Disclaimer: You recognize it, I don't own it.
Harry Potter wondered if Dumbledore knew that a flesh-eating curse hitting a mind-protection amulet while you were experimenting on a portal would make you hallucinate a tropical island. He always maintained the old man needed a vacation. Of course the skirt-wearing, spear-wielding men would have been a deterrent to this particular vacation spot, so he understood if the old headmaster never mashed spells together for fun. More fool he.
He bounced to his feet, grinned, raised his hand, then busted out the v for victory sign like it was going out of style.
Which it had. With the dinosaurs.
He would have done the Spock like the closet nerd he thought he hid but everybody knew he was anyway but he was saving it for a more appropriate occasion. The native people immediately stepped back and readied their spears. He burst out laughing, and his eyes twinkled like mad.
"I knew today was gonna be my lucky day! I prayed for it every day for six months, goldarnit! Then my horoscope said I would be lucky in love, my tea leaves read good fortune, I found a freaking four-leaf clover, and I got a free vacation out of it! HahahahaHAHA!"
"It's really amazing how free you are at editing your life whenever you open your mouth," came a sour, grumpy, voice at his feet. There was one thing that Harry took from that statement and it was not the words.
Yes, people should grovel at his feet! He was the #$! ing Saviour after all. He should get some groveling out of it. He smiled the Superior Smirk he used to annoy the more savvy politicians of the wizarding world and prepared to bow his head to answer the supplicant. They should know that every word that comes out of his mouth was Merlin's own truth. He got as far as opening his mouth when his eyes met a familiar brown glare.
He closed his mouth and lifted an elegant hand to his pale brow in order to convey his exasperated dissatisfaction at not having minions after all. What the hell did he have to do? Conquer a small nation?
"Oh," he said dismissively. "It's only you. You're lucky I took you with me on vacation."
"Lucky?" Hermione hissed.
She really should stop doing that; they just got through with a hissing dark lord after all. Won't do to have people hissing willy-nilly in the streets, now would it. The nice normal sheep-people would panic.
On the other hand, welcome to the Club, Hermione! Harry was so proud, he beamed at her. She ignored it.
"Lucky!" she shrieked. Harry sighed. She had spent too much time around Molly Weasley, really. He should break her of that shrieking habit during this vacation. He knew she was planning to marry Ron at one time, but turning into his mother was a whole other can of beans. Good thing that Petunia woman had him nearly immunized to hysterical middle-aged women throwing shrill tantrums.
Hermione dropped back onto the incongruously cheerful beach they were on.
"Might I remind you that you knocked on my door at freaking seven in the morning with 'Herms, got any hemlock?' and saying you wish you had died with your parents cause Ginny just engaged herself to you and you'd rather suck rotting zombie dick before you walk that creepy-arse stalker down the aisle? Don't tell me about tea leaves, you think I don't freaking know-all Sibyl 'You're-Gonna-Freaking-Die-If-I-Have-Any-Say-In-It' Trelawney teaches is 'if you don't get the future you want, try and try again'? Classes, my grandmother's wrinkly foot! And your so-called four-leaf clover probably had freaking Spellotape all over it, Potter!
"The freaking cherry on top of this shit-freaked day is Bellatrix 'I-Traumatize-Ministers-With-My-Voice' Lestrange and Antonin 'Mr. F*cker' Dolohov just happened to stroll gaily down the street and pop into the Department of Mysteries again to for all I know, tango naked behind their pansy-arsed spouses' backs! The same department you 'coincidentally' dragged me to! 'Oh look, Hermione, I can freaking open a portal to hell.' We nearly freaking died, you imbecile, you blockhead, you freaking jackass!" Harry was staring at her, eyes wide. "What, you twit!"
"I'm impressed I managed to understand all that when you were screaming face down into wet sand."
Hermione Granger wondered if it were possible to extend the efficacy of a time-turner to go back eight years and strangle Harry Potter when he was just a clueless eleven-year old.
Before the library stored in her brain began to search for the necessary knowledge to answer however, a single decisive hit to the back of her head with a blunt object curtailed all further thought. Violence, while not always the best answer, was still an answer after all. Especially when the last thing you hear is the body of your moronic best friend hitting the fishy-smelling sand beside you with a very satisfying splat.
HPPU HPPU HPPU
Daichi Minamo was a fisherman, as were most of the people he associated with. He was a practical young man, and didn't understand why people fawned over nobility like a good many of the people from the mainland. So it really was not a surprise when he burst without ceremony into a Council Hall filled with the pitifully sparse remnants of the Land of Whirlpool's ruling elite. There were, in fact, only fourteen people there who were actually of the council. The others present were simple toadies, assistants, bureaucrats, the scum of governance.
The four who held regency over Uzu all looked at him. Daichi could not really say why he thought the room was filled when a full dozen seats lay empty, but he always got the impression that these four were more than the ordinary single individual. Especially the one at the end – great Izanami, how can someone get a girth like that eating mostly fish and rice?
Yes, Daichi was a very practical young man, no matter that the individual he had so recently brained with a cudgel thought he and his fisherman friends were wearing skirts. So he shook his head to throw out extraneous thoughts and got to the heart of the matter, waving his fishing spear around. "There's a man on the docks with a spiral birthmark on his left shoulder!"
'Cause that explains everything. It really does.
