章 228: 9
XVII. Sovereignty
The end goal of a villain is always, in some form, sovereignty. The scale of that sovereignty is all that differs. Control of your own state is sovereignty, however meager or rich your followers may be. Sovereignty over the country, as the Will to which all others are subservient, or complete Sovereignty, so total that you are the only Sovereign, so that the whole of the world composes the body politic, are possible goals for an ambitious villain.
Minister Shacklebolt was, to put it mildly, tired. The job was excruciating, definitely not what he was trained for, and filled with a bunch of pointless politicking he didn't fully understand. He knew with almost complete certainty he would eventually be cycled out of office, replaced by someone who played the political game, but he knew that as long as he held power he was obligated to use it as best he could.
The subject of Harry Potter was coming up quite a lot recently. Shacklebolt personally thought it was all likely to be some tremendous misunderstanding, or at least extremely unfortunate framing on the Prophet's part. Well, it was either Shacklebolt believed that or he would have to grapple with the idea of the wizarding hero Harry Potter, the boy he knew fairly well, becoming a womanizing dandy. Shacklebolt thought the Ministry's anti magical creature laws were exceptionally stupid but he was obligated to enforce them, no matter how bitter a taste they left in his mouth.
It was also notable that he was one of the main figures in the Ministry who could reasonably talk to Potter at all. Sure, there was Arthur… but to be quite honest, no one really thought Arthur had the will required to cow Harry Potter, even without taking their almost familial relationship into account.
So Shacklebolt and his guards waited near Diagon Alley, anticipating Harry Potter and his date for the night. They hoped to catch them before they meandered off into Muggle London- they'd be lost for the night if they headed there.
His guards sprang into motion once one of their companions outside sent a signal. Shacklebolt was already ready, and more than a little anxious to see how Potter had changed recently. He took the creaky stairs that went down to the Alley.
Admittedly, Kingsley wasn't quite up to date with muggle fashions, but he thought that Harry and his companions looked fairly… chic? Was that the word?
It was hard not to notice the dragon hide they were wearing- the lady's gloves, Harry's gloves and his jacket- and he was once again reminded of just how competent Harry had grown to be, even if there was a potentially faked facade of rakishness painted over it.
"Mr. Potter!"
Harry smiled and greeted him. "Kingsley!" Shacklebolt was pretty sure some of his guards prickled at the casual way Harry spoke, but the boy definitely deserved a little informality in his life.
The vampire gulped and stepped behind Harry. Shit. Potter was protective of his vampires, spooking them would only serve to alienate him. Shacklebolt gestured for his guards to take a step back before taking Harry's hand for a shake, the dragon hide a little rough under his fingers.
Kingsley knew exactly what sort of tricks would appeal to Potter. Harry needed to think they were united, partners in battling ministerial madness. "I'm sorry to bother you like this Harry, but you know how the Ministry is…"
Harry laughed. "Fair enough. What is it this time?"
"I've heard rumors about an island?" Harry was probably rich enough to buy one by now…
"Yeah. I'd prefer not to give out the specifics, though, I don't want any unwanted visitors."
Was that his only goal? It would be… difficult, with the Prophet so interested in learning more about him, but in theory, it was possible. "I can understand that, but there is the matter of the Ministry's recent laws…"
"They're not worth the parchment they were written on."
"Yes, but I'm obligated to enforce them…"
"But I'm not obligated to obey them, am I?"
Uh oh. "Well, you are a citizen of Magical Britain…"
"Maybe I shouldn't be, if you insist on treating my godson like a second class citizen." Oh, there was no way in hell that Kingsley could win him over now. Potter had clamped onto his godson, and possibly the vampires, too tight to care about the Ministry. Understandable, if unfortunate.
"I know these laws look bad…"
"They look bad because they are bad." Harry's expression was stormy, and Kingsley could have sworn that the wind wasn't blowing this intensely a second ago.
"Harry…"
"Don't 'Harry' me, Shacklebolt. Sometimes, this entire damned Ministry barely seems like it was worth saving- hell, I'd be better off on my own!" The air around Harry seemed to throb with magic, and almost everyone instinctively took a step back.
Somewhere far away, a magical device whistled in a way quite similar to a kettle.
The International Confederation of Wizards was, suffice it to say, quite the odd body. Hundreds of years of bureaucratic idiosyncrasies had built it into what it was, with one major goal during that time: keep magic hidden. All else was optional.
