Chapitre 240: 21
XXXXI. Surprise
Having an ace up your sleeve is always a good thing- you never know when you might find yourself back into a corner. Having back up plans prepared can certainly save your skin, and can also serve to build your reputation, both through the spectacle of rare magics, and for being dangerous. For knowing more than enough to put someone else in the ground. Ideally, you don't want to have an ace up your sleeve- try an entire deck.
Going to Uagadou was an informative experience, even if Harry did face some stumbling blocks, language wise. He managed to get copies of some of their English books on wandless magic in exchange for copies of his own book on Parseltongue, which they planned on translating. Of course, there was no reason for Harry to refuse…
He also got to do a bit of showboating with the staff, which was always good fun. Getting kicked around by the wandless dueling club was… less fun, but it was a learning experience. Unsurprisingly, Expelliarmus was a lot less effective when you were fighting someone who didn't use a wand…
"Ugh," Harry muttered as he got back to his feet, "if I had my staff I'd mop the floor with you."
"But you don't have the staff." His opponent gave a smug grin before helping him up. "You won't always have one of those glorified sticks with you."
"It's not a glorified stick!"
"I beg your pardon- it's a stick with an animal part on the inside."
Harry couldn't technically disagree with that definition, even if it did rub him the wrong way. They walked to the side as another pair of students prepared to duel, taking a seat in the stands.
"Want a cig?"
"I'll pass. Aren't they bad for you?"
"I'll remind you that you're a wizard, Potter. If you can't scrape some tar out of your lungs maybe you deserve it." With that, the wizard used his fingertip to light his cigarette.
While Harry didn't really have interest in smoking, he would admit that the sheer utility of being able to cast with your hands was incredible. It made some sort of sense, now that Harry thought about it- if you could channel magic through dead wood and magical parts, why couldn't you use a living magical being? In fact, the magical bring you knew the best- you.
Thankfully, he graduated past the party trick stage pretty quick, and could start doing the real fun stuff… he couldn't summon a cyclone with a wave of his hand, but he had already become rather infamous for his habit of using harsh winds during duels. Knocking people off balance was a useful trick, at least.
Still, as interesting as Uagadou was, he couldn't stay there forever, at least without paying tuition. Their curriculum was very interesting though, to the point where Harry wanted to include some of the stuff he learned when he began to homeschool Teddy.
His next stop would be Zanzibar or thereabouts- it was, in the past, something of a trade hub, and Harry hoped to find some magical history. It was while sailing into the harbor that Harry noticed a very familiar sailing ship in white and black…
As if magnetically attracted by the idea of fancy things to buy, Harry found himself in the markets of the city, and they certainly didn't disappoint.
One of the craziest shops Harry saw was a custom wandmaker- a bit of a surprise, given Uagadou's famous wandless curriculum, but the city was something of an entrepot- who used unusual materials for his creations: ivory and bone. There was something a little chilling about those pure white wands, and Harry decided to pass.
Some part of Harry wondered if the merchant pandered to foreigners visited the region- although Harry didn't really think wand replacement was a big market- considering that other sellers were providing slightly more reasonable options. Gloves were made of special materials that wouldn't impede spellcasting or were just fingerless, for example- presumably because it was better for sending spells out of your fingers.
Still, there was the typical magic stuff like cauldrons, scales, telescopes, and the like, but there were also things that Harry didn't recognize: tools for divination included things like dice or other items made from bone- he had no idea if the use of dice or any use device to tell fortunes was any more effective than tea and crystal balls, but he didn't particularly feel like investigating.
Wandering the markets was pleasure enough, but despite some searching on his part he didn't find hide nor hair of Jean Paul. Not surprising, really- there was more to the magical world than just marketplaces, after all. There seemed to be an entire magician's quarter, complete with narrow streets and buildings that seemed a touch too tall and wobbly to be perfectly mundane…
It was while meandering around that Harry eventually caught a glimpse of Jean Paul, departing from a building that looked rather official and ceremonious- perhaps the ministry branch of this island, or just the house of someone unusually rich? Whatever the case, it didn't seem that the man was too busy…
"Jean!" Harry waved at him, and after a moment he caught his attention.
"Oh, Potter."
"Is all I get an 'oh'? Really?"
"Yes. Now what brings you here?" His eyes narrowed at Harry.
"I was travelling," Harry shrugged. "Seemed as good a place as any to stop."
He wasn't entirely sure if Jean believed him, given the raised eyebrow, but he continued asking questions. "Did you find anything interesting while travelling?"
"Oh, nothing much, just Kumari Kandam."