That said, any other four people would be shooting up out of their seats, screaming for other people lower on the totem than they are, gasping in shock, or yelling 'liar!' dramatically at Daichi, but these four were more amazingly awesome than that.
Genjiro Toko steepled his fingers and stared inquisitively at the fisherman.
"It looks real."
Ankari Onimeno stood and quietly left for the docks.
"No really."
Sakurako Moka tilted her head forward, an interested light in her eyes. Though that might be because of the rather magnificent bare chest prominently set off by the wound cloth that was the fisherman's only garb; the fishing spear just adding a certain charm to the picture.
"Proper spiral and all."
Rano Saizo crunched loudly on a celery stick.
Daichi peered a trifle suspiciously at the definite lack of expected action that was happening in front of him. "You're not going to assassinate him in an attempt to keep hold of your regencies and therefore rule Uzu with an iron fist while secretly rolling in the ryo you taxed mercilessly out of the blood and sweat of the common people, are you?"
Genjiro's eyes lit up and his finger steeple grew even more…steepled. Like the probable soon-to-be dictator he was, he laughed. "Kukukuku. (cause laughing like you're a flu-infected dove is supposed to be creepy) I don't know what you mean, Minamo-san (even creepier if compounded by excessive politeness). We are, all of us, only doing our best for the good of the nation (fanatic greater good statements are a must). Kukukuku (just to really let it sink that you're in league with puppy-munching evil)."
Sakurako chuckled (cause she was to be the nice dictator). "If we are, Daichi-kun (patronizing intimacy works wonders as well), how exactly would you stop us?"
Crunch. Thud.
"Er…did he just faint?" Sakurako asked the question just as the door opened, admitting a blonde woman with the perfect bearing that screamed 'spoiled aristocrat but can eviscerate you with a wave of her little finger'. She looked at the unconscious body impassively, as if used to seeing such things in the Hall. "Hey Suisen-chan! You're late; that almost never happens."
"I see I missed the festivities. Too bad." She didn't look regretful at all. "Is he dead?"
Rano shrugged. Genjiro looked even more enthusiastic at the idea; he was now tapping his steepled fingers together. "Is it time to break out the experiment labs again," he wondered, timing the statement just as Daichi was getting himself back up. Being the regent of a small group of islands that have cut themselves off near-completely from the greater continent, you had to take the most opportunity for amusements that you can.
The fisherman thudded back down, unconscious. Take that, Genjiro crowed in his head, shooting a smirk at the still crunching heavy-weight. Damn Rano, making people faint with mere eating sounds. He had to step up his game.
The fisherman was made of sterner stuff though. It was just prone to wilting every once in a while, but now he jumped off the floor, eyes blazing, finger pointing accusingly. "You – you – you bastards!"
The blonde woman took a seat, already wishing she had not come. Why, oh why could she not be like the other Council members who skived from weekly meetings every time they felt like taking a piss?
"I'll stop you! I – I'll tell everyone to stop trading with the mainland! Mark my words! Your evil plans for the Prince will come to naught! He needs a good council if we are ever going to freely contact the mainland once more. This is the dream of every citizen in Uzu, and I cannot do anything to dampen that dream. I'm gonna stop you! Believe it!"
Bang! "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
The spectacularly dramatic and exceptionally long cry of protest did not come from any of the seated councilors but from behind the closed main doors. The blonde woman's left eyebrow twitched as a feeling of impeding catastrophe neared.
Sakurako took on a rather clinical announcer's voice. "Ladies and gentlemen, apparently, the sensationalist attempting to gain entry into this sanctum had attempted to kick the doors open before – probably – crying out in anguish at some perceived slight. Failing that, resorted to the overdone lament we just heard."
The others nodded. Crunch.
Step-step-step. Thud!
"Ah," Genjiro sighed happily, "The sound of some heaven-sent angel bouncing the theatrical fool's head off the stone doors which we never open anymore." The others nodded again, appreciatively.
Either the councilors and Daichi had really good imaginations or this just happened way too often, because that was exactly what happened.
The little side door that they did use instead burst open.
"NOOOOOOO - ARRNNGKKH!"
That was the sound of someone choking on the excess saliva generated by dramatic wailing. Well, everyone thought, that was different.
Choking on saliva is seemingly more of a unique occurrence than breaking various body parts on Uzu's Council Hall door.
Harry Potter stared wide-eyed not at the council, not at the fisherman, but at the shadow that materialized behind the rising council seats. He wouldn't notice until later that he had frozen in a really awkward and uncool position. Then he would wave it off as a figment of his imagination. "Didn't I kill you just a couple hours ago?"
The woman formerly known as Bellatrix Lestrange grinned, her pale and thin face the only break between the rich dark tresses that curled like slightly rebellious gently waving tentacles to her waist and the unrelieved black that clothed her body. "The hell you say? That can't be right. Maybe you should make sure." Poison black lips stretched wider. "It's not like ickle little Potter hasn't killed before, hm-mm."
They glared at each other across the council room, each attempting to get a feel for the other. The minutes ticked by, seeming as long as hours. Harry's hand lifted slightly, nearer the wand holster that rested at his belt. His opponent's wand was already in her hand, and she was fingering it in anticipation. It was understood. She would give him one second's respite and no more.
