Chapter 2: The Weight of the Crown
Harry was standing in an ante room in Parliament House. He stared at the painting on the wall. It showed an ancestor of his—Henry Potter—if the sign was to be believed, opening the first Parliament. Harry looked down at the uniform he was wearing.
It was the uniform of a field marshal of the Royal Army, dark blue tunic and trousers with two gold stripes running down the outside of each leg. Gold epaulettes adorned his shoulders, and two rows of sparkling brass buttons ran down the front. The standing collar was encrusted with gold braid in the shape of laurels. A black sword belt was worn over a wine coloured sash. Spit-shined black shoes completed the ensemble. He had no hat or awards. His hair was slicked down and combed neatly for the first time in his life. Harry felt like he was playing dress-up.
"Harry," David said from the open door. "It's time."
Harry walked into the assembly chamber. It looked much like the House of Lords in London that Harry remembered seeing on the telly. It was full, and when he entered, everyone stood. He walked purposefully towards the throne at the far end of the hall, mentally tamping down the butterflies in his stomach. All the seats were occupied, as was the visitor's gallery overhead. There were video cameras in the corners surrounded by even more people. Harry was bad at guessing numbers, but he would've said there were easily over five hundred people in the room.
He reached the throne and stood facing it. James Morgan, the Prime Minister, stood in front of him, looking out over the assembled masses. He was wearing a simple black robe with a livery collar around his neck. His badge of office was on his left breast. Music Harry hadn't even noticed stopped. The silence was deafening.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" bellowed the Prime Minister. "I here present unto you Harry James, your undoubted King. Wherefore all you who are come this day to do your homage and service, are you willing to do the same?" There was an unintelligible roar from the crowd. "Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the Peoples of the Avalon, according to their laws and customs?"
"I so promise, and I so swear," Harry replied.
"Will you to your power cause law and justice, in mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?" the Prime Minister asked.
"All this I promise to do," Harry agreed. "The things which I have here before promised, I will perform, and keep."
Without further words, the lieutenant general commanding the army came forward from the right, and strapped an ancient sword to his belt: Excalibur. It was plain steel, ancient and eternal, polished to the highest sheen. The grip was wrapped in oiled black leather. A single large sapphire sparkled from the pommel. He moved to stand behind Harry. David approached from behind, and robed him in a crimson cloak edged in ermine. The cloak was of the finest cloth but sat heavy on his shoulders. Then, Tom approached from the left, and placed a livery collar around his neck, sparkling in gold and studded with precious gems. Charlus approached last, and placed a heavy gold signet ring on his finger. The ceremony was almost complete.
A functionary moved from the side bearing the crown on a purple pillow. The Prime Minister removed it and bore it up over their heads, displaying it. It was what he'd always imagined a monarch's crown should be; not one of the fancy Victorian crowns with purple silk, but a single thick band of gold, carved intricately, studded with gems below the eight points of the crown.
"By the constitution and laws of Avalon, I crown thee Harry, King of Avalon," he said. Harry felt the weight of the crown rest on his head.
"Long live King Harry!" the crowd shouted in unison. "Long live Avalon!" Morgan moved away, standing to the side of the throne.
"Take your throne, Your Majesty," he said, bowing. Harry walked slowly towards the massive gold chair, raised up above the dais on a crimson riser. He turned, and sat, beholding the throngs.
"Who would come before me to pledge fealty?" Harry asked. The entire ceremony was planned, and had been rehearsed several times by the key players the day before. He'd made sure to memorize his few lines. Thirteen men and one woman stepped forward, including Charlus.
"I will be faithful and loyal," they chorused after they knelt. "And will maintain faith and loyalty to Harry, King of Avalon, and to his heirs, in matters of life and limb and of earthly honour against all mortal men; and never will I bear arms for anyone against him or his heirs. So swear I."