"That Kumari Kandam?" Jean choked out.
"Are there any other Kumari Kandams I should know about?" Harry asked. "Of course, it's the Kumari Kandam- lost Tamil civilization and all that."
His expression seemed rather sour- why ask all these questions if you weren't liking the answers? "What did you find? Gold? Relics?"
"I found people- it was lost, not destroyed."
"If it was lost, where did it go?"
"Underseas- I can get you a map, if you'd like?"
"Really?" Harry wasn't entirely sure why Jean was so shocked- why would Harry try to monopolize the location of an entire people? He certainly didn't want to be their only access to the outside world.
Jean huffed. "Well, if you're telling me about Kumari Kandam, I suppose I'll tell you about a lead of my own…"
If you were to travel into inland Africa, there were the ruins of a city- the Great Zimbabwe, called as such to distinguish it from some of the smaller ruins in the region, which were also called zimbabwes. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was located in Zimbabwe. Jean had informed him of the site, and interestingly, the magical quarter that the muggles hadn't found yet.
Despite the fact that they were going to the same destination, they went about several different ways- Jean had shot off before Harry, and he couldn't really be bothered to try catching up to him to travel together…
The ruins were impressive- Harry was reminded of Japan's stone walls without mortar- and it also evoked more than a little curiosity in Harry. No one knew exactly who had once lived here, which kings had ruled the area, and Harry was curious… if he got a name, could he maybe try using the Resurrection Stone to investigate? There was some sort of rule about this wasn't there? Six degrees of separation, or something? He hoped he wouldn't have to summon too many people to get an idea…
While considering who he could possibly ask about this sort of problem, they wandered off into a part of the ruins that the average person probably wouldn't have seen- the Magician's Zimbabwe. The most striking thing was probably just scale- everything was a little bigger, just because magic eased labor, and the buildings seemed a touch less structurally sound, but the connection between the two complexes was obvious. It seemed that whatever had caused the muggle portion to fill into disrepair had struck the magical portion as well.
The walls were quite high- in fact, worryingly high, considering the lack of mortar- and they hemmed in their vision. Admittedly, it made Harry a touch antsy, and he was almost tempted to start casting spells to shore up the walls.
While very carefully not poking at the walls, Harry caught a scent on the air- a couple of other people, distinct from Harry and Jean's scents. He was almost tempted to ask if Jean had caught the same smell, at least before remembering he probably didn't have nearly as keen a sense of smell.
Perhaps it was just tourists… but constant vigilance suddenly came to mind again, to the point where Harry froze in mid-step.
"Potter?"
"I don't think we're alone." Harry said quietly.
Jean palmed his wand, and the two of them crept through the narrow space between the high walls- Harry peered around one of the walls, heard a shout of "Reducto!" and leapt back a moment before a spell slammed into the stacked bricks, sending fragments flying.
Well, that wasn't good. He looked at Jean for a moment before they both rushed deeper into the magician's Zimbabwe. It made Harry upset that these mysterious wizards- curiously, ones with wands- were willing to wreck a historical monument, but he certainly wasn't going to die for the sack of a historical monument. You could probably repair it with magic, right?
"You know how to duel, right?" Harry asked as they sprinted deeper into the ruins.
"Of course, I'm not some-"
"Great. Could you disillusion me real quick?" Harry asked, before immediately shifting into his animagus form. Thankfully, Jean's shock wore off quickly enough, and he cast the spell that made Harry invisible before taking up a sort of defensive stance.
Meanwhile, Harry flew up to get a better grasp of their situation- thankfully, they weren't outnumbered, with just two men as their opponents. The thing that really caught Harry's attention was their clothes- no pureblood Harry knew would ever be caught dead in camo (except maybe Astoria?), although that didn't guarantee their goodness, considering Harry's close call with near-reduction.
Harry landed and became human again- still invisible, neat- and informed Jean. "Just two of them."
Jean jumped something fierce. "Don't do that!" He hissed.
"Hold down the fort, I'll flank them?" After a moment, Jean nodded.
Of course, the moment Harry turned his back on Jean, he started moving… but Harry would stick to his part of the plan, at least. Switching back to bird form, he flew overhead, trying to find a decent spot to land and flank them, before he had to swerve to avoid a streak of brilliant red light. They'd caught wind of his trick. Great.
Thankfully, Harry wasn't a one trick pony. He dove towards the one that was casting spells at him, transformed into a puma while falling, and crashed into the man at speed with all the weight of a puma. Harry crushed the man's wand- and his hand- between his jaws, trying his best to ignore the shriek of pain and the taste of blood.