Who exactly got included in the Confederation had and continues to be the subject of fierce debate, but generally they tried to respect who was de facto in charge of an area, unless there was a dark lord in the making. Having each government handle things in the area they controlled was just good sense, after all. This led to a number of situations that might have called for raised eyebrows among their muggle counterparts, and the politics of the ICW in no way mirrored their counterparts in the United Nations.
While a muggle country would have to struggle through the process of being recognized on the international stage, the ICW had magical tools that allowed them to sense when a new country made its way onto the world stage. It was a complex mix of different magical detectors and sensors, prone to false positives from time to time, but still quite useful in recognizing when someone new actually took control of an area.
Some of these sensors picked up the words exchanged by Harry and Shacklebolt. They parsed them, considered Harry's domain on the Dogger Banks, formed by and steeped in Harry's magic… and decided that Harry's declaration to the Minister's face sufficed as enough.
A series of magical pens got to work- defining the area of the newest wizarding state (Harry's island on the Dogger Banks and the waters immediately surrounding it) and its sovereign (Harry Potter). The name of such a state, was of course, unknown, and best left up to the decision of said sovereign. A letter was written saying as much, and informing the new state of its various duties and privileges that came with its membership in the most august body of the International Confederation of Wizards.
A copy of the paperwork made its way to the Supreme Mugwump, while another was magically tied to the leg of an owl, which set out on a flight to the Dogger Banks.
When Harry got back to the island, he was admittedly more than a little tired. Staying up late to watch a bunch of muggle movies in the theater did tend to do that to you. Before he could crash into bed, Margaret came up to him, a letter in her hand. "Sir, thou would wish to read this…"
Harry took one long look at the thick envelope and decided that it could wait a bit. At least a night, maybe several. "You can handle it."
"Sir…?"
"I trust you enough to handle it and I'm too tired to try. Just… tell me about it tomorrow."
Harry limped off to sleep and figured that Margaret could handle it. It wasn't like the castle was burning down or anything…
As Harry fell asleep, Margaret got to work on the paperwork- there was no reason to dilly dally, right?
Of course, Margaret's plan was to present her ideas to Harry so he could modify them as he pleased, but Harry… well, he had plans to meet with Ron and Hermione for lunch, and then after that one of the non-magical vampires wanted him to hook up a telephone line to the island…
Figuring that Margaret had handled it, he sent the mail without really checking.
Things were relatively normal for quite a while, at least until they saw a ship on the horizon- one that wasn't sailing around them, but rather right at them. Normally, his spellwork would have caused muggle shipping to veer ever so slight so they missed the island… this meant a magical visitor.
Alarm bells were already sounding in Harry's head before he saw that the figure standing on the boat was a goblin. Before Harry could decide on whether or not starting a storm would be enough to avoid the potential wrath of the goblin nation, the ship made its way up to the wharf.
The goblin clambered from the ship, looking more than a little seasick, and gave a nod to Harry. "Your Serene Highness."
What?
Harry realized that leaving the paperwork- or at the very least, that particular paperwork- to Margaret was regrettable, considering his recent (and completely unplanned) assumption of the title Prince of Doggerland. That was definitely a surprise, especially considering that he (or rather, his principality) now possessed a seat on the International Confederation of Wizards. Some part of him was almost tempted to just throw all the paperwork this would inevitably lead to at Margaret, honestly. He never wanted this- he just wanted to be left well alone.
The goblin, Redclaw, introduced himself as a representative of Gringotts (more alarm bells) as a financial advisor to the new state of Doggerland.
"That's awfully generous of them…"
"Oh, they wanted me as far out of their hair as possible." Redclaw chuckles. "They're hoping to bleed you dry, you know."
"How?"
"If you try to take money from your vaults in England- which they wanted me to advise you to do- they'd tie it up in so much red tape you'd barely get a Knut for every Sickle you tried to withdraw."
"So what do you recommend?"
Redclaw shrugged. "It's basically lost to you, but maybe if you're lucky your grandsons might be able to withdraw it."
"And if I'm not lucky?"
"They fabricate some excuse to seize your assets. I do hope you have something of your own saved up here…"
Harry chuckled. "I certainly do."
Redclaw nearly went into fits when he saw the amount of money and gemstones Harry had… liberated. He agreed to help set up some vaults to keep it alls tired away tidily- the goblin's knowledge of spells that worked particularly well in underground locations was definitely appreciated.
