章 243: 24
XLVII. Apprentice
Sometimes, the average mook will not do. You need a subordinate to delegate to, a possible successor, or even just someone who's exceptionally skilled with wet work or fighting. How do you accomplish this? Take a sufficiently -impressionable- loyal subordinate with potential under your wing! Take several, if you think you've got the time.
Margaret was sorting through letters, when she came across something of an odd one. The notable thing was the fact that it was in type and not normal handwriting. Sure, she was now vaguely familiar with the concept of a typewriter, so she could explain it, but why someone would feel the need- well, that could be any number of reasons.
The letter, as it turned out, was an inquiry into… an education or apprenticeship of some kind, under Harry? Interesting. Well, it took a bit to get to that point first, rambling on about how the writer (a Mr. Creevey) heard all about Harry through his sons, etc. etc. It was, frankly, a bit of a rambling mess, but something about it intrigued her. She supposed she'd have to ask if Harry knew this Dennis Creevey, and if he was willing to actually teach him.
So she took the letter and several other ones she deemed interesting- including one from that Dursley man, who she was going to throttle if she had anything to say about it- and carried them over to Harry, who was, as usual, in Atlantis.
Margaret wasn't too fired up about the whole thing, but it did wonders for Mary's confidence, which was something on its own. It was only natural to be proud of a discovery like that- Margaret was more relieved than she'd probably admit that Mary was out and about, doing exploration with Potter.
She supposed that if she hadn't gotten so used to it, the idea of slipping through a doorway and ending up several kilometers beneath the sea would have been remarkable, but now… business as usual, as much as magic could be usual.
Their base of operations was, at the moment, a larger sort of townhouse near the plaza they had first landed in. It had required significant repairs in order to be habitable, of course: mending walls, replacing windows, using magic to drain the courtyard in what was approximately the house's center (the wavy, curvy design of the roads extended to the buildings). The courtyard was nice enough, she supposed, filled with sweet-smelling flowers and warm air, but the pitch black sea hovering overhead made it a touch unnerving.
Still, it provided a sense of openness that was otherwise quite rare in Atlantis, so it became a favorite spot to, in theory, relax. In practice, it was filled with half-finished maps and scribbled notes about the underwater city.
Weaving between piles of pens and loose paper, she found Harry and Mary both poring over a map- or what might eventually become a map- it was certainly large enough, although mostly blank.
"Show me one more time." Mary said, staring at the paper with a surprising intensity.
"Alright. I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." With a tap of his wand, the map was suddenly filled with ink, showing the corridors of a castle she had some trouble recognizing. Hogwarts, she thought?
Mary nodded, looking at the map with interest, before… asking it a question? "Are you certain you can't tell us anything?'
Before Margaret could start worrying about how much time Mary spent in the library, considering how she apparently felt the need to talk to maps, ink flowed in a blank portion of the paper, turning into a short message: Sorry, but no dice. This map is the hard work of Messrs Moony, Prongs, Padfoot, and Wormtail- you'll have to study it the hard way, even if you are the lady friend of the fawn over there.
"The fawn?" Margaret asked quietly, making Harry jump a little before he turned to greet her.
Harry chuckled. "Oh, that's me. I tried to get some information out of them, because I'm Prong's kid- or the kid of the guy the 'Prongs' in the map was based on, I guess- but no luck."
"Thy father?" Margaret prompted. She knew that he was raised by some truly deplorable relatives, of course, but she would admit to not knowing as much about his actual family. Admittedly, Harry didn't know much either… well, as much as a child should have known about their parents.
"Yeah. He made this map back in school."
"Back when he was… up to no good?" Margaret asked, curious about the activation phrase.
"He was a prankster." Harry shrugged. "It's not like it's actually a requirement- I've certainly used the map for good before."
"Regardless, I come bearing intriguing mail, good master- a request."
"Who's it from?" Harry asked, pulling back from the map of Hogwarts as Mary launched into a litany of analytical spells.
"A Mr. Creevey? Father of Dennis?"
"Dennis?" Harry asked, his eyes widening ever so slightly before he reached out and took it. He read through it for a few moments. "I'll go talk to him about it. Get ready for some guests, I guess."