A breeze swept through the Hall, tugging a lock of hair across the tall woman's pale forehead. It couldn't really do anything that wasn't already done to Harry's hair. The lock of hair settled gently down, snuggling back into its place, like a child into a favorite blanket. Well, that child would have howled indignantly the next second as it was pulled from its bed and bounced all over the room like a yoyo.
Spellfire residue crackled in the air between the combatants as they threw curse after hex after jinx after insult at each other, neither holding back, nasty grins fixed on their faces, jumping, dodging, apparating, there was even a cackle or two thrown in there for good measure.
The woman called Suisen but was better known in another world as Narcissa, leaned slightly to the left to avoid a curse the colour of tomatoes if they were puked out together with a healthy serving of a particularly vivid yellow squash. "They've forgotten we're here, haven't they."
"Yup!" Sakurako enthused, as if being forgotten was a dream being fulfilled. But Narcissa noticed her eyes, like the eyes of all the people in the room – even Ankari who had escorted Harry there (more like resignedly followed the 'escaping' man, but this was no time to quibble) – were concentrated intensely on the duel that was taking place. There was a slight furrow between Genjiro's eyes as he trained his gaze on the combatants, his hands completely still in front of him. Rano had an asparagus stick in his mouth but was not chewing. Sakurako cheered as Harry was flipped into the air and landed with a dull full-bodied thwack on the floor, but not before he loosed a jinx that started Bella trilling like a nightingale and attempting to soar on outstretched arms.
Harry looked up from his prone, painful position. "You know, you'd have killed more muggles if you'd gone into opera, Lestrange; those notes would have their brains leaking out after the first aria."
In the middle of an intricate twirl, Bellatrix loosed a few spells in his direction and forced her voice to stop singing. "I'll have you know, Potter, I was considered for the Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts. Not that it means anything to the stubby uncultured sod you are."
"Did you just call me SHORT?! I'm in the middle of a growth spurt!"
"You keep telling yourself that, you'll always be the shrimp that accidentally sprouted a bush on its head!"
"Hey, I like my hair!" Then he grinned. "I like yours too, Bella. How do you make it come out of your nostrils like that?"
"Come closer, Harrykins," cooed Bella, a rather dangerous light in her eyes. "Didn't you not want to be the Boy-who-Lived?"
"Closer? I'd rather slam my privates in a sliding door."
"Such crude language," Bellatrix commented. "Is there no end to your charming personality?"
"How far do you want to go to find out, dear Bella?"
Before Bellatrix could retort, an exasperated voice broke into their banter. "Harry James Potter, are you flirting with Bellatrix Lestrange?"
"I'm afraid you're mistaken," the woman who was dueling her friend said smoothly. "My name is Hoshiko Kuromaki. Who is this Bellatrix that you speak of?"
"Indeed," seconded Harry innocently. "Surely this Harry has no mien as noble as mine. I am…" He paused to determine a suitably awesome name. "...Korei. One such as me does not engage in such activities with women old enough to be one's grandmother."
"It is troubling to be sure, that a stranger might think a lady of my noble rank would associate in such a manner with a boor of the…lowest caliber. Who are you to make these accusations?"
"Hey! You just said I'm short again, didn't you?" He was ignored.
"You know perfectly well who I am," Hermione retorted, then blinked. "Didn't Harry kill you, by the way?"
The spectre clad in unremitting black scoffed. "As if."
Hermione smirked at her victoriously. The former Death Eater realized just as good as confirmed her identity and cursed for losing the verbal battle. Hermione turned to the seated Council and curtseyed. Harry didn't even know she knew how to do that.
"Honored Elders (cause she's awesomely encyclopedic like that), as Harry's best friend and nearest family, I wish to give advice on the subject of allowing Harry control of your government." That was the news that caused her to run with all haste to this Hall. She paused. "Especially you," she pointed at Suisen, who merely raised an elegant blonde brow. "Cause f*ck if you aren't Narcissa Malfoy. Don't even bother denying it."
When she got no other reaction, she took a deep breath and abruptly bent low at the waist. "Please, please, please don't do it!"
"Hermione!" Harry was aghast. "I just got through stopping that guy," he jerked his head toward Daichi, "from corrupting my evil council!"
"No you didn't," muttered Daichi, eyeing Genjiro and Sakurako warily. ('Cuz these people are so badass they don't need some shitty instant translation jutsu/spell/potion/ritual.)
Hermione looked pleadingly at the Council, not even caring that Narcissa Malfoy was in it. Genjiro inclined his head in acknowledgement. "We understand your concern," he said solemnly. "We have seen firsthand how…unique a personality he has."
Harry beamed and waved at him cheerfully. Genjiro lifted his hand, then coughed in slight embarrassment. Harry was the kind of person you just want to respond to. Genjiro huffed silently at his amused colleagues. He turned his attention to the girl. "Even if we all agreed not to see…Korei as the Prince, I'm afraid it is not guaranteed that he will not be given the post. We are but a part of the entire council."
Harry pouted at the possibility of ready-made minions slipping through his fingers again, but grinned when the man used his alternate name.
"However, they will be of the same mindset as us. Our country needs its ruler and as Ankari has confirmed his bloodline I'm afraid there is no obstacle to his taking the throne."