Harry was glad to have just about the best possible protections he could on his hole in the ground, at least. Other parts of the castle received the goblin ward treatment as well, just because Harry was growing into something of a paranoid maniac, now that they were on their own. What better way to live up to the legacy of Mad-Eye than cover the island (other than the dock, which stuck out enough to receive guests) in every ward he could practically apply?
This gave Harry even more of an impetus to achieve self sufficiency- and he knew that bar was going to get a lot higher when the dragon eggs hatched. He wasn't even sure if he could just go and dump them in the Hebrides anymore, as the Ministry seemed more than a little miffed at him. Sure, Kingsley seemed cool with him, but that was Kingsley.
So Harry took steps to make sure that if worse came to worse, they would have enough fish to sustain dragons. That was, of course, no small amount of fish- the magical hamper Harry had acquired would help the situation greatly, but it still meant they would need a lot of fish. With that in mind, Harry got to work, both carefully expanding the wards that kept the muggles out and using space expansion charms inside those wards. Thankfully, it did not appear that the fabric of space time would cave in on itself if too many space expansion charms were used in one place. The Mermen got a lot more room to maintain their great herds of fish, there was some more space for potential expansion, and with that done Harry pretty much stopped thinking about it. Definitely not the weirdest bit of magic floating around his island.
Around this point in time, muggle weather agencies began to take note of an odd phenomena around the Dogger Bank, where ships seemed to veer ever so slightly. They'd reach their destinations perfectly intact, but the men seemed more confused than anything when informed they didn't in fact take the fastest possible path between the ports they were travelling between. Some of them even reported sights of some sort of mirage out on the sea, the air and waves seeming to warp as if a heat wave had struck.
No one could really reach a satisfactory conclusion about the real cause of the Dogger Bank Weather Phenomena- or DBWP- in large part because the same navigational errors that affected normal ships also impacted the crafts that the researchers used. Attempts to forgo electronic navigation by the odd sailing enthusiast also met in failure. In time, it would gain a status similar to that of the Bermuda Triangle, but with a large and growing body of evidence.
With no real solutions in sight, the muggles just kind of dealt with it. There was some sort of weird ass weather/magnetic phenomena hovering over the Dogger Bank, therefore they needed to reroute shipping and flights to avoid it, but otherwise don't make a big deal about it. Of course, it would become the subject of conspiratorial mumbling on some small corners of the burgeoning Internet… but that was a story for a different time.
PRINCE POTTER?
[The picture shows an empty seat at the International Confederation of Wizards, tucked between the seats for the British and Dutch Ministries]
Recent rumors about Harry Potter coming into possession of an island have been proven true- in the most spectacular fashion! Sources within the International Confederation of Wizards have confirmed the appearance of a new seat- one held by Harry Potter, Prince of Doggerland- meaning that Harry Potter can no longer technically be called wizarding Britain's most eligible bachelor.
Some sources claim that Potter decided to part ways with the Ministry due to their recent laws regarding magical creatures and their offspring. Witnesses on the scene mention a godson of Potter's- another mystery in this tale, possibly living on Doggerland with Potter. Whether this makes his break with the Ministry justified is up to the reader- if it's not just a cover for Potter's noted tendency towards the undead and fanged.
For a recap of what Doggerland is, exactly, turn to page 8.
XVIII. Survivability
Unfortunately, there will be some people that object to you for any number of reasons: hatred of your politics, revenge, dislike of your magnanimous rule… A villain must either be capable of surviving attack, or must have exceedingly loyal companions who can do that job for him. Even then, the cruel whims of chance are another dreadful foe you will face- prepare for a breadth of potential threats. Better overprepared and paranoid looking than a corpse mired in broken dreams.
Getting through the Panama Canal was trickier than Harry had initially assumed it would be. There were fees that needed to be paid and the like, and suffice it to say that: A. Harry did not want to pay those fees and B. He wasn't sure if his ship was legal, by any muggle definition of the term. It was probably a ghost ship in a more literal sense than just being filled with specters; there were no records Harry could provide, no port of call or even a construction site he knew of… so Harry decided to just sneak through.
This did require waiting for a reasonably sized boat- as opposed to one of those obscene Panamax ships that were as large as the canal could physically allow- but eventually they managed to slip the ship in. Of course the ghosts were all marveling at the stunning fear of engineering that was the Panama Canal, the series of massive locks that let them cross the country's rugged terrain by lake- anything was better than attempting Cape Horn, at least in the opinion of Harry's crew.