Oh, she supposed this would tangle up his schedule a bit, not to mention that the young Miss Astoria Greengrass would be 'visiting' as well- if that didn't turn into a long term stay.
Harry had decided, rather quickly, that the art of cartography was not his calling. Even with magic on his side- saving him from having to draw it by hand or somehow make a camera work several thousand feet below sea level- it was not a particularly enjoyable process. He felt a bit more respect for the Marauders, having figured out how to map Hogwarts, presumably by themselves.
Admittedly, Harry was attempting a much bigger project than just Hogwarts, although without any moving stairwells (yet). If he wasn't completely incapable of ever putting his eyes on an unfinished map again, then he figured he could try something similar to the Marauder's Map with Doggerland.
It would be good to keep an eye on things, Harry thought. He didn't want any freaky surveillance state stuff, of course, but if all sorts of wards weren't enough the map would definitely help.
Anyways, there was the matter of Atlantis. Swimming deeper into the city revealed more housing, which was generally unsurprising, along with things that he assumed were probably markets of some sort: broad, open plazas, buildings that seemed like storehouses… no market stalls, or anything of that sort, but he presumed that had rotted away ages ago. Some of them had mosaics of what might have been products still stretched over the walls.
He swam past what he guessed was some sort of production center, ruined forges and furnaces that would never be stoked again… but oddly, he didn't find any of the big things he was expecting: palaces, temples, magical complexes, or any mix of the three. Harry couldn't believe a city this massive, this complex, didn't have any form of aristocracy or any entrenched magical institutions. It was just a matter of finding them while his view was so limited by the inky dark; there could have been some tremendous temple complex that loomed above the city, he was just incapable of seeing it, if it was there.
As he continued to travel towards the center of the city, the damage seemed to get worse, more than even the most vicious rigors of time could reasonably explain. Paving stones cracked and in positions they definitely shouldn't be, houses partially crumpled… Harry found something about it unnerving, that damage near the center of the city was worse than the periphery… perhaps the myths about the Atlanteans dooming themselves were onto something.
Considering the darkness that surrounded him, it was rather hard to see things that should have been obvious- it took him a few moments to realize that the road had simply disappeared under him, surrounding him on all sides in darkness. Swimming back, he found the road again, and began to trace the perimeter of the crevasse.
Across a massive stretch of the city, a seam stretched- or perhaps tear would have been a better word, the edges jagged and wild. He imagined a significant number of buildings were swallowed whole by the tear, but there were also buildings that were half ruined, their sides open and rooms exposed.
Well, this certainly gave him something a little more concrete than falling due to hubris, or whatever. It could still be hubris, actually, but it was hubris that led to whatever caused this cataclysmic gash.
Well, whatever it was, Harry didn't want it happening to him- and he would admit it seemed like an intriguing mystery. Admittedly, he had a pretty bad track record when it came to dangerous mysteries…
Eventually, the time for their meeting arrived, and Harry got his first look at the man. Mr. Creevey seemed haggard, which was completely understandable, Harry thought- he couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose Teddy, but the man had suffered through losing Collin.
The man was quietly waiting in an otherwise empty public park, feeding some birds. Trying not to scare the birds, Harry walked over and sat down. "Are you Mr. Creevey?"
"Yeah. That makes you Harry Potter?" He gave Harry a brief once over, before extending his hand for a shake- Harry couldn't be entirely sure if the man knew his hands were trembling.
After an uncomfortable gap of silence, Mr. Creevey spoke again. "Do you know what the magical world is like? Prospects wise?"
"I'm… not entirely sure. I've got some friends in the ministry, if you'd like to ask them?"
"The ministry?" Mr. Creevey scoffed. "Pardon me if I have some reservations about sending my son off to work for them."
"Fair enough. I suppose that's why you came to me in the first place."
"Do you think you could do something for him? Anything?" Mr. Creevey asked, his voice bordering on pleading. "It's just… I want the best for him, I want to help him, I just… don't know how.'
Harry could definitely relate to that, even if it was in regards to his godson instead of a flesh and blood child. "Well, I can take Dennis under my wing, if you'd like." Harry said. "If you'd like, you could come along as well?"