"Arise my man, Duke of Avalon," Harry said. A fifty year old man in a general's uniform stood and nodded at Harry. "Arise my man, Duke of Cornwall." A ninety year old man in a naval officer's uniform stood and nodded at Harry. "Arise my man, Earl of Lyonesse." A forty year old man in an army uniform stood and nodded at Harry. "Arise my man, Earl of Camelot." A fifty year old man in an air force uniform stood and nodded at Harry. "Arise my man, Earl of West Wales." A twenty year old man in a navy uniform stood and nodded at Harry. "Arise my man, Earl of Dumnonia." A sixty year old man in a navy uniform stood and nodded at Harry. "Arise my man, Count of Brittia." A seventy year old man in black robes rose and nodded at Harry. "Arise my man, Count of Celliwig." A thirty year old man in black robes stood and nodded at Harry. "Arise my man, Count of Sarras." An eighty year old man in black robes stood and nodded at Harry. "Arise my man, Count of Annwn." A fifty year old man in black robes lumbered to his feet and nodded at Harry. "Arise my lady, Countess of Exeter." The only woman of the group, a sixty year old in black robes, stood and nodded at Harry. "Arise my man, Count of Cameliard." A twenty year old in an army uniform stood and nodded at Harry. "Arise my man, Count of Potter." Charlus, wearing an immaculate air force uniform stood slowly and nodded at Harry. "Arise my man, Count of Glastonbury." A forty year old man in a navy uniform stood and nodded at Harry. "Go forth and do great things on our behalf. I charge you." Without a word, the fourteen nobles of the realm turned and marched down the middle of the hall, and out the door.
"Mister Speaker," Harry called. The Speaker appeared in front of him. "It would please me for you to open Parliament."
"It shall be done, Your Majesty," she said. Then she turned. "I hearby declare Parliament opened. Fellow ministers, may I present to you, Harry, King of Avalon!"
"It is my wish that you should dutifully legislate in accordance with our constitution," Harry said. "Be faithful in your work, and mindful of the least of us at all times. Madam Speaker."
"Is there any new business?" she asked. Hearing none, as was planned, she continued. "I declare this session of Parliament adjourned until the morrow. Your Majesty, the people await." Harry stood, and walked down the aisle.
He stepped out onto the portico, and took in the throng of cheering people. In the fore was a battalion of troops in formation with colours and band massed in front. On his arrival they immediately presented arms and dipped the colours. The band sounded a fanfare and then began a patriotic song, which Harry had been told was the national anthem. Harry could see the north-west tower, where the sovereign's personal standard was being raised to denote him in residence. When the flag reached the top it fluttered open, showing a golden stag rampant on a blood red field. Charlus and the Prime Minister flanked him.
"Wave, Harry," Charlus whispered. Harry complied. When the anthem concluded, a cannon fired from one of the towers, followed by another, culminating with the twenty-first shot a minute later. Just when Harry thought things were done, a trio of fighter jets screamed low over the courtyard in a vic formation trailing red gold and red smoke. When the jets left the courtyard lapsed into silence.
"Avalon!" called the Prime Minister. "I present your King: Harry, first of that name."
"Long live the King!" the people shouted back. "Long live the King! Long live the King!" Harry was nearly overtaken by unexpected emotion at the acclaim. Harry had come to realize that, despite his wishes, becoming the monarch of a sovereign country made his desired regression into anonymity impossible. The last twenty-four hours had largely been spent coming to terms with that.
He had considered what it was about his fame that he didn't like. He had come to realize that it was that he felt like a fraud. Few people knew about his actions the first three years of his Hogwarts education, some of which were truly worthy of acclaim. Instead, they chose to laud him for an action that occurred before he was fully cognizant of his surroundings, and which he couldn't remember. He was famous for his mum's actions, not his own. The fact that his fame in Britain sprung from what was perhaps the worst day of his life didn't help.
Harry then pondered the role he'd already begun to play in Avalon. On the surface, it might seem similar. There was public acclaim for something he had no control over, namely his birth to the predecessor to the throne. That, however, was not true. His current popularity was due to a residual contentment with the House of Potter, however Harry knew fame was fickle. If he did a poor job as King, the public would turn against him.
While terrifying, that was also liberating. For the first time Harry's actions would drive his popularity. If Harry did a good job, he'd be liked. If he did a poor job, he'd be hated. The point was, Harry was in control of his own destiny, and he had realized the night before that he could live with that. Here he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived, or the Boy-Who-Lied, or whatever the Prophet had cooked up that week depending on the mood of the Ministry. Here, he was King Harry, and his actions would be judged on their face.
"Care to address the crowd?" Charlus asked softly. Harry gulped and nodded before applying a sonorous charm to himself.
"People of Avalon!" Harry began, addressing the hushed crowd. "I thank you for your warm welcome. I hope to carry on the tradition of good, responsible governance and innovation that has prevailed here. I want to see you all succeed: in life, in love, in business.