A cutting charm of some side cut into his side, but Harry lunged at the other man, and quickly made casting much more difficult- a puma pressing onto your chest and tearing into your arm did tend to make casting a touch more difficult. The man raised a trembling hand towards Harry's head… a hand that began to glow…
Before a stunning spell made the man slump to the floor. Harry looked up to see Jean- with a shocked look on his face. Even if Harry was still disillusioned, he was pretty sure the bloodstains probably implied a form that definitely wasn't crowlike. Woops.
XXXXII. Interdiction
One key priority for a villain should be gaining the capacity of 'interdiction'- that is to say the ability to control what comes in and out of your domain. Seizing the government is typically a good step towards this- it gets you all the resources of any transport networks like the Floo, gives you records about who can (legally) Apparate, makes your raids legitimate acts of the government and not piracy, etc.
Of course, sometimes you need to go out there (or send your minions out there) to interdict someone in person, whether on land, sea, or in the air.
Of course, after that mess, there were people that needed to be contacted- the magical authorities, for example. Harry was almost worried that they were actual agents of the government, given the uniforms… but thankfully, that was not the case. The men were apprehended, and a few awkward questions were asked about the animalistic maulings, one that Harry could successfully dodge around, thanks to the language barrier.
Once that mess was handled, Harry and Jean decided to keep on sailing- perhaps towards Benin. Harry had heard something about massive walls there, and it sounded interesting. The fact that both of them were heading in that direction somehow became a friendly race, at least to round the Cape.
Admittedly, Harry was a touch worried it wouldn't be much of a race, considering that Harry was in possession of a frankly obscene engine… but he was quickly proven wrong by the wind spells Jean was packing. If Harry really wanted to win, he might have tried screwing with the weather around Jean… but that just seemed unsporting. Of course, if Jean started messing with him, Harry would mess right back, but as of yet both of them seemed content to leave it as a contest between ships. It was a little grating when Harry started to loose, but they were still close enough to see each other...
They were not the only ships on the sea, of course, but they could avoid anything else sailing around with ease. The average muggle ships were literally incapable of seeing them, which did make avoiding them a little trickier… so they kept a careful eye out for anything on the horizon.
"It's a ship, sir!" One if the ghosts on watch shouted.
"You think?" Harry replied- that seemed quite obvious, even if Harry couldn't make out much from this distance.
"Yessir!"
As the ship got closer, Harry could start picking out the details: the sails, the rigging, the snarling lion figurehead… It was a pretty nice looking ship, he supposed, but he was no expert.
"An East Indiaman…?" The ghost muttered.
Harry didn't recognize that- he presumed it was the type of ship- but it seemed quite obvious that it was magical in some way, disregarding some nutty reenactors or something. Well, Harry supposed that he and Jean didn't have much room to talk when it came to being weird history nuts, but still.
The ship went at a pretty decent pace, and Harry wondered if it had similar spells to whatever Jean used to boost his speed and get out of doldrums. Her sails were full of wind, and she tore across the waves, almost seeming to leap from the high crests of the waves.
"They're signalling, sir- they've got letters!" Immediately, Harry knew something was up. You certainly wouldn't need to pass letters off to some other boat if you had owls to deliver letters… So there must have been something wrong with the ship- and immediately, he sent a Patronus to the Belle Epoque to warn Jean, who was far too close for the mystery ship for comfort-
Cannon fire rang out, the mystery ship letting off an entire broadside before the Belle Epoque could even begin to respond in kind, sending cannonballs flying through her hull… Immediately, Harry got the ghosts moving, sending them to load the gun.
Still, a big gun wasn't the only weapon the ship had, at least against another wooden ship… it sure would be a shame if their two ships were to collide, wouldn't it? So they steamed towards the ship as it sailed towards them, not even faltering when one of its masts was blown clean off the deck…
The crew of the other ship seemed to catch onto what Harry was trying to do, and they desperately attempted to veer out of the way of what would certainly be a nasty collision. Unfortunately for them, Harry's ship was fairly maneuverable itself, and Harry was absolutely willing to use his magic to slow their winds, leaving them practically dead in the water before….
Harry felt the crash as the two ships collided, heard the sound of most of the other ship's hull being torn away, smelt a horrible cadaver-smell raising from the other ship… and then a mere moment later they had managed to disentangle themselves from (read: push straight through) the other ship, leaving it to limp through the sea, taking on water quite heavily.