Hermione blinked. Confirmed? "Confirmed? We've been here an hour!" There was a gleam of the unholy need to know, the absolute hunger for new knowledge that flashed for one moment in those deceptively soft brown eyes. It cast a rather feral light on the girl's face.
"I assure you she would not have allowed him and you so much freedom otherwise," Genjiro dismissed the momentary disconcertion as a trick of the light. A couple of the others on the council filed it away for future reference, one old man in particular.
Hermione could not argue with that or the evident happiness on her friend's features. "Only you, Harry," she sighed. "I suppose that, since Mrs. Malfoy is apparently on your country's Council, there is no stigma against people from other dimensions?"
Silence.
"My name is Suisen Kuromaki. Other than that," The blonde looked at her with a calculating gaze. "very good."
"WHAT?!"
"The stars were just coming out as I was walking here. I just happened to glance up and I…" the lump in her throat she had been ignoring made itself known "…there are no constellations I recognize, Har – "
"Not that," denied her friend indignantly. "That is not Malfoy's mother! I've seen Malfoy's mother and she is old, I mean like fifty or something." He turned to Hermione. "Seriously, she leant over my supposedly dead body to ask about Malfoy – the kid not the old one 'cause he was alive and standing right behind her – and I could see the huge-ass wrinkl – "
"Korei-san." A blonde eyebrow twitched several times before it calmed down. "I assure you, I am not that old."
"Harry! I'm trying to tell you we're in an entirely different dimension and you're fixating on Malfoy's mother?"
He instantly turned to her, hands out in a stop position, eyes wide in denial. "No, I don't have a fetish for authoritative older blonde women!"
Again, silence.
Hah, Harry thought. Me and Hermione, we shock and awe even in different dimensions. Hahah. He of course discounted the fact that they shocked and awed in entirely different ways that were possibly running in the opposite directions; like idiocy and brains, just as an example. And then there was the…wait.
"A different dimension?" he furiously cried. "What the hell is this trash? A different dimension! I had a couple dozen pranks planned, and at least six people on the Wizengamot that I haven't annoyed into…uh..."
Wait.
"A different dimension?" he gleefully cried.
"Why do you keep saying that," an exasperated voice from the council asked. He grinned in that general direction. He would ask Hermione later about these people – the one who had spoken seemed like the perfect stick-up-the-butt person that always had the most hilarious reaction to his pranks. He should start planning immediately. Immediately!
He burst into laughter that took on an increasingly maniacal edge the longer it went on. The look of absolute bliss cast over his face that grew more and more mad was enough to make several of the ninja hidden around the council hall shudder. "Isn't it incredible, Herms! No more stalkers, fangirls, autographs." His eyes widened. "No more Fudge! It's like I don't exist. How absolutely cool is that!"
"…I'm sure I don't know, Harry." But she had the sinking feeling they would have all the time in the world to figure it out.
Several hours later, he was pouting.
"You did agree to basically become king of a country," Hermione reminded her sulking friend. "You got stuck on having minions and forgot how the princes in our world were mobbed every time they took so much as a peep out of whichever royal residence they happen to be in, didn't you?"
"Humph."
"You also forgot about the paperwork."
"Humph."
"The inevitable toadies. Oh, and you had your first assassination attempt," catalogued Hermione cheerfully. "Granted it was a half-hearted attempt by Bellatrix practicing with those Japanese knives, but it still counts, don't you think?"
"Humph."
"In fact," Hermione's smile widened. "It's exactly the same thing you were trying to dodge when you planned all those pranks at the Wizengamot when they were trying to make you Minister, or Mugwump, or some sort of magical knight for wizarding Britain. How odd. It's like the universe is telling you to grow up and accept some responsibility."
"Grumph. Hrrmph."
"No, I don't believe it either." She sighed. "You're still mad at me? Come on, what's so good about having an evil council?"
Harry looked up from doodling on the second sheet of the first of four massive stacks of paperwork. Fake identification papers, applications for fake identification papers, reason for application of application of fake identity papers, real identity papers – huh, better fake those too; it's not like more than two people knew who they really were. And the two weren't known for talking. Well, Bella was, but who could understand all the baby-babble she came out with.
He narrowed his eyes at Hermione's question. "Are you turning goody-two-shoes on me?" He accused.
"Not this again."
He ignored her. "We are not heroes, Hermione. I am a psychotic madman driven to excessive behavior because of extreme neglect and manipulation by so-called responsible adults who deemed my death an acceptable sacrifice for their continued well-being. Why would I exert effort for them when they did all they could to turn their so-called messiah into a martyr?
"Ron was the dead-end alley for all the refuse of five brothers before him; the ambition that would otherwise had at least elevated him out of poverty beaten down and ridiculed by an overbearing mother who constantly compared his accomplishments to those of his infinitely more successful brothers. Not to mention that bigoted Gryffindors-are-the-best spiel that his family and Dumbles spouted – he would have been great in Slytherin, even Hufflepuff! But no, he got into Gryffindor and coasted until his jealousy got the better of him and the only thing he thought could catapult his name to the great heights he sought was going out with a bang!
And then there's you. Brilliant. The best student of Hogwarts since Tom Riddle." He met her eyes, his own green orbs hypnotizing in a seriousness not usually seen in the last few years.