Mr. Creevey seemed slightly happier at that, but he still seemed pretty down, for fairly obvious reasons. Some miniscule part of Harry almost wanted to give Mr. Creevey the Resurrection Stone, but the rest of him immediately shut that idea down. Harry was no psychologist, but he could tell that would be less than ideal for the man's mental health.
Dennis had heard rumors about Doggerland, of course. He followed the papers about it, but he didn't really expect much- kind of like muggle obsession with celebrities and stuff. You didn't read about that sort of thing and expect to visit… but somehow, his dad managed to convince Harry to invite them both.
It was almost like going on vacation, or something, down to finding a particularly isolated spot on the beach. Of course, they were here to get picked up, not to spend a few days basking in the sun.
Any plans for basking would have been foiled by the great banks of fog which rolled in from the sea- oh boy, that had to be Harry!
He was looking towards the horizon- or what passed for it, in fog this thick- expecting… well, he wasn't entirely sure. Maybe he should have been looking up, for a broom or something?
Then he noticed the wake in the water's surface, one that steadily grew and grew until a ship rose from the sea, water trailing off the metallic sides. His father quietly muttered something that sounded like "My God…" as the ship slowly approached the coast. Eventually, it stopped some distance from the coast- although Harry could probably unground the ship, given what Dennis had heard recently- and a figure emerged from the deck, riding a… magic carpet?
"Uh, Harry, aren't those illegal?"
"Are you going to turn me in?" Harry asked, before helping the two onboard (on carpet?).
"No."
The trip over to the ship was quick enough, and from above Dennis could see naval guns on Harry's ship. Were they functional? It didn't sound impossible, since they weren't electronic…
"Where'd you get this?"
"Savannah." Harry answered nonchalantly as they stepped off the carpet and onto the slightly wet deck. As they travelled into the depths of the ship, Dennis nearly fell down a stairwell when a ghost popped out in front of him, giving Harry a ghostly tip of the cap before travelling through another wall.
"I told them to stop doing that," Harry sighed, "but you know how some ghosts are, right?"
"Ghosts?" His dad was getting a funny look on his face. Uh oh. He did not want to be the one to give that particular talk.
"Yeah." Harry said, taking Mr. Creevey to the side. "There's a funny thing about magical ghosts…"
The island wasn't quite as big as he had initially imagined, just in terms of area, but it seemed quite evident that Harry was building upwards. He wasn't quite sure if it was taller than every building in Britain, but it easily put every other piece of magical architecture- with the possible exception of the towers at Hogwarts- he had ever seen to shame.
Dennis was analyzing the bizarre mix of styles in the tower while his father was… quiet. The thing about ghosts- that they had to choose to stick around- was a kick to the gut when Dennis first learned about it.
Getting off the boat wasn't too much fuss, even if his eyes were drawn to the other ships moored there. How exactly Harry had gotten his hands on a carrier- with… was that a seaplane crane?- Dennis couldn't fathom, but it was certainly there, the faint silhouettes of ghosts flitting around the deck.
A little ways into the castle, in what seemed like a parlor or sitting room of some kind, a woman waited. She smiled at them, displaying vampiric teeth.
"This is Margaret, and she's going to be giving you the tour. I've got a… project I'm working on."
"A… project?" Dennis asked. "What sort of project?"
"I'll show you later- I don't think you'll believe it unless you see it." Harry grinned widely. "But first, you should probably get settled in."
Harry wandered off somewhere, and they were quickly swept towards their rooms. The vampiress, Margaret, led them through a surprisingly short series of passageways before depositing the two at the door of their room, heading away before they could even pry it open. The furniture was nice enough, he supposed- all nice and cushy- but a few things stuck out to him: there was a fireplace, despite Dennis not seeing a single chimney on the premises- magic, probably- and the window.
It was open- perhaps explaining why Margaret felt the need to leave- letting the crisp salt air in. That wouldn't have been a problem, of course, but there was the matter of their height; a brief look out of the window showed that they were much higher up than Dennis had expected. He didn't remember taking many stairwells at all, much less enough to get… what seemed like several dozen floors up.
And here he thought that Harry's castle would be a lot less confusing than Hogwarts, but apparently space in the castle didn't work quite the way he had expected. He'd have to take a look around later- although he wasn't entirely sure that his dad was feeling up to it. It was a lot to take in for Dennis, much less for someone whose typical portion of adventure consisted of yapping dogs on the milk route.