As the ship floated away, already starting to sink into the chop, Harry noticed a flag flying from the ship's back: a tricolore, in orange, white, and blue. The Dutch? Harry blinked. Would that make the ship the Flying Dutchman?
Whatever the case, Harry didn't worry about it for too long before transforming into his crow form and flying over to the Belle Epoque. It didn't exactly look to be in the greatest shape after taking a broadside...
It seemed Jean Paul was alright- even if he sported a rather unpleasant gash across his chest. Harry could fix it with Parselmagic, so he generated a snake…
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Fixing you."
"With a snake?"
"Yesss." Harry purposely laid on the hiss a little thick before starting to chant in Parselmagic.
"How did you even get a wound like this?" Harry asked- how could a cannonball have possibly caused the narrow, bloody, and infected gash?
Jean Paul rolled his eyes. "Splinters, caused by the cannon. That was always the real mankiller back in the day… hey! Be careful with that thing!"
"Would you like to relive the Age of Sail by getting an infection, too?"
He grumbled, but didn't complain too much afterwards, and his healing was finished quick enough. The slightly larger concern was his ship- while it wasn't sinking beneath the waves or anything, it wasn't exactly in ship-shape.
Splinters were everywhere, and Harry wasn't entirely which were from the plain furnishings and which were complements of the brand new portholes the Flying Dutchman had installed. He probably could have looked around a bit more, but he wanted to respect Jean's privacy. You shouldn't mess with a man's boat...
"Do you need a tow?" But giving him some help should be fine.
After a moment, he sighed. "I'd appreciate it."
To whom it may concern,
We write this letter because we have recently encountered an as of yet undiscovered magical civilization beneath the Indian Ocean, one known as Kumari Kandam, and we hope to see them raised to the dignity of a seat in the International Confederation of Wizards. We have made some efforts to acquaint them to the modern wizarding world, but we are curious as to any official ICW rulings on the subject.
With gratitude,
Harry Potter, Prince of Doggerland, Order of Merlin 1st Class.
(Harry had dictated this letter to Margaret with an explicit instruction that it sound properly regal and whatnot. He thought it was perhaps a little too over the top with the frequent use of the royal we, but it would work…)
It would probably mean more paperwork, but Harry thought it was worth it. Not for some sort of realpolitik reason like getting a steadfast ally on the ICW- although he supposed that was a passing benefit- but more because he liked the people.
They were enjoyable to be around and had almost no preconceptions about him… Not to mention that they spoke his language, so to speak.
Writing a book about their culture when they were right there felt a little gauche, but he offered to print anything they wanted to share… even if the version of Parselscript they used was wildly different. It was almost like some sort of etymological joke: they could understand each other perfectly in their one shared language, but they had two entirely different written alphabets for it.
Harry Potter was, of course, attached to his country. He had lifted it from the sea, built a hone on it, and played a pretty massive role in peopling it, and would go to great lengths to protect it, as anyone would regarding their home.
But Harry wasn't the only person on the island, and in some cases his passion was exceeded. Not everyone, of course: some of them, like the veela or yuki-onna, had homes to go back to if they wanted to. However, on the other end of the scale, there were the werewolves. They didn't have many other places to go… werewolf and immigrant were not exactly a stellar combination for securing a high place in society, as you might imagine. Not to mention that several of them were in the process of settling down and even raising families on Doggerland, which gave them even more reason to be grateful.
This led to a resolve to protect what they had managed to acquire, to protect Doggerland. Admittedly, they hadn't exactly gotten explicit permission from Harry, but they figured they could handle any minor security concerns which weren't important enough for Harry to worry about. The vampires were on board for this sort of operation as well, with the understanding that it be kept subtle. Out of sight, out of mind.
The debate over what sort of name should be given to the group was settled by the vampires. They shouldn't give it a name, for fear of Harry getting wind of it- they were already running a risk as is, having some silly name like the "Dogger Guards" would only serve to evoke Harry's suspicions if he caught wind of it.
They weren't intending to subvert his authority… they just wanted to take a more proactive stance in protecting their home while not bothering Harry. Sure, they knew there were some rules that Harry would probably want them to follow, like no murder or anything crazy... but it was their island.
Perhaps they could start with any dregs of the previous Voldemort regime? They hadn't run into much trouble from them recently, but it wasn't too much of a stretch to think that a few folks were inclined to avenge their old master. Rooting out all of them sounded difficult, but depriving them of tools seemed like as good a start as any, and they would serve as… acceptable targets. Something to cut their teeth with, so to speak.
A few days later, the Prophet had some… interesting front page news.