"I went with you to Australia, if you remember. From your parent's reactions, your childhood was nearly as bad as mine and Ron's. They loved you, their brilliant daughter. But they did not know what to do with you and left you with the books you loved so much because you had to, the teachers that praised you, the peers that castigated you for being more mature, more intelligent, more gifted, more adult. Don't tell me you want to be grown-up, Hermione. I know you act it, you even welcome being one; but only because it is easier to move so decisively in their world. How else would you have made such an effective commander of the DA? You took their prejudices, their superiority, and threw it in their faces – you used children against them and you won – and still they did not see your point.
"And at the end of it all, they labeled us heroes, stuck a medal on our chests – Ron's coffin in his case – and then tried to kick us behind glass, to be taken out and polished when they need their egos stroked. What a coup! The Golden Trio that saved the wizarding world were their puppets. They brainwashed the people to believe it and nothing changed."
The last sentence was whispered bitterly. Hermione took another deep breath, and another. She'd heard it all before, of course. Moody, Harry and a few other 'veterans' had become buddies the last year of what was termed the Second Voldemort War. She'd heard such sentiments before, but never so long-winded, and never with so much vitriol.
"We're not heroes," she echoed. Because to the world they left, the definition of hero was something more like Gilderoy Lockhart before his star was stuck on top of a broken stick and held aloft for all the world to ridicule. Heroes were pure and good and, most important of all, biddable.
Harry would sooner swear off flying than have people telling him what to do. She would sooner swear off books than obey an order that would set her against Harry.
He would kick a whimpering puppy into a raging river if it were entertaining. She was the reason the words 'Mudblood Massacre' would be ash rather than ambrosia in Dark sympathizer's mouths for decades to come.
They thought he killed only Voldemort in the war. They thought she was a mere strategist.
They were fools.
Between Harry, Hermione, Ron, and several key people in the DA, they had killed eight times more Death Eaters and Dark sympathizers than ever disappeared, died of natural causes, or had a fatal accident in Grindelwald's war and Voldemort's first rise put together. It was…morbidly fascinating how much damage seven people on vacation for two years across Europe and its surrounding lands could do.
"I still think you're pessimistic though."
He shrugged, then grinned. "So sign off on my evil minions and we'll see if we can take over this world. You know you want to."
"I'll not be a party to inciting more violence. This world is entirely too blood-thirsty as it is."
"Awww, come on. We might even do it peacefully, with as little blood as possible. I won't even have to deploy the evil ninja and the zombie samurai that are in my future employ."
The evil ninja in question who were following them glanced at each other, then at the samurai ostentatiously stationed outside the room and snickered. They did look like zombies.
"You're just saying that because it sounds more challenging." Hermione didn't see the ninja or, if she heard them, didn't really want to know.
"Of course! I'll even forgive you for colluding with that Dyed Chihuahua to take my evil council away from me."
"…you mean Daichi." Even the samurai snickered quietly now.
"I really shouldn't," he continued, ignoring her correction, like he did anything he deemed unimportant. "But you're my friend, so I will forgive you IF…from now on you call me Korei."
"No," she scoffed. He stared at her expectantly. "You're serious. No, pick something else."
"KO-RE-I," he enunciated emphatically. "Or no dice."
They had a staring contest in the little doorless office just across the corridor to the Council Hall. It got so the guards at the doorway were starting to give them odd looks. That was the only reason she capitulated, Hermione thought to herself firmly.
"Fine." She dropped her head into a palm. He whooped – a whoop that sounded like it came from outside the window. She quickly looked at the empty desk, then the barely done paperwork. Oh my God, by Merlin's balls no – she knew she had discovered the source of that ominous feeling. Not so much the paperwork, she had simply tapped the stacks with her wand and voila instant t-crossing, i-dotting spell that she never taught to I'm-the-bloody-assistant-to-the-Minister Percy, the prat. She never taught it to Harry either, come to think of it.
It was more the feeling that she would once again become a Harry-minion. Been there, done that, never gonna do it again. It was horrifying, demeaning, shameless and entirely too much fun. She growled, remembering how that camera-wielding shrimp had tricked her into it. The dark aura that grew metaphysical tentacles whipping around her was a new one for the chakra-sensor ninja guarding her and he fainted.
Thud. It was a sound that would become commonplace during Prince Korei's long, very long, reign.
"Whooo! Come on, Kotoku, we're late!"
"Wha-? I didn't say anything about changing my name!" Harry ignored her and faced the wood that so deceptively covered the stone doors. He lifted a hand and with greatest dignity snapped his fingers. The doors swung open. He smiled gleefully and swept into the Council Hall.
"H-he's not gonna do that every time, is he?" wheezed one of the guards. The other had collapsed panting once Harry-Korei – she couldn't think of him as Korei just yet – passed in. Hermione lifted herself momentarily above her depressed indignation at being called a boy's name and shrugged. "Probably not. But you can never tell."
The guard resolved to have the full complement of eight every time there was even a rumour of his Prince entering the Hall. Two guards were not enough to push back those doors.
She knew Harry-Korei became the unmitigated ass he was sometime into the war when a number of truths were revealed. He became even more of a bastard after the war to annoy as many people out of their hero worship as he can. It was a rather effective solution. For a time. She huffed in amusement, knowing Uzu will never be the same once Harry was done with it.
She only hoped that at the end of it all, they were all still sane.
She walked in after him knowing that she, despite her protests, would follow him to the gates of hell, wait outside while he mooned the devil, and make sure he got back in as whole a healthy piece as possible.
"…right!" He glanced at her and grinned. "That's Kotoku; she's going to be my prime minister."
"I'm not going to be the scapegoat for all the reckless things I know you're going to do," she quickly and firmly stated. With Harry-Korei, it was best to get in some plausible deniability as soon as possible. "And don't call me Kotoku. Where do you get these names anyway?"
"Are you ridiculing my taste? I assure you, my culturally trained senses (Bellatrix scoffed from where she stood in the back) picked the best out of all the Emperors of Japan."
"You mean they were the only two Japanese names you remember."
He ignored her, smiling brightly. "And you know what the best part is? Both our names still begin with the same letters!"
"What." At that flat tone, his lips quirked into the if-you-do-not-do-this-I-am-going-to-do-something-ridiculously-humiliating-and-you-can-not-stop-me smile. There was really something wrong in the way that Hermione could, immediately and with one look, differentiate it from the other threatening smiles he had in his repertoire. Harry could be incredibly subtle when he felt like it, so there were several smiles of a similar bent. Sirius had a similar smile though more in the area of if-you-do-not-do-as-I-say-I-will-defile-your-daughters-and-abscond-with-your-pants-too. She wondered what else Harry had taken from his late godfather.
Considering what happened at numerous wizarding gatherings after that particular smile emerged, being called a boy's name was something she could deal with. It's not like she wasn't used to the grief she got for being named Hermione. The adults will probably ignore it.
The adults, in fact, were watching the little spat curiously. There were fourteen of them, not including Daichi, ranging from late twenties to middle-aged to really freaking old. Seriously, one of them looked older than Dumbledore.
Hermione walked to stand behind Harry. She did it unconsciously, but all the people there took note of it. Fifteen people, for the entire country? Uzu must be small or this wasn't the entirety of them. "This is the ruling council," Bellatrix began conversationally to Hermione. How had she gotten beside them so fast? It wasn't apparation!
"The heads of the ten major noble lines of Uzu. The full council isn't large, just thirty people or so. You'll meet most of them if you take a walk outside. The four with the swirls are the regents."
Hermione, though disconcerted at how casually accommodating the former Death Eater was being, managed to remain at least neutral. "What trickery did you do to get on the council then?"
"I leave the laws to my sister." Bellatrix bared her teeth in a grin. "And you may not know it girl, but there was a time when the Blacks ruled two worlds. We have been nobility here since before the Sage himself."
"How the mighty have fallen, considering Teddy is the only worthwhile member of your family left."
"The werewolf brat," mused the older woman. "He would have flourished here, more than in England. A pity, really. I suppose he is head of the Blacks now that the saviour is here?"
Hermione shrugged, though one of her first thoughts when seeing unfamiliar sky was worry for Harry's amber-eyed godson. Bill and Fleur would take good care of him, once Harry's will was read. Bellatrix's question had quite dashed her hopes of getting back. She felt a pang of sorrow. Her friends, her family, Teddy – it was likely that they would never meet again.
Since they were at it, she was about to ask why the black-clad woman was being so compliant when Bellatrix' head snapped to the meeting. "What the hell, brat? You aren't stealing that name."
Harry pouted. "Why? I am head of the Black family right, dearest Hoshiko-bachan?"
A murderous look appeared on Bellatrix' face, and Hermione could not say how incredibly comforting it was to be back in such familiar territory. "Potter, you – " Narcissa's quelling glare immediately cut off what insults she was about to spout. "But he – "
"He'll be a good addition to the family. He is still, after all, Sirius' heir." Narcissa cut her sister off. There was also the added prestige of the Daimyo being part of your family, of course.
"…Fine." She turned moodily to the beaming nineteen-year-old, then abruptly she was smiling sweetly. Hermione shuddered. "But call me that again, Ko-kun, and I'll rip out your spine through your nose and shove it back through your asshole. No need for permanent damage after all."
Suisen as she must now be called, turned back in satisfaction to the meeting. "That is settled. On the matter of Kotoku-san, are we all in agreement?"
Hermione's eyes narrowed. God, she had taken her attention off the meeting for less than two minutes. Clearly, either Narcissa or Harry had noticed and took the opportunity to screw her over. And they were using that name. The similarly gleeful look on their faces was telling. It was nothing good. Merlin, she never thought that particular expression on those particular faces would scare her more than trading spells with the worst Dark Lord in a hundred years.
The oldest of them, the man seated on Harry's right gestured at her. She hesitantly moved in front of the Council. A dozen pairs of eyes focused on her, and it was a tad more intimidating than standing before the entirety of the Wizengamot.
The ancient man spoke. "Kotoku-san, do you agree with this option? I am one of the last of my family and have no way of passing on the name otherwise. Should you take my name, you would have the responsibility of the entire family, or what is left of it."
Hermione wanted to decline. She already had a family, even though they did not know she existed. As of now, her name was her only tie to them. But the way the old man put it, there was a hint of a plea, a touch of a dying wish. Her pride was the only thing standing in the way of making an old man happy. She bowed low, not letting them see the tears that pricked her eyes.
"I am honored and humbled that such a family would welcome an unknown like me into their heart." She straightened and Harry smiled at her a little sadly; her neutral politician mask was familiar to him. Of course he knew. She smiled back, heart lighter at knowing she was not alone. "I would accept the responsibility and vow to cherish every member of my family."
"Thank you, Kotoku Uzumaki, my granddaughter." The old man smiled. Relief gleamed momentarily in his eyes. Then a sly mischievousness that looked at home in those brown orbs showed. "Also, I have the largest library in Uzu."
She grinned wider. "You think so?"
"Hah! I knew it." He looked a little predatory. "I don't suppose you have some of your world's books with you?" He shot a smug smile in the direction of the Kuromaki sisters, who had classified their knowledge under clan rights. The rest of the council looked a little peeved.
Of course, Hermione understood. They were feudal lords, ninja, samurai. Every edge is needed. "I'm afraid I do not have any of the books with me. We were pulled here a trifle unexpectedly after all."
A couple of people on the council nodded in satisfaction. Heisei Uzumaki grinned widely at her, unfazed. She just knew a lot of their bonding time would be spent picking each other's brain. She was rather looking forward to it.
Even then, she broke down into soft sobs that night. Harry was there to hold her hand, his face pained and somber; his thoughts also in the same distance hers was. She was grateful Heisei-oji had offered them both rooms in his house, because despite her doubts on his sanity, Harry at her side had always been an eye of solid dependable calm in the raging maelstrom of Hogwarts and beyond. They held each other's hand as they slept, giving and receiving silent comfort, much like they did in a tent in the middle of nowhere all those years ago.
When old Heisei came across them propped up against each other, leaning against the open garden door, moonlight streaming over them, he paused in contemplation. Not two seconds later he whipped out a disposable camera and started clicking. Fufufu, he now had excellent blackmail pictures of his adorable new granddaughter and a drooling soon-to-be Daimyo of Uzu. From multiple angles. Fufufu. He looked left, then right, then leaped away.
The ninja who was his guard rolled her eyes at the old man's fading cackling and gently draped a blanket over the two's shoulders before leaping away to follow her principal. She smiled as she looked back. It was cute. She was so gonna get some of those pictures. To er, protect the future clan head, of course.
HPPU HPPU HPPU
"What? Two months?"
"At least." The head of the Uzu council shrugged at Harry, now officially Korei Kuromaki, who clutched at his head and shook it in despair. "The leadership of Uzu is not set up like other countries. The Shinobi Nations have for a century now been using the Kage system. Are you familiar with it?"
Korei recovered from the funk of waiting longer for his evil council long enough to answer enthusiastically. "Sure! The Daimyo and the Shadow, very cool. I was going to make Hermione my prime minister and going to be the Kage!" He swept an imaginary cape over himself and laughed darkly.
"You're not going to be Dracula. And as I said before, you're not going to pin anything on me. You technically are the Kage anyway."
"Really?"
Hermione winced a little at the glee in that single word.
Genjiro nodded. "Uzu is set up more like a kingdom than a ninja nation. The Uzu Daimyo is the leader of all the military and civilian units in the country, even the shadowy ones. In the Elemental Nations, the Kage is a separate ruler, though ostensibly under the leadership of the Daimyo. In Uzu, the ninjas are like a separate military special forces and not a nation-within-a-nation.
"There are advantages to the Daimyo-Kage system of course but with Uzu as small as it is, there is no point in causing a rift between its people. Especially so since the last war devastated us." He said the last a little bitterly.
"Yes," Rano sighed. "Being both the head of the people and the shadow shinobi nation is a fairly recent thing for Uzu. But to the other nations, we still kept the fiction that they were separate. The Uzumaki and Onimeno clans usually served as the smokescreen Kages. The Prince has of course always been taken from traditional successors of the former Sage Emperor."
"I thought that was a myth?"
"You've heard of the Sage of the Six Paths and the bijuu of course, he who taught humans to harness chakra? Then there are a number of sages living today - most of the powerful ones are nomads, hermits, in service to temples or various Daimyo's courts. But before the Sage, there was the Sage Emperor. Chakra was still little known, but he was said to have control over the natural energies just the same because he was the son of the goddess of the lands. He ruled over the Elemental nations and when he died, his sons took over. They were not as powerful, so they could not be called Emperor, only the title Prince was afforded them. The nearer Daimyos claim descent from these princes, but only Uzu still has the right to call its leader a Prince. There are also several other princedoms in the farther reaches of the Nations, but in the immediate continent all the other lines have died out. The Daimyos are descendants of advisers and regents or illegitimate lines and in-laws.
"Uzu has kept its line through the ages, but only because of the spirit seal that descendants inherit," he nodded at Korei. "According to the charter, if a Prince with the appropriate seal birthmark does not appear in a hundred years, a Daimyo will have to ascend. But enough of fairy stories. The council of the Land of Whirlpools is made up of ninja, samurai, and civilians. Some of the council is not yet here. We always send everyone who leaves Uzu with some kind of protection. A lot of the traders are in Konoha now, for the Chuunin Exams."
"Chuunin exams?" Kotoku wondered why traders would go to an examination. "Are there many people taking it?"
"Oh no, it's for ninja only, a rank examination. The Kages of the various shinobi villages participating come together to decide whether to promote their ninja. The ninja ranks in ascending order are genin, chuunin, then jounin. People from all over the Nations go to see the exams, especially the tournament. We haven't sent our genin to the exams for more than twenty years."
