Capítulo 224: 5
IX. Skill Set
Another distinctive thing that can set you and your followers apart from the rabble is a special skill. Whether a spell that is kept a closely guarded secret or more broad talents, a distinctive tool gives your allies another advantage to use while building up your reputation.
Press coverage of Harry's misadventures in France varied wildly. In France herself La Gazette Magique spoke of him. (translated, of course):
The Wizarding Hero's Visit to France
[The picture shows Harry Potter next to the slumped corpse of a tremendous wolf. The caption: "Potter the Beast of Gévaudan"]
Hero of Wizarding Britain Harry Potter (see a recap of his exploits on page 8) has apparently taken a visit to France- and racked up his own series of accomplishments.
The Beast of Gévaudan- a notorious man killer long thought to have died from old age- made a reappearance, only to fall to Potter's wand. Reports say he kept the pelt- but that isn't the only thing he gained in his trip to France. The Cheval Mallet, menace of nighttime travellers, has been captured by Potter and placed in a stable, where it can no longer lure people to their death.
Those who have spoken to Monsieur Potter say that he found the horse in the Vendée and then rode it all the way to Provence without being thrown or killed, all in a single night. How true these rumors are is uncertain, but it seems definite that Potter is a force for good.
It is believed that Potter has left the country in his own boat, headed for destinations unknown.
The news even reached England, where the Daily Prophet spread the news.
HARRY POTTER, BEAST HUNTER?
Many of our loyal readers have been interested in keeping up in the extraordinary life of wizarding bachelor celebrity Harry Potter, and it seems that he's chasing more than just vampires now.
Reports from France claim that he has killed one magical beast- a sort of wolf-like creature- and taken its pelt, in addition to taming the French equivalent of a Kelpie, called the Cheval Mallet.
Of course, that wasn't the only thing Potter was paying attention to in France- much of his stay took place in a Veela commune in Provence- what he got up to there, we cannot fully say, only that Mr. Potter recently left by boat...
The Quibbler had a take on Potter's adventures as well:
Harry Potter Slays the Beast of Gévaudan- A Distant Relative of the Prophet's Editor In Chief?
Harry still received letters from France- Monsieur Delacour was now encouraging him to write their correspondence solely in French, as practice- and Harry got the distinct impression that they had bitten off a bit more than they could chew with Harry's horse.
It had certainly accomplished the job of being a stud, and Delacour was optimistic about the upcoming foals, but the Cheval Mallet was growing upset without Harry around- it had introduced its hooves to several unfortunate stable hands. Not fatally, thankfully, but there was a disturbing undercurrent to the letter that seemed to imply that it wouldn't stay that way along.
Admittedly, once the aches and pains of riding that horse had faded into a (slightly more) distant memory, Harry had to admit that taking it was probably a good idea, at the very least because it could go on a rampage or something, or even just return to its mankilling ways in the wild. There was also a worried undercurrent in Delacour's letters that seemed to suggest that the horse was steadily eating its way through large portions of the budget. Harry had no interest in burning bridges with Delacour over something as silly as horse feed.
But if Harry was going to do stables, he was going to do it all the way- no half measures for his castle, Harry was certain. He would devote an entire space-expanded floor to stables, just to make sure they had space to run around… but he wouldn't stop with just the one, either.
Harry wrote a letter to Hagrid, explaining that he had come into a tract of land (technically true) and would be more than happy to take some of Hagrid's excess off his hands, especially any Hippogriffs or Thestrals. Of course, any notes or books on caring for such creatures would be tremendously appreciated…
Of course, while Hagrid was a good friend who was more than happy to oblige Harry's request, secrecy was never really one of his strengths…
The Prophet went on to report that Potter was gathering a magical menagerie- something to complement the Veela, vampires, and other creatures he had? Whatever the case, news of the land was intriguing as well- the Prophet went all in, looking at financial records and even trying to ask Gringotts.
Typically, the bank would have denied such a transparent attempt at violating the privacy of a client- but an exception could be made for Harry Potter. At least, they tried to find something about Potter purchasing land, any record about taking out Galleons to buy- but nothing. The Prophet expressed interest in where exactly Harry Potter had gone to live- it was a mystery that definitely intrigued people.