KNOCKTURN ALLEY FIRE
The Ministry has recently been caught up in a large debate about what should be done with the shops of Knockturn Alley- at least before almost all of them were consumed in a major conflagration last night. Mercifully, the shops in Diagon Alley proper escaped largely unharmed.
The cause of the fire is unknown at the moment, but suspicions are of some sort of accident with Dark Artifacts- many of which were destroyed in the flames, with any surviving pieces being confiscated by Ministerial investigators.
Our sources within the Ministry imply that man of the properties will be confiscated from their owners, and reorganized to create something a little more in line with Wizarding Britain's goals.
Perhaps they'll give it a new name?
Around the same time, muggle papers ran reports of a series of odd, synchronized robberies of gas stations- not for money or even food… but gas. Some clever journalist gave it the nickname "Siphoning Saturday" and it stuck.
It was not hard to connect the dots, or at least be a little suspicious, if you had subscriptions to both muggle and magical papers along with more brain cells than the average head of cabbage. Mysteriously, the sorts of people who tended to connect those dots weren't complaining too much about those particular shops being burnt down...
That apathy was shared by the Ministry as well. There were several allegations of the investigations being 'half-assed', but unofficially it was widely considered a good riddance: a way to sweep out some of the rot without stepping on too many toes.
Mysteriously, a few Dark artifacts that couldn't burn were not recovered from the ashes, despite the fact that they should have been there…. Of course, none of the shop-owners were quite stupid enough to complain about that, considering that admitting to the knowing ownership of Dark artifacts intended for resale would absolutely increase your sentence.
As the time slowly crept towards Christmas, Dudley Dursley eventually worked up the courage to write Harry a letter, after discarding what felt like dozens of drafts. He had no idea what to say- "Hey, I'm glad you're alive"? Well, it was true, but at the same time Dudley had played a large part in making Harry's life miserable, and it felt like it would probably ring hollow.
Presuming that the wizarding war was won, and quite possibly had been won for a while (Dudley wouldn't blame Harry for thinking that reconnecting was low priority) so he couldn't even begin to predict what sort of state Harry was in. He was alive, but was he happy? It was unnerving to think that some of the wizard friends that Harry had might be mouldering somewhere…
Eventually, Dudley realized he was just going to think himself in circles. He could barely understand the wizarding world when he was talking to a wizard, much less when he was trying to guess how it had changed. At best, he could guess that Harry was alive and had decided to reconnect… and that was enough.
Harry,
I hope you're alright. I haven't really been keeping up with the magical world- obviously- but I'm assuming the owl that's hanging around me is yours. If not… then hopefully the magic'll work itself out somehow.
I'm sorry for the way I treated you. I can't imagine the owl is some sign of your forgiveness or whatever but I hope it's a chance.
I'd tell you about Mum and Dad, but I'm pretty sure you wouldn't care. Dad still despises 'your sort'. I hope your sort are doing alright. We haven't gotten much news- Mum and Dad like it that way, I think. They probably wouldn't like me writing this letter, even.
-Dudley
Margaret sorted through Harry's mail, putting it into piles: the hate mail Harry would enjoy reading (harridans moaning about him liking vampires), the hate mail he probably wouldn't (long diatribes of slurs including a number of choice words about his mother), the odd business/political proposal, and the occasional personal letter, typically from Gabrielle or Astoria. Did she particularly enjoy handing those letters over to Harry? Not really, but Harry would be distressed and upset if Margaret ruined his correspondence…
This did mean that she opened his mail, but he trusted her- it helped that Margaret was a bit more durable just in case someone tried to send poison or something. Thankfully, the poison in those letters was only found in the words and not anywhere else.
There was one name that she remembered well: Dudley Dursley. Harry was very interested in any potential letters from this person- an informed muggle- considering all the effort he went to getting an owl to hang around the man, and Margaret was a little curious too. She didn't know much about the good master's upbringing other than the fact that he was an orphan, so it was possible that the Dursley boy was a childhood friend, or maybe a cousin who was like a brother?
She opened the letter, began to read, and immediately felt concerned. The fact that he felt the need to apologize, the way he mentioned his parents, who apparently hated magic… it sent Margaret's stomach roiling.
So she decided to ask.
Harry sighed. "You might want to grab a drink or something- you can get drunk, right?"
"Thrice damned whorespawns, all of them!"
"Are you calling my grandmother a whore?" Harry asked, trying his best to hide his amusement.
Margarites sputtered. "That was never my intent, good master!"
Before she could begin to apologize too passionately Harry started laughing. "I know what you meant, and I appreciate it."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone