object was lifted off of him and he sucked in air as if he was new to breathing. Harry pushed himself up, and turned to thank whomever it was that had helped him. The words died on his tongue as he meet the stony face of Nick. He gave Harry a look that said all too clearly that he shouldn't waste Nick's precious time with such matters. He stalked away but not before shooting daggers at the rest of the crew who were standing around idly and chuckling. That shut them up and got them back to work. Harry realized his mouth was hanging open and he closed it quickly. He'd never thought he'd meet a person who could possibly be like a Snape-Moody hybrid but he had, and a Muggle no less. Harry scowled again, everything made him think of Hogwarts and the magical world. Shoulders slumped he followed everyone else down into the cellars. The original six men that Harry had found in the room were there again with the addition of seven rolled up carpets. Now that the thick plastic was unrolled he saw that the carpet was red with gold designs . Harry almost tripped over his own feet. Gryffindor colors. If Harry hadn't known better he'd think that Uncle Vernon was doing it deliberately to taunt him. Five of the men unrolled the carpet and began flattening it out while Nick supervised. He turned his stare on Harry and he didn't need words to know he meant he should put Nick's coveted knowledge to use and quickly if he valued his life. Harry bent down to help flatten out any air bubbles that popped up. When it came to stapling down the carpet Harry was pushed roughly to the side by Nick. He took Harry's place on the floor and Harry watched from the doorway. All the workers were fast, stapling long lines in quick succession, but Nick was by far the fastest. He had the longest side and was still done before the others were halfway through. Nick stood and glared at everyone in the room separately. They seemed to work twice as fast under his withering glare and the first part of the carpet was laid. Nick walked over to Harry, his limp making him seem even more formidable. Harry swallowed uncomfortably.

"You think you can handle it?" he growled.

Harry nodded not trusting himself to speak. Nick handed him the stapler and nodded his head towards where two of the others were busy stripping the plastic from the second roll. After getting the air bubbles out again he began stapling. He placed them a little less than half an inch apart. Going slowly at first he began picking up speed. His quick hands and eyes placed the staples perfectly, soon he was done. He got up slowly expecting everyone else to be done and waiting impatiently for him to get out of their way. He turned and was more than surprised to see that no one else was halfway done. Nick was glowering at him from the doorway. He limped over to Harry.

"Think you're pretty quick do ya?" he growled menacingly, "We'll see just how quick when ya race me."

By now all eyes were on the pair and not a hand moved. Nick rounded on them, "Get back to work, and hurry up so I can show this little smart ass whose boss."

The men finished in less than a minute in a half. They wasted no time in unrolling the carpet and taking care of the air bubbles. Harry was wondering what was going on when Nick grabbed a stapler and pointed to one side of the room.

"You take that side first one to the middle of the top wins, and know this boy, I've never lost and I don't plan to start now," he said vehemently.

Harry was slightly frightened of the man, but was determined to prove he wasn't the worthless little child everyone thought he was. One of the men took a position at the finish line while another stood in between the two combatants.

"GO!"

Harry began stapling like his life depended on it, and by the look on Nick's face it just might. Every time his stapler landed it was in the correct spot and almost before the staple had left it the stapler it was off to the next position. He came to the last side and was aware of Nick arriving at the same time. Sweat beaded on Harry head and trickled down onto his face. He redoubled his efforts. Harry's stapler hit the final spot and Nick's nearly came down on top of his. He had not even noticed Nick coming closer. He jerked his hand back and stood up. He eyed Nick warily as he too stood up. They stood staring at each other for a long time, and sweat continued to form on Harry's head. The look in Nick's eyes was unreadable. He was dimly aware that there were many more people in the room than there had been. Obviously the word had spread.

Nick blinked, then smiled at Harry like a long lost son. The smile looked foreign to the man's face. He stuck out his hand and Harry took it, grateful he wouldn't be dying today.