The Quibbler suggested several magical creatures (which lesser journalists would dismiss as 'non-existent') to fill Potter's menagerie.
Attempting to write a book on Parseltongue was more difficult than Harry first expected- there were a lot of nuances in every little sound you couldn't capture by just writing "hiss" or "hissss". Composing some sort go Parselscript would be completely useless for snakes (they couldn't read, after all) except as a means to teach people how to speak the language itself.. but that was what Harry was trying to do.
Harry managed to get the vampires to give learning it a try, and bit by bit they worked their way through the most fundamental basics. Harry could hold flowing conversations in Parseltongue and even had a bad habit of lapsing into it while teaching- the vampires were stumbling through Parseltongue, so his brain just seemed to flip the switch automatically. It all sounded like English to him, after all.
Still, the average wizard probably didn't need to be fluent in Parseltongue- even the basics of "please don't bite me" would be useful on their own. Harry had come to respect snakes- it was hard not to when you could talk to them- so he figured if a few more wizards could reach peaceful resolutions with snakes, that would be neat.
Of course, the book was still a work in progress- he couldn't exactly say it was an expert guide on how to speak Parseltongue if he hadn't brought someone up to fluency yet… His efforts were slowed slightly by his own efforts to learn languages, along with making room for the horses- both his own, the Cheval Mallet, and the ones that Hagrid did seem willing to share with him.
Still, that meant a trip to France to pick up the horse- and Harry figured he could take some stops along the way. If the horse was actually rideable, Harry was willing to give it a second shot (after applying cushioning charms, for obvious reasons).
On the way back, Harry seized on the opportunity to look around Spain a little- he thought the castles were remarkable, especially the Alhambra. Unfortunately, Harry couldn't replicate some of the castle's features- courtyards and arcades (as in a covered pathway with arches, not a video arcade) were less practical for vampires, for obvious reasons. Harry was unsure if enough cloud cover would keep the vampires safe, and he didn't want to test it.
The domes and intricate carvings were interesting, as were the ghosts that haunted the place- Harry supposed that he met the ghost requirement when it came to his castle, at the very least…
He took a quick stop in Barcelona while he was in the area, marveling at the architecture- and the stunning magical quarter. Harry was surprised to learn that the Catalan magicals had managed to separate themselves from greater magical Spain. There was some definite animosity between them and the Confederación de Magos Españoles , which thankfully didn't really lead to anything while Harry was there. They sold him books and didn't try to kill him, which was fine by Harry.
Harry almost bought spurs from a metalworker in Barcelona, but stopped when he realized exactly what sort of horse he would be poking those bits of metal into… he did get horseshoes, though.
Harry resolved himself to eventually learn Spanish, at least for the sake of the Americas. With the exception of Brazil, practically everyone from Mexico down spoke it. There had to be some interesting stuff there, whether from native magical traditions (which Harry refused to believe died out completely) or just European magic left to develop differently half a world away…
Even as they sailed towards southern France, Harry was already imagining another trip to the Americas, even just Canada and the United States- he didn't get much opportunity to see the country outside of Savannah, unfortunately, and very much wished too. The idea of riding across vast and endless plains sounded appealing- even if Harry had no clue if those vast plains were still around or if they had all been plowed over…
The Cheval stared at Harry warily as he approached, giving him what could best be described as a suspicious look as Harry creeped over, an apple in one hand and his wand tightly grasped in the other.
"Hey there… uh, buddy?" Harry tried to remember what lessons he could from riding hippogriffs, and something told him the show respect thing was important.
After a moment, the horse trotted forwards and ate the apple in a single bite. Harry gave it a careful pat and pulled out the horseshoes- oh, this was going to be nerve-wracking.
Thankfully, not a single hoof found itself implanted into Harry's skull, and soon enough Harry was riding it (after resaddling it, of course. Harry wasn't loony enough to attempt riding bareback)
The creature still tried to buck him, but if Harry wasn't going completely crazy (which was a minor possibility, he would admit) he would have said it was almost… playful, done with the expectation that Harry was good enough to not get killed. It also seemed to stifle in reins- sure, it would eventually get Harry where he wanted to go, or at least the vague direction, but it would choose its own paths. This was probably a good thing, as Harry didn't really know what the horse was capable of.
After trying to tucker it out with a day of riding, he guided the horse on board his ship- it didn't seem to approve, but Harry's whispered reassurances that it would only be a little while seemed to reassure it.
For the remainder of the trip, Harry tried to keep an eye on the horse- this did cause some minor problems when it tried to crush the neck of a snake Harry was interviewing for his book on Parseltongue (and potential Parselmagic?). Of course, the Cheval stifled in the enclosed hull of a ship, so the moment they could they landed in Wales, to do a bit of a look around before meeting back up with the boat.
Why Wales? Well, it was a place that Harry hadn't seen before, which was reason enough, but he also wanted to take a look at the castles, which dotted the Welsh countryside. As the English pushed in, fighting against the Welsh, they needed somewhere to retreat to, therefore, castles. So many castles.
A part of Harry was also curious if there would be anything especially interesting there, magic wise…
Some things about Wales were basically business as usual when it came to Harry's trips- castles, ghosts, tourists missing the good stuff- although Harry did find people gawking at his horse pretty funny. He supposed he did look odd- a man on horseback, but definitely not a reenactor…
The fun part was the things that no muggles had seen in a long time- or at least, believed they had seen. Traces of the fae.
Harry was certain the Welsh probably had their own name for them, but Harry figured fae were fae no matter where they were, giggling at him from springs and brooks or appearing in the corner of his eye in the woods.
Thankfully, none of them seemed actively malevolent- Harry wasn't sure what he would be able to do to hold them off, other than possibly throwing the Cheval's horseshoes at them. Wizards had presumably done… something to house elves, to basically domesticate them as opposed to the wild and free Fae that flitted around the edges of his vision here, but whatever it was, Harry didn't know and wasn't sure he wanted to know.
After a bit of riding around, he found himself at a fairy ring (or had the horse led him to it?). And this one seemed like the genuine article, as far as he could tell, the air almost swimming with magic, the faint sound of giggling echoing around him as he approached the circle of mushrooms.
Some part of him knew there was probably a perfectly reasonable muggle explanation for these things- but he knew magic.
When his horse crossed the precipice, the first thing Harry felt was an urge to dismount, an urge to dance to the odd, bell-like laughter of the fae who were undoubtedly watching him. His foot was hanging mere inches above the ground before he remembered the inherent danger of playing with the fairies.
He quickly put his foot back in the stirrup and let his horse wander for a bit inside the circle… he really hoped this wasn't some sort of Rip van Winkle years passing in moments sort of thing. After a moment the Cheval Mallet began to paw aggressively at a spot in the middle of the circle, digging up the earth with its hooves.
At first, Harry wasn't sure if it was a weird horse thing or a weird magical thing- maybe French horses could sniff out truffles or something?- but eventually the shod hooves scraped against wood. There was the top of something- a container of some kind, kind, rather obviously made of wood, buried underground. Harry took a careful look around, but no fairies appeared in his vision- of course, they hadn't before, but what he was doing did run the risk of offending them…
Unearthing the container revealed it to be a sort of basket or hamper, composed entirely of a dark wood that almost seemed to hum with magic. Opening it revealed no cavernous insides- just wood. Whatever magic it held, it wasn't apparent to Harry immediately.
The fae didn't seem to be objecting to Harry taking the basket, so he did- after making sure to refill the hole that they had dug up. No reason to leave things worse than they found them, even if Harry found this entire fairy escapade a little disturbing- there was something… off about that circle.
Harry was understandably hesitant to stick anything inside the mysterious magical basket, for fear of how it might react to literally anything, but eventually figured that it would stay relatively useless if he didn't eventually test it. And if it was just an unusually magical feeling basket, that was perfectly alright- it's not like baskets weren't useful. So he rode into a town on horseback, amazed a few small children, and filled the basket with some produce.
It was later, while setting up a sort of picnic lunch in a charming, non-fairy infested, meadow, that Harry realized what the basket's deal really was. When he opened it, there was a lot of food. A lot more food than he remembered buying- a lot more food than he could practically eat, even with help from the horse.
Suddenly, the basket seemed more useful. A lot more useful. Admittedly, he didn't really want more seafood in his life at the moment, but the sort of use this simple hamper would have for his castle would be incredible. All of the food looked good- a lot better than the sort that Harry would have made if he tried to multiply food by himself, not to mention the sheer quantity.
The horse got three apples that day- out of what could have been up to a hundred. Harry realized very quickly that he had found something remarkable in that fairy circle- it would certainly help keep his island self-sustaining. And Harry liked the idea of not being quite so dependent on Britain anymore- they already fished up food, and if Harry could get decent greenhouses going… well, Harry was certainly thinking of what the chaps in magical Catalonia had managed to accomplish.
X. Self Sufficiency
Independence is kind of a loaded word, and has several definitions. Being financially independent or self-sufficient is always a good thing for a villain- sure, it's a good idea to bleed your supporters dry if you can manage it, but not being dependent on external help can be good for a movement. Don't be afraid to accept support from powers abroad- but definitely don't become dependent on it. Stay lean and efficient.
Of course, there is also the matter of independence in a more political sense- a potential option, if you don't quite have the strength to overthrow the government you struggle against- defending a position is much easier, especially if your base is fortified…
The basket was well received when Harry brought it home- multiplying food so easily was an incredibly useful thing, even though it seemed to have a built in cap in never managing to multiply food more than once. Of course, infinite food was probably too much to ask for, even from magic.
Mary did some research in the library and concluded it was a legendary item, and critically, it was part of a set of thirteen. The thirteen treasures of Britain were another set of potent magical objects, and they were old- Arthurian legend levels of old. One of the objects was apparently a mantle belonging to King Arthur, one that seemed to function exactly like his invisibility cloak- so either there was another truly permanent invisibility cloak floating around, or it had probably crapped out a thousand years ago. Harry kind of hoped for the first, just because the latter was incredibly lame- the basket had retained its magic, after all, so Harry was hopeful. Thankfully, Harry seemed to have gotten one of the good ones as opposed to, say, the chess set that played itself.
Still, Harry felt an urge to collect them all, now that he had one part of the set. Of course, he had absolutely no idea if it was possible, if any of the items were destroyed or otherwise inaccessible (like locked away in Gringotts, yikes) but it sounded interesting, and a lot less likely to blow up in his face than the whole master of Death debacle- the Elder Wand could stay where it was, thank you very much!
Of course, Harry wouldn't be opposed to a magical tool with a bit more oomph, as much as he loved his holly wand. Something without the baggage of the elder wand- like a staff. They sounded cool, especially if Harry could have it made of thestral hair, which he would hopefully be getting a supply of soon… Veela hair was also a distinct possibility, if Harry could smooth talk a Veela into cutting her hair- he thought quite a few of them would look good with their hair cut short… but a Veela would almost always look good, so that wasn't necessarily saying much. This would require finding a wandmaker, of course, but Harry liked the idea.
It sounded kind of nutty, admittedly, but Harry kind of liked the idea of just divorcing himself from magical Britain. Maybe not in an official sense… he'd just like them out of his hair. Or more out of his hair, he supposed. The number of things he'd need in order to be truly independent would probably be impossible, but he was certainly willing to try it.
To help towards this ambitious goal, Harry constructed a few greenhouses- he made sure to really, really mark out those doors, even putting a few gentle wards in place that would keep vampires out- he informed them, of course, not wanting them to replicate his misadventure in first year by barging through a secure door. In general, the vampires were uncomfortable even approaching that end of the castle, and for very good reason.
The Veela had agreed, at least in theory, to tend to the greenhouses, but as Harry started going a little crazy with the space expansion charms he began to realize that he might have bitten off a little more than he (or the Veela) could chew. Neville received quite a few letters asking about all the possible ways you could use magic to help with farming and gardening in the upcoming days.
It turned out that the Veela were slightly less willing to help when they were informed the greenhouses were crawling with snakes- even though they were perfectly harmless insect eaters that had been ordered to not hurt humans. Still, several of the Veela proved willing to give it a try, on top of learning Parseltongue- it was something more productive to do than just sitting around and looking pretty.
Harry's next adventure in the Americas started in a familiar place- he did stop by and say thanks to the boys at Pulaski, to thank them for the advice, before riding inland. Unfortunately, Harry couldn't exactly ride a horse into Atlanta without raising a lot of awkward questions, on top of the obvious logistical issues of riding a horse through traffic.