"I know hardship," he said. "I know what it's like to struggle. I've seen people overcome all manner of difficulty to better themselves and make a way in the world. I hope to bring that experience to my reign. I will endeavour to choose the hard right over the easy wrong. I will stand firm against the storm for what I believe in, and try to make Avalon and the World a better place. Thank you." For a moment there was silence. Then the applause began, a growing, thunderous wave of clapping and cheers that spread across the courtyard and reverberated off the walls. "I should have prepared something better," Harry said to Charlus over the noise.
"You did fine," Charlus replied. "Wave some more for a few minutes, and then we can get down to business."
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Hestia sat in the parlour of the Burrow. She'd received an owl telling her that there was to be an emergency meeting early this morning. It had been a long flight for the owl. Her flight back from Avalon had landed several hours before, giving her ample time to prepare. Around her sat most of the other members of the Order, including a distraught Molly Weasley. At last, the floo flared and Dumbledore stepped through.
"Ah, I see we're all here," Dumbledore began, projecting a calm outward appearance. "I must begin by saying that I have some rather unfortunate news. It would appear that Harry Potter has disappeared." Though there was some murmuring, there wasn't the outright shock there should've been, as everyone had known for at least fifteen minutes already. Molly Weasley had told everyone as they'd arrived that Harry was missing. This was just official confirmation.
"He did not depart the Hogwarts Express with his friends, though he did arrive in King's Cross aboard the train," Dumbledore reported. "When he did not appear as expected, Alastor, Remus, and Nymphadora…" Tonks frowned at the mention of her name. "…conducted a brief search using revealing spells and Alastor's eye, but were unable to locate him. They reported to me immediately. I checked Privet Drive and Grimmauld Place that afternoon. He was not at Privet Drive, and I was unable to access Grimmauld Place. I could confirm, however, that no one but Kreature was inside."
"How'd you do that?" Daedalus Diggle asked.
"I called for Kreature and he appeared," Dumbledore replied. "I asked him two questions: first, if Harry was inside, and second, if he'd been told to lie to me about Harry's whereabouts. The answer to both questions was no. Then I sent an owl to search for Harry. It lost its tracking charm somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, and has not returned."
"The Atlantic Ocean?!" Molly shrieked. "Has he gone to America?"
"At this time nothing is known for certain," Dumbledore replied. "I've mapped the known flight path of the bird, and there are several islands along the path, had it continued in a straight line. The first is Madeira, followed by the Canaries and Cape Verde, and lastly, South Georgia Island."
"Well, that certainly narrows it down," Remus groaned. "How would he have gotten to any of them?"
"Do they even have wizarding populations?" Tonks asked, astonished.
"Why would he go to any of those places?" Hestia decided to weigh in.
"Does he speak Spanish or Portuguese?" Elphias Doge wanted to know.
"I think first, it's important to remain calm," Dumbledore said. "We shall, of course, mount expeditions to each of these islands to search for Mr. Potter."
"Are we sure he's there?" Bill Weasley asked. "The owl could've been blown off course, or confounded, or any number of things."
"We can only use the information available to us," Dumbledore said. "We will, of course, try to develop more information, but while we do, it would behove us to check for him where the information we do have points." He got nods from most of the people present. "Now, it is perhaps most likely that he travelled to South Georgia, as the few residents speak English there. I would like Remus and Nymphadora to travel to South Georgia to search for him. I'll arrange the long distance portkey."
Hestia snorted, knowing those two there wouldn't be much 'searching' going on other than in each others' trousers. Remus' nose would've come in handy in an actual search. Too bad it wouldn't smell anything of use.
"I'd like Alastor and Emmaline Vance to travel to the Canaries, and search there," Dumbledore continued. "Bill and Minerva, I'd like you to go to Cape Verde. Finally, Elphias and Daedalus, you should go to Madeira to look for Harry."
"I think we'll be needin' a few more hands to help in the Canaries and Cape Verde," Moody grunted. "There's more 'n one island in those chains."
"Very well," Dumbledore allowed. "Fred and George will accompany Bill and Minerva to Cape Verde. Severus, you and Sturgis will accompany Alastor and Emmaline to the Canaries."
Hestia didn't miss Snape's sour look or Molly's frown.
"Molly," Dumbledore continued. "I'd like you and Hestia to interview Harry's friends to see if they have any idea of where he went."
"Headmaster," Snape cut it. "Wouldn't it be better if I interviewed the children?"
"Severus," Dumbledore smiled sadly. "In spite of your abilities, your presence might hinder our investigation. I'm confident that Molly can tease the truth out of Ron, Ginny, and Hermione." Hestia noted that he didn't include Neville or Luna. Perhaps he'd forgotten about them.