Draco Malfoy found the idea of pleading for a job as something far beneath his dignity, but at the end of the day dignity wouldn't fill his stomach or his vault… so he folded. At the very least, he figured he'd go for something respectable first. So…
"I was hoping you could speak to your father about employment in his company?" Draco went to Greengrass. Daphne, of course, as he wasn't sure where Astoria had wandered off to…
Thankfully for what little pride Draco had left, Daphne didn't rub it in too much; he imagined that she could have dropped all sorts of barbs if she felt like it- he couldn't really be choosy at the moment- but she hadn't. In fact, she seemed almost chipper. Not quite as bubbly as Astoria could manage to be, but optimistic about something.
After a bit more discussion, Draco finally worked up the courage to ask the question that hung in his mind like a cloud. "How's your sister?"
"Astoria's alright- she's with Harry Potter. At Doggerland, you know?"
What? Draco took a few seconds to process that particular piece of information, the silence becoming uncomfortable. "Whatever for?"
"Oh, I couldn't fathom what they'd possibly be doing on that island, all by their lonesome…" Daphne's voice trailed off, the implication in her voice blindingly obvious.
"And you're fine with that?" Draco asked, feeling more than a little surprised that Greengrass was apparently fine with Potter… ah, coming to intimately know her sister. He could feel his fingernails digging into his palms and realized he probably wasn't keeping up that practiced display of pureblood calm he wanted to.
"If it's what Astoria wants… well, it's what she wants." She sighed. "What would my father do? Stop the man who got rid of Astoria's curse from courting her?"
"He stopped the curse?" Draco couldn't help but feel a bit of relief, even if it mixed with jealousy that roiled in his gut. "How?"
"The curse was in the blood- so he replaced the blood with his own."
Sharing blood? Draco couldn't help but shudder a little. There was something deeply unnerving about the idea of someone else's blood flowing through your veins, of something so vital to the person being shared around…. Eugh. The idea of Potter's blood flowing through Astoria's veins, a testament to the unexpected link between them… it didn't impact Draco's opinion at all. Definitely not.
When Astoria saw Doggerland next, she was struck by how the tower had grown in her absence. Some part of her wondered if Harry had any concrete end point in mind, or if it would just keep going up, keep getting compounded upon…
She supposed it was fair, considering the lack of horizontal space the country was currently suffering from, although the idea of walking up that many stairwells did not sound particularly appealing. Maybe Harry had found some magical solution to get around the verticality problem, or maybe he used whatever the muggles did in their superstructures… an unconventional tower for an unconventional wizard, she supposed.
Looking up at the castle, she couldn't help but feel a little like she did all those years ago, seeing Hogwarts for the first time. Sure, this wasn't her visit to Doggerland, but something about potentially staying here long term made it feel different. Compared to Hogwarts, it was a different beast entirely, but it certainly wasn't bad. She could see Harry waving her inside.
Feeling a bit bold- and remembering some encouragement from Daphne, who was shockingly gung-ho about the whole thing- she embraced him. "Hullo, Harry!"
"Hey, Tori."
As they walked inside the tower, she couldn't help but notice something. "Is it just me, or is this place busier than last time?"
"Oh, it is busier." Harry chuckled. "Still can't believe that so many people wanted to come here…"
"You're underestimating yourself, Harry. You've got a pretty nice place."
"Suppose so…" They did eventually get to a slightly more private feeling portion of the tower, the number of people milling around fell considerably. Heck, the only other person she could see was one of the vampires, who smiled at Harry and gave a wave.
Seeming jealous may have been seen by some as a bad look, but Astoria didn't particularly care- it's not like the vampires were above that particular tactic- so she tried to slide a little closer to Harry. Keyword being tried, as Harry extricated himself, telling Astoria that she would probably want to drop off her things before getting to Atlantis. Which was, unfortunately, sort of true.
Harry wandered off to do princely business, she guessed, leaving Astoria with the vampire; although thankfully, it didn't seem to be the head of this particular… posse? Coven? Clique? Colony? This colony, she supposed (if you used the term for bats?), of maid-vampires.
