Mr. Potter and his power ch.3

She lifted her chin and looked around with curiosity. It was unfathomable that she would find herself in this place - right in the heart of bustling London. As soon as she stood at the foot of the impressive building, she felt the extraordinary atmosphere of the place. She had seen it on pictures of the British capital, rising majestically about two hundred meters high, with the price per square meter proportionally increasing with its height. The building had been designed by a world-renowned architect hired by the Black family, who had carefully selected the materials and colors to create a harmonious whole. No beggars could reside in such a place. Harry Potter didn't seem to belong there either. According to Daphne, the reception hall was breathtaking, despite the slightly modest entrance that didn't give away what was behind the doors.

The walls of the entire hall were covered with massive wooden panels that were graduated and arranged in such a way that the panels were largest at the ceiling and gradually became narrower as they descended towards the floor. The richness of textures, color harmony, and exceptional craftsmanship made the space breathe with elegance. There was a beautiful scent in the air; perhaps it was resin or wax that added a certain charm to the surroundings. Although the room was as large as the Great Hall of Hogwarts, for a brief moment, Daphne felt like she was in a very safe and cozy environment. Golden, silver, and pink reflections created crystals on the walls of a contemporary chandelier that hung from the ceiling. The delicate light, flickering like drops of dew, reflected off every surface, creating an almost fairy-tale atmosphere.

"Good evening..." The concierge's voice was majestically soft and muted, but it commanded respect from the listeners. The first thing that came to Daphne's mind was that this building must be intimidating because it didn't let strangers inside. The elegant man, dressed in a dark suit, seemed to be an integral part of the interior design.

"Good evening. I wanted to see Harry Potter, so I came here," she said with a slight nod of her head, trying to hide her nervousness.

The concierge silently and carefully ran his fingers over the computer keyboard, which was cleverly hidden behind the reception desk made of massive, dark wood. His face was stone-like, almost impassive, as his fingers moved quickly over the keys. He handed her a card with a gentle smile, still in complete silence.

"To the elevator, please. Please move all the way to the right," the concierge pointed in the direction with his long, slender finger, keeping it in the same style as the rest of the interior design.

Daphne followed the direction indicated, admiring the décor of this exclusive building with every step. She felt her heart beating faster as she approached the elevator. In the midst of such luxury, she felt like an intruder. Even the Malfoy family's mansion paled in comparison to this opulence. The elevator doors were made of mirrored, polished metal, reflecting her like a mirror, giving the impression that endless spaces surrounded her.

As the elevator doors closed, tension grew within her. She knew that this meeting with Harry Potter could be a turning point for her life. With each floor the elevator passed, Daphne wondered what life was like in such a place, where every detail was perfected to excellence. She imagined Harry leading her through the corridors of his luxurious apartment, revealing the secrets hidden behind the doors of this extraordinary place.

Finally, she arrived. The elevator doors opened with a quiet sound, and a corridor stretched out before her, its decor matching that of the reception hall. Daphne took a deep breath and determinedly walked towards the door behind which Harry Potter awaited her.

"We're on the fortieth floor, right?" Daphne asked, suddenly unsure if she had remembered the address correctly.

"Please follow the instructions on the card. You won't be able to leave any floor other than Director Potter's floor, but you'll be able to arrive at any other floor," his voice seemed to emanate from the walls of this luxury tower in the center of London. The acoustics here were incredible! Maybe even more enjoyable than in the prestigious Royal Albert Hall. Daphne's thoughts were filled with joy as she followed Harry, and her inner voice whispered, "Sibelius' violin concerto would sound divine here!".

Heading towards the elevators, Daphne inserted the card into the reader. "On the fortieth floor," she repeated. Elevator B greeted her with a soothing voice that seemed to emanate from the walls. That was when Daphne understood what true luxury was. When you leave your own apartment, which you paid tens of millions of pounds for, you have a guarantee that you won't run into any of your neighbors or their guests. You won't come across a lost traveler in the elevator, you won't run into anyone handing out flyers, and you won't be surprised by the smell of cheap edamame pizza instead of mozzarella. The entire neighborhood enclosed in luxury walls kept ordinary mortals at a distance.

When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, they were greeted by a spacious, refined lobby. Daphne, mesmerized by the elegant finish, momentarily forgot her task. Her attention was drawn to the large, massive wooden doors to the left of the entrance. They were richly decorated, and in the central part of the door, there was a crest that seemed to be the Potter family's emblem. In the background, one could hear distant but distinct sounds of classical music, which gave the whole place an aura of uniqueness and exclusivity.

The magical atmosphere in Harry Potter's living room was undeniable - everywhere you could sense the scent of mysterious potions, and the portraits on the walls watched Daphne's every move. On the table lay a fascinating collection of magical artifacts and spellbooks, and in the corner, on one of the shelves, there was a cracked gold mask of a Death Eater, an artifact acquired during the war. All doors leading to other rooms were boldly open. "Hello?" Her voice sounded muffled and uncertain as she walked down the long, gloomy corridor of the building on one of London's mysterious streets. The walls were lined with dark wallpaper with intricate patterns that seemed to relate to secretive events. The corridor was lit only by dimly lit candles hovering in the air, their flames subdued by spells that caused the trembling light to cast incredible shadows on the floor and walls.

"Harry? Please come in, if you may," Potter's voice was audible and commanding in this environment. Perhaps it was because the sound came from a place located more forward, most likely from the living room. Daphne began to move in the general direction. She let out a surprised cry when she stepped into an area of light, which was cast by a massive, spherical lamp floating in the air with a bulging, golden surface adorned with intricate designs. The lamp emitted warm, cozy light that reflected off the antique furniture, covering the walls in a golden glow ("Like the sun!" she thought with joy).

There were only a few pieces of furniture in the living room: a leather sofa with visible signs of wear and tear, a velvet-upholstered armchair that seemed to beckon to settle down with a good book, and a heavy oak table piled with various magical items. In one corner of the room stood a magical telescope mounted on a giant ornate tripod, with runes carved into it.

Despite the living room's extremely large size, it seemed practically empty. Floor-to-ceiling windows were the most visible element of the room. The breathtaking panorama of London caught the eye. Almost immediately, Daphne realized that the windows faced north, towards Camden. She approached the glass in an almost magical way; the glass was impeccably clean and shiny, without a single fingerprint or speck of dust. In front of and below her, she saw The Shard hotel, rising proudly above the cityscape. Further to the left, she could make out the London Eye with its tall, rotating capsules, which seemed to be suspended in the air. On Diagon Alley, there were three ancient concrete slabs that could be seen if you looked down. The charm of this magical alley filled the air with the scent of elixirs and spells.

The magical atmosphere in Harry Potter's living room was undeniable - everywhere, the smell of mysterious potions and old magic could be felt. Portraits on the walls watched every move of Daphne, and cobwebs hung in the corners, sparkling with dewdrops. On the table lay a fascinating collection of magical artifacts and spell books, their thick, parchment pages filled with ancient, intricate formulas. In the corner, on one of the shelves, there was a cracked gold Death Eater mask, an artifact obtained in the war, whose delicate, intricate chain seemed to dance in the air.

Everything in this place breathed magic and mystery. Daphne felt that every object, every detail, had its own story waiting to be discovered. With curiosity, she roamed the room, trying to delve into the secrets of this extraordinary world in which Harry Potter had gained his legendary fame.

Once again, Daphne looked out the window at the streets filled with people. From this perspective, they looked like magical toys that had been randomly dropped on the ground in a land of giants. The buildings and streets of London seemed like an endless maze, where magic and reality intertwined at every turn. The sun reflected off the glass roofs of the buildings, creating a kaleidoscope of light and shadow that made the whole city seem to come alive.

Daphne stood up, unaware that Harry was approaching her. Since he was barefoot, the stone floor didn't make even the slightest sound when he walked on it. It made perfect sense. He was dressed simply, in a plain white linen shirt and similar jeans, but his eyes betrayed an unusual power. "When I first entered this space, I had the same thought as you. This place serves as a constant reminder to me that London - this magical city - is mine. You, Miss Daphne, are mine..."

Daphne was surprised when she turned around. He was standing quite close - too close. His eyes, as green as poplar leaves, drew her gaze and made it impossible for her to look away. She wanted to step back, but there was only a precipice behind her, and only the glass separated her from the warm body of Harry. Now she had the ridiculous thought that the glass must be too thin and that to avoid falling, there was no choice but to run away. "You will serve as my assistant. That's exactly what I had in mind, thanks for asking! Please, have a seat," he said dryly. He didn't look her in the eye, turned around, and walked away deeper into the apartment.

The interior of Harry's apartment was extraordinary, filled with magical items. Elixirs of various colors and properties were arranged on the shelves - from a bright red potion that seemed to pulsate, to a venomously green liquid that produced a dense fog. The walls were decorated with portraits of ancient wizards and witches who seemed to watch passers-by from their frames. Strange magical artifacts hung from the ceiling, such as silvery spheres that seemed to hover in the air, or scrolls of parchment from which one could hear whispers of secret spells. The floor was covered with magical runes that shimmered with a golden glow as he stepped on them, and every step seemed to echo in the surrounding space.

All of this together created an aura of mystery and fascination that made Daphne feel both intrigued and disturbingly uneasy. This space was like an enchanted world where anything was possible, and the boundaries of reality were lost.

Harry led Daphne through the apartment, showing her the various rooms. In one of them stood an enormous ancient map depicting London along with mysterious symbols that seemed to indicate hidden places and corners full of magic. In another room, there was a massive telescope pointed towards the sky to observe the stars and planets, and on the floor, there were intricate patterns that undoubtedly held significance for ancient wizards.