Harry had managed to use magic to keep any police officers from getting too interested in him… that turned into a little bit of a problem when Aurors showed up- or whatever the Americans called their equivalent. They shot by on brooms before circling overhead.
"Can I help you?" Harry shouted up to them.
"We're just wondering what you're up to- you're not from around here, are ya?"
"No- came in from Britain- did I need to get a visa or something?"
"Not quite, but we try to keep an eye on any foreign magicals wandering about- the Statute, and all that."
"That's funny, you didn't show up the last time I was here." Seeing one of the aurors raise an eyebrow, Harry explained. "Does the Human Vampire Coexistence Society ring a bell?"
The auror was quiet for a moment before bursting into laughter."Yeah, we tend to be a little less fanatical about this sort of thing 'round that time. Those nut-bars need all the help they can get." He smirked. "You don't seem like the type, though- not pale enough, not sticking to your lady like a limpet…"
"Oh, it took me a good few moments to realize it was that sort of affair." Harry chuckled.
"You seem like you know enough not to collapse the statute, but there's paperwork we have to do, so can I get a name?"
"Harry Potter."
"The boy wonder?"
Harry snorted. "I suppose that's me."
"This is gonna sound weird… but can I get an autograph?" The auror was quiet for a moment. "For my kid, of course. Bit of a fan."
"Never knew I was that famous…" Harry chuckled before pulling a pen out. "If you wouldn't mind, could you tell me a bit about American wizards? I do want to try and see everything…"
So that was how Harry had ended up in Appalachia. As interesting as the great plains sounded (Harry definitely wanted to see a thunderbird) the Appalachians were a lot more convenient, and a few of those incredibly rural towns happened to be magical, their isolation only compounded by spellwork. From what he was told, some of the communities were basically hybrid- magic had appeared, the news had spread like wildfire in the tiny town, and the whole community fiercely resisted any attempts at wiping their memories… Magic tended to provide enough benefits that going even more off the grid was worth it for those mixes of muggles and mages.
Perhaps because of their rural nature, the magical communities Harry bumped into were all fascinating- they tended to be extremely isolated, even if some of the magicians had gone off to get educated at Ilvermorny or any number of other magical schools. They had built up some proud magical traditions of their own, borne from generation after generation of magicals storing up wisdom.
Some of them also handled snakes. Harry was fascinated by that- apparently, it was some sort of religious thing, but the magicians had turned it into a refined, 'miraculous' art. The sort of quasi-Parseltongue that the magicians had developed was clearly just the gift of tongues, their abilities with what Harry couldn't help but think of as Parselmagic just a mimicry of Aaron and Moses, who turned their staffs into snakes…
Harry was only slightly terrified to learn that the normal, muggle folk handled the snakes as well, and that they just figured it was their time if they got bitten. Some part of him almost wished that Voldemort had that sort of bold acceptance of mortality- it certainly would have led to Harry having a better life.
He had some interesting conversations with the wizards themselves- they were definitely a little suspicious of a wizard just traipsing in from the outside world, but they usually proved fairly open to exchanging notes- lots of practical, survivalist spells on their part, while Harry brought his own studies of bizarre magic. They also compared notes on talking to snakes- he could serve as an intermediary, and more than once he was asked to basically tell the snakes to please not bite anyone, thank you very much.
Most interesting was an odd sort of healing magic a few of the magicians had developed, one that involved actively handling snakes during the process, using them as something like a foci in lieu of a wand. Harry didn't really get a chance to try it out, but he took notes and made a lot of promises- to write to several of the Appalachian wizards and witches, and to send them copies of the Parseltongue instructional text he was working on.
He also got a few snakes out of the deal: timber rattlesnakes, cottonmouths, and copperheads in the venomous camp, and ones like kingsnakes that weren't, Harry honestly thought that the little kingsnake wasn't much compared to the mighty basilisk, but he wasn't going to tell it that, for fear of souring their relationship. The poor thing was already stand-offish with the other snakes Harry had gathered, but for very good reason: it was called a kingsnake because it killed other snakes, after all.
Suffice it to say that Harry's horse was not very happy with having to carry around a bunch of snakes on its back, even with Harry keeping them calm and somewhat orderly- it felt like he was bucking a lot more as they headed back towards the coast to get picked up.
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