Harry did hope to come back to the Caribbean and the eastern side of the Americas more generally, just to search for treasure… but he also wanted to see Asia. Hopefully, any treasures that had been buried for decades or hundreds or years would stay that way long enough for Harry to retrieve them.
After leaving the canal, they passed through Panama City and quickly headed over the Equator, making it the first time Harry had ever visited the Southern Hemisphere. From there, they sailed for Lima, the capital of Peru and a major coastal city. Harry had to pull off some of his usual shenanigans in order to keep the authorities from asking any questions on his boat- some research eventually revealed it was a Liberty Ship, which people had stopped producing some fifty years ago, meaning it would raise many questions- but it seems that even then he drew some attention of the governmental sort. Magical, thankfully.
Fortunately, it was late enough by this point that Harry could use one of his vampires as a translator- his focus was on French and a bit of Japanese at the moment, he did not have time for a third, much less a second Romance language- and while the Peruvians seemed a little perturbed by the translator and the dreadful green fire in Harry's eyes, they carried on.
"You are… the lord of Doggerland?"
Harry bit back a groan. He supposed that escaping his reputation would kind of be a fool's errand, even if he figured out disguise charms. His mode of transport, his companions, even his staff… all far too distinctive.
"Yes. I'm Harry Potter, lord of Doggerland. No titles necessary, I'm just here to visit."
"Welcome to Peru, Harry Potter- is there anything we can help you with?"
The Peruvian gentlemen were nice enough, Harry thought- they had told him how to get to the magical quarter of Lima, in addition to a very brief overview of the country's sights. They did warn him to be careful about climbing the mountains though- he just didn't have the lungs for it, apparently.
Of course, Harry was tempted by a number of books about interesting sounding Peruvian magic, and despite having no Feathered Serpent around to teach him the languages, he found a few interesting looking tomes in Quechua. After an… interesting dinner of guinea pig (the magicians raised those things huge, to the point where they were served by the slice and not whole) Harry made his way towards the mountains… there was some deep urge in his heart that compelled him to climb at least one Peruvian mountain, to find something interesting…
And it definitely was interesting, at least when Harry wasn't busy hyperventilating. Suffice it to say that he stumbled to the top of the mountain, breathing heavily and heart pounding rapidly in a desperate attempt to get air to his lungs, and quickly decided that maybe brooms would be a better option. Brooms at a much lower altitude than the tops of mountains.
Once he wasn't busy desperately fighting to breathe in enough air, Harry would admit that the mountains were very beautiful. Some part of him was a little regretful that he chose an ocean hideout and not a mountain hideout, but there were merits to both.
Some careful searching eventually led him to one of the more inland magical communities he was told about and unfortunately, it was near the summit of one of the higher mountains. Wonderful. He decided to just camp in a nearby valley instead of rushing in straight away- he needed sleep, and he admittedly wanted to delay his return to that awfully thin air.
Harry decided that walking into town with the Bubblehead Charm on would make him look like a major tool, even if it might have worked in the awfully thin air. Still, he used his broom, just so he spent as little time as possible as possible climbing up the mountain and working himself into a state of breathlessness.
Despite his efforts, by the time he had found his way to a store he was breathing quickly as he walked inside the store. It was a cozy little place, built of neatly fitted stones without a single dollop of mortar (the would-be architect in Harry took note of that) and filled with a number of different products. Harry's eyes were drawn to the vivid fabrics that were on display, at least before the shopkeeper gestured to him, a knowing grin on his face.
"Norteamericano?" Harry could understand that- or at least the gist of it- at least.
"No. English."
"Inglesa…" The man nodded, shuffling around behind his counter for a few moments before pulling out a deep red jar. He opened it, and a powerful, spicy scent wafted through the air; reaching inside, the man pulled out a… thing. It seemed to be wrapped in a napkin or something, but even then the smell was powerful.
Considering that it was being held out to him, Harry took it and unwrapped it, and it seemed to be some sort of offal, covered thickly in a spice that Harry didn't recognize. Harry gave the man a questioning look.
"Para la respiración." For breathing? Harry took a long look at the… was it a lung, maybe? The unknown organ, covered in enough spice to send him on the mother of all coughing fits… and gulped. Well, no time like the present, right?
Sure enough, it was incredibly spicy, so hot that it almost felt like fire going down his gullet- and he coughed viciously as it went down, hacking and wheezing, his eyes watering… it felt like the fire was slowly spreading, bringing an almost painful heat that dulled to a warm over the whole of his body. It was about then that he realized he was breathing a lot easier than before.
Once Harry stood up straight, he was quick to reach for some money, but the shopkeep just smiled and refused. Still, Harry bought several of the colorful bolts of cloth and a poncho before he went- that temporary relief was good enough on its own, but if it was permanent… Well, he was still breathing a little more quickly than normal, but it felt natural, it didn't feel like a fight to survive. That would definitely make his future exploration of the mountains easier. Harry made sure to lay on the silly tourist act a bit thick so he could overpay the man.
A lesser man (or a less lucky man) than Harry Potter wouldn't have found much of anything in the mountains, but Harry Potter was blessed with a Seeker's vision, enhanced eyes, and a knack for getting into trouble. While flying around some particularly isolated mountains outside of Cajamarca, Harry spotted a little divot in one of the mountains. Flying in closer, it appeared to be a tunnel of some sort.
Harry, feeling more than a little adventurous, activated his nightvision and made his way into the dark mouth of the tunnels, not entirely sure what he would find. It seemed very much like the stereotypical mine, walls rough and chipped away at, the rough held up by wooden beams that looked a little too aged for Harry's comfort… he made sure to cast a few spells on them to make them stronger as he passed through. He had no plans on getting buried today, thank you very much.
The tunnels went deep into the mountain, and while Harry was no expert he was fairly certain that he could recognize veins of precious metal when he saw them. Why no one had mined them despite them being clearly exposed… Harry wasn't entirely sure about that, but stayed cautious. People mining gold? That was predictable. Why wouldn't they, if the miner was even human?
After delving deep into the tunnels, Harry gained the distinct impression that he was being watched by someone (or something?) creeping behind him. Snapping around, Harry turned to face it, to see nothing- at least, until he looked down.
Whatever the creature was, it was vaguely humanoid, but so small that it didn't stand that much taller than Harry's knee. Despite its childlike stature, it was muscular and had a thick beard- but Harry was kind of drawn to the eyes, which were sort of metallic and reflected the firelike glow of Harry's own. It almost looked a bit like a child dressing up as a miner, but Harry knew there was no way that a costumed child had wandered all the way down here. It was magical. Actually, the horns probably proved that...
They stared at each other for a few quiet moments, Harry keeping a careful eye on the creature and those horns, which looked concerningly sharp. It eventually broke the silence, speaking in a deep, hoarse voice- Harry couldn't understand a word of it though, not even when trying to compare it to his knowledge of French. Quechua?
After a few moments, the almost expectant look on the creature's face turned into one of fury. Harry was expecting it to charge at him, and he probably would have preferred that to the menacing rumble that echoed through the tunnel.
Quickly looking around, Harry spotted a tunnel that branched off to the side some distance away- and he could see faint glimmers of daylight from that direction. Harry made sure to give the little bugger the boot as he ran towards what he certainly hoped was the exit. Little bits of stone and dust fell from the roof of the tunnels, getting in his hair and stinging his eyes, but he dared not stop until he stumbled out into the sunlight.
Thankfully, there was some good news from that brief mining misadventure: he had travelled further than he thought underground. A lot further than he thought, a lot further than should have been possible, even. After all, there were somewhere around six hundred miles of distance between Cajamarca and Cusco, but Harry managed to cover that distance in less than a day, without using a broom. There was definitely something up with those tunnels, and the odd little creatures that managed them.
The entrance didn't actually collapse behind him, but Harry didn't really feel like testing his luck a second time, even if he knew a significant fortune's worth of gold and silver was stuck in those walls. He'd wait until he could actually communicate with the little bastards- if he ever could- before trying that again. Anyways, he had much bigger fish to fry, considering that he was now in Cusco. Harry figured that his best shot at finding cool magic would be at Cusco.
Sure, Cajamarca was important historically- it was where the last Sapa Inca had met an inglorious end at the hands of the Spanish- but that wasn't much compared to the capital of the empire. Harry was intrigued to learn that the Inca Empire was called Tawantinsuyu in its day… an unfortunate reminder that he probably couldn't read much of anything… but it was worth a try!
Now all he had to do was find the part of Cusco that was actually magical...
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