"Eh why? Tournaments are fun, especially if there aren't any dragons or dark lords trying to kill you." His face darkened. "Or headmasters willing to throw you to the dogs to train you."
Kotoku shifted, glancing at the two Kuromakis. Suisen had an impassive look on her face. Hoshiko was grinning maliciously. Oh no. "Think again, Korei-kun. It's a ninja tournament. These are people who kill for money, trained as toddlers to be assassins and mercenaries. The Chuunin examiners frown on killing an opponent, but there are no rules against it. In certain villages, it is even encouraged. And I assure you, Dumbledore at his prime would be nothing next to a Kage."
"That gives me an idea," Harry murmured. Then snapped his fingers at his best friend who only raised an eyebrow. "Kotoku! We're going on a world tour!"
Good thing Hermione had braced herself for whatever insane plan was coming out of his mouth. She readied herself to retort, then stopped. That was actually a good idea. Her brow wrinkled a little, thinking of the logistics, then she looked up to ask if there was a good map of the Elemental Nations and found everyone staring at her. Harry was beaming, his green eyes sparkling behind his glasses. "What?"
"Yes! I've finally corrupted her to my thinking!" he swung a finger to the rest of the people in the council chamber, cackling. "Just you wait."
Several actually seemed nervous at that statement. "You think traveling around the Nations is a good idea?" Genjiro asked, clearing the confusion from Hermione's expression. She said that out loud?
"Yes. If Harry, er, Korei is to be a leader then seeing the other nations would only be a good thing. We know nothing of the Hidden Continent; it would be an incredible learning experience."
"You can't!" Daichi actually looked worried. "It's dangerous in the Continent, even for trained ninja. There are missing nin everywhere and it is said that the Sannin Orochimaru has created his own hidden village."
Korei blinked. "Eh? You're still here, Dynamo Chikadee?"
Cue snorts and chuckles. "Korei," Kotoku sighed. "Daichi's actually on the council, the civilian part. He was elected a few months ago, but this is his first session."
"Oh, a political virgin!" Korei stuck his thumbs up at the council. "Good job!" He patted Daichi on the head. "Don't worry, Daikon Chips, we have magic!" A burst of glitter and confetti descended over Daichi's head and shoulders. He glared at Korei.
"Sparkly paper is not going to help you."
"Says youuuuuu~!" Korei sang as he left the council room, a gleam in his eye. Kotoku nodded sympathetically at Daichi. "I've read about your ninja techniques. While he can't jump on roofs, I assure you Korei can take care of himself."
"And very unorthodox in his methods, I assume?" Heisei rumbled thoughtfully. When Kotoku nodded, he stuck a thumb up and grinned widely. "I approve of this trip!"
"Uzumaki-sama!" One of the council members protested. "He could be killed!"
"Didn't you hear my granddaughter? He is very powerful, or did you not see how utterly insane he is?" There were murmurs of agreement from the rest and the guards. It was well known that the more powerful the shinobi, the more strange their antics. And Korei-oujisama was very strange indeed. Hermione felt a sort of disbelieving chagrin at these proceedings. Then an image of Dumbledore's robes came to mind and she nodded. Was that what it was?
Genjiro clapped his hands together at her gesture. "There, see, all is well. We will plan an itinerary."
"...why are you so accommodating?" Daichi asked suspiciously.
Genjiro steepled his fingers once more, then solemnly asked. "Did Korei-ouji strike you as a man who would do well simply sitting still on a throne?"
There was a thoughtful silence as the head of the council let them think it out for themselves. Daichi sighed and shook his head.
"Yes, he looks to be a man who is happiest doing something. And after he and my granddaughter have learned the secrets the Shinobi Nations have to offer, he will be even stronger."
HPPU HPPU HPPU
Korei Kuromaki stood at the edge of the stone cliff that protected Uzu from the wrath of the storms and kept the nation from being found by sea travelers. Coming from the continent, any ship would see it as a small hazardous hunk of rock that jutted out from the seabed, hazardous for the waves that dashed violently against it. No one but the inhabitants knew how to navigate that treacherous maze.
"Harry."
He turned and smiled. "Hermione."
Kotoku Uzumaki came to stand beside him, looking fascinated at the ocean that raged around the hidden island. Every now and then, a whirlpool would appear and disappear as the tides came in and rushed out. "Wow." No wonder the country kept hidden for over several decades. There must be some interesting current patterns around it.
"Are we really doing this?"
He smirked. "They don't know me here."
She grinned at him. "Right. They can't imagine the heights of craziness you can get to." She was just as excited as he was. There was an entire continent with wandless magic-wielding people living integrated with non-magical. Who wouldn't be excited? "It's just that, things are moving too fast. We got here, then the next day I got adopted and you were going to be a prince."
"Is that the real reason you agreed with my world tour, Kotoku?"
"Part of it. But I always wanted to travel too. You think I'd pass up the opportunity, Korei?"
AN. A lot of inconsistencies, but this is just something I needed to get out of my head space. This story was supposed to be called Aranami no Ouji, which means, as far as my research goes: Prince of the Raging Waves. I don't think I'll ever write a sequel but if I did, that would be the title.