She would admit that the whole maid thing was still weird, especially considering that Harry did have a house elf…. Well, he only had the one, she supposed, and it was a very large castle. There were probably other ways you could get the job done (like acquiring a second elf) but the vampires were bound to be a little nutty if they were as old as they implied, so maybe that was why?
The maid smiled at her. "Would you like me to show you to your room… or should I just take the liberty of putting your things in the good master's room?"
Awfully forward, wasn't she?
Margaret would admit that the arrival of Miss Greengrass soured her mood, but she wasn't petty enough to attempt to drive the girl out or anything of that sort.
She seemed to make Harry happy, which was something all on its own. She couldn't begrudge him that, attempt to deny his pleasure for the sake of her own feelings, as much as it pricked at her. He needed to make the most of his time, after all; admittedly, wizards were a long lived sort, and the alchemy project was well ahead of schedule, but her vampirism had given her a slightly different view on things like time, and how much of it others had.
She could be patient. Incredibly so. She had waited in that damnable castle for centuries, she could certainly let the opening steps of Harry and Astoria's relationship play out. Maybe it would work out, maybe it wouldn't, but she had the time to let it play out to the eventual end result.
Whatever the case, Margaret wished to guarantee that she would serve Doggerland and a Potter- although she was rather fond of this one- for a very long time. Perhaps she was a touch more enamored with the idea of royalty and dynasty than Harry was, but she thought part of it was an understanding of basic political realities. Doggerland was a principality, ruled by a prince. The prince was mortal, and cannot fulfill his functions while dead. QED the country needed an heir.
Yes, there was Teddy, who Harry could certainly appoint as heir, but Margaret thought that Harry siring a few more wouldn't hurt. He probably wouldn't want to force his children into rulership if they didn't want to rule, but eventually, if he had enough, one would want to take up the reins and reign. Hopefully.
However, that was a more long term concern- one she would have to do some planning around, of course, but long term planning- and in the short term, she figured she would have to ingratiate herself to Miss Greengrass. If she was to one day become the Princess of Doggerland… well, it would be best if they didn't hate each other, at least.
"I've always found that a staff is a bigger tool for bigger jobs. Less subtle." Harry shrugged. "Sometimes, you need a sledgehammer." With that, Harry tossed a staff in Dennis' direction.
"Wait, you're just giving me this?" Dennis stuttered as he held the staff in his hands. From what he had seen, these things were horrifically expensive…
"Yeah." Harry smiled. "Just promise me that you're going to win if the dueling club is still around, alright?"
"I can try." Dennis said. "Are you gonna help me practice?"
"Of course!" Harry grinned. "But if you wouldn't mind, I've got a few other folks who wouldn't mind a good duel."
"Like who?"
"Margaret, if you don't mind?"
Dennis gulped. "Suppose not?"
The vampire gave a wan smile. "A duel, then. Prithee, Mister Creevey, you will have to forgive any inexperience brought about by my… ah, previous occupation." She took up an odd stance that almost reminded him of a fencer.
"Previous occupation?" He asked, starting to feel more concerned than he already was at the prospect of dueling a vampire.
"Maidservant." She answered, and for a single moment Dennis thought that it wouldn't be too bad, how bad could it reasonably be-
A whip of flame, blue as the summer sky, sprung forth, causing Dennis to desperately leap back as the… gentle warmth surrounded him? As Dennis realized that it was just harmless blue-bell flames, she carried on the attack, whipping around her wand in some complex whorling pattern that sent buffeting gusts of wind in his direction.
Sent stumbling by the gales, he could barely manage to cast a shield charm before a red spell hit it like a freight train. Dennis let the shield go down- and another spell immediately followed on the first's tail, slamming into him and tearing his staff out of his hand.
"Would thou like to try again?" Margaret asked with a smile that was all too innocent. Dennis groaned and went to pick up the staff.
Dennis let his hand trail behind him, his fingers touching mosaics that must have stayed under the sea for thousands of years. "I can't believe it…" Especially considering the fact that he could see inky darkness outside of the window they walked by.
"Isn't it great?" Astoria laughed. "I was there when we first found it, you know?"
"You were?"
"Yeah," she nodded before turning to Harry. "Please tell me you haven't explored the whole place already."
"Nowhere near it." Harry chuckled. "There's all sorts of stuff that we can look at."
With that, they went out to look at said stuff- and fortunately, Dennis didn't have to change. Magic made waterproofing their clothes significantly easier… letting them walk the streets of Atlantis in a way that might have been similar to how the original builders might have done it. Well, sort of. Presumably, the Atlanteans didn't swim just above the surface of their streets.
It was rather difficult to talk while underwater, considering the fact that they were attempting to speak through Bubblehead charms and the abyssal depths. Dennis was a little too caught up in looking at the city to feel like talking.
Eventually, he got to see a possible cause of Atlantis' current… extreme humidity. A great chasm cut through the city- and it took a good few moments for Dennis to realize that Harry had started swimming down.
Technically speaking, it wasn't like the crevasse was that much darker than the abyssal depths above it, but that didn't mean it didn't have a psychological impact. Crossing this final precipice, plunging into this greater depth… It was impossible to see the walls on either side of him, but Harry knew, logically, that they were there, unless Atlantean magic was a lot funkier than he thought.
Still, he couldn't see that they were there until he nicked his arm on a protruding stone, a meager flow of blood in the water. Looking towards the source of said cut, Harry saw, unsurprisingly, stone- the curious thing was the color, a brilliant ruby shade, surprisingly smooth in some places- although the tough part that cut him was a notable exceptio- and with an almost glassy look to it. As far as Harry could tell, it was big- far too big for him to see all of with the amount of light he had now.
So, logically, Harry cast the most powerful Lumos he could manage, one that was near blinding in the periphery of his vision, but it did let him see. And what a sight it was! The wandlight caught in the crystal-looking things that stretched in every direction, in almost every shade he could imagine: vivid greens and pale aquamarines contrasted by brilliant crimson and fiery oranges.
The crevasse thinned as he swam further down, the sides still lined by by those glassy looking crystals… but at the same time, there was something about the place, some thrumming energy, that made Harry feel alive.
Harry wasn't entirely sure if the idea of the ley line was a muggle fabrication or not… but he could certainly recognize a place humming with magical power- power that had turned pitch black obsidian translucent, like stained glass.
Neat.
Omake:
I've had this idea bouncing around my head for a long while, and figured I'd put it here as apologies for the wait. Now presenting: McGonagall's Nightmare
McGonagall was used to checking on the spell work that sent invitations out to Hogwarts students before she was Headmistress, and that didn't change once she took the position.
There was an obvious practical use for the list for more reasons than just making sure that teachers got in touch with Muggleborns. As Headmistress, she needed to know how many young wizards and witches would be under her protection, how many teachers she would need to hire, and the like. Hiring Mrs. Greengrass and Mr. Longbottom had proved a threat help in keeping schedules running smoothly…
But even she wasn't entirely sure how exactly the magic worked, how it picked out young people with magical talent and found their locations…. This question became a lot more interesting after Teddy Lupin appeared in the ledger. Andromeda had politely informed Minerva that Teddy was being homeschooled, but the magic of Hogwarts noticed him anyways.
She wasn't sure how- whether the book instantly detected the birth of a young wizard on British soil, or if it somehow kept track of every underaged wizard in a certain radius… but whatever the case, it did work, addressing the letter to 15th Room, Eighteenth Floor, Dogger Castle, Principality of Doggerland.
As she flipped towards the most recent page, the one holding students that wouldn't come to Hogwarts for a full decade, she wasn't expecting much. Sure, there was a baby boom after Harry defeated Voldemort (both times) but otherwise, wizarding society could be very slow to change. So when she saw about two dozen more names than she expected, she nearly fell off of her chair. Seeing which last name made up the vast majority of the new wizards actually did make her fall.
Ábram Potter
Anne Potter
Charles Potter
Dorotea Potter-Greengrass
Denise Potter
Jacqueline Potter
James Potter II
McGonagall was rushing off to Madam Pomfrey to get a potion for the greatest headache she had ever experienced before she even got to the Weasley children that would descend upon the school in due time.
She certainly hoped Harry would homeschool, or she might have to quit. McGonagall wasn't insane.
(Despite… suspicions, no culprits for the Great Doggerland Contraceptive Failure Incident were ever found.)
(It was Margaret.)
週次パワーステータス
-- 推薦
ランキング 
-- 推薦
チケット