The meeting stumbled along for a few more minutes, in which Wizengamot business was discussed, as well as what the Aurors were doing to fight Voldemort, and what Voldemort was doing. Hestia paid attention for the sake of her intelligence summaries, but most of that was handled by a magical audio recorder which she'd review later. When the meeting broke up, Hestia went to Molly Weasley.
"Would you like to interview your children?" Hestia asked. "I can handle Miss Granger, Mr. Longbottom, and Miss Lovegood."
"Why would you interview Neville and Luna?" Molly asked, surprised.
"They went with Harry to the Ministry," Hestia reasoned. "They must be his friends, and they might know where he went."
"They can't be too good of friends," Molly replied. "Ron or Ginny would've told me." Hestia mentally rolled her eyes. Ron was obviously a self-aggrandizing idiot, and Ginny had probably learnt long ago not to tell her mother anything. At least Molly knew about Hermione. Though, knowing Molly, she probably thought Hermione would marry Ron and become a docile housewife like herself. If Megan's reports were anything to go by, nothing could be farther from the truth. Hermione was much closer to Harry than she was Ron, and the verbal altercations between her and Ron were apparently something of a monthly ritual and a source of wagering for much of the student body. Ron might be stupid enough to think that was normal and healthy for a relationship, but she was certain that Hermione was smarter than that, even if she was socially stunted.
"It's worth a shot," Hestia shrugged. "I'll let you know how it goes."
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Harry had changed into slate grey trousers and a blue and white checked button down. He was in his office with Tom trying not to be distracted by the beautiful day outside. Tom ushered in the first of his many meetings.
"This is Richard White, the Foreign Minister," Tom informed him.
"Good morning, Mr. White," Harry said politely, standing and shaking his hand.
"Your Majesty," White replied, smiling back.
"Please be seated," Harry said, sitting himself. "I don't have an agenda for this meeting, so please tell me about the Foreign Ministry."
"That's fairly easy, sir," White said. "The ministry maintains small embassies in Great Britain, Ireland, Iceland, Canada, the United States, France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany, and Spain. These are envoys to the muggle governments, and interact only with the heads of state, head of government, and chief foreign officials of those countries. Most people don't know we exist, and we obliviate those who do know once the need to know is gone. We also have offices in the British, French, Canadian, and American embassies that facilitate trade with those countries magical populations. In French, Canadian, and American magical populations we pose as British merchants, while in Britain, we pose as Canadians. We also have an office that observes the business of the ICW, however, we don't have a seat, and aren't an acknowledged body there. They aren't even aware we exist.
"The Foreign Ministry also operates the customs checkpoints at our airports and seaports, as well as coordinates with the Defence Ministry regarding borders and airspace. We house some Defence personnel in our embassies who are there for intelligence gathering purposes, too," White continued. "We work closely with the Trade Ministry and the Transportation and Infrastructure Ministries to expedite international travel and trade. We are the fourth smallest ministry with about fifteen hundred employees."
"I realize I'm new to Avalon, so please forgive my questions," Harry began. "Why do we hide from the magical governments?"
"The feeling in most of the country is that the rest of the world is doing it wrong," White replied easily. "We've accepted other sentient magical beings as equals. We've adapted muggle technology to work with magic. We integrate magical and muggle society. We remain segregated from the magical world because they would have a difficult time accepting our methods. In Avalon, we violate the statute of secrecy every minute of every day, but that's because we don't have the same history they do. There were no witch burnings here. We've never had a dark lord. The magical population far outstrips that of any other country, save perhaps America and China, but our Magical to Muggle ratio is astronomically high. We abide by the statute of secrecy by keeping our entire country secret, because there's no way we'd be able to keep the secret of magic secret from other muggles."
"Are there any issues you'd like to raise with me?" Harry asked thoughtfully.
"Not at this time, sir," White replied congenially. "The Foreign Ministry has no problems, and there's not much going on in the rest of the world, except for Britain, which you already know about. You should receive briefings on that front from the Defence Ministry."
"Very well," Harry nodded. "I thank you for your time, Mr. White." They again shook hands and White left. "Who's next?" he asked Tom.
"Health and Social Services," Tom replied, glancing at a sheet. He ducked out for a second before bringing in a woman. "This is Yvette Lewis, Minister for Health and Social Services."
"Hello, Madam Lewis," Harry said, politely, standing and shaking her hand. "Please sit."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Lewis replied.
"I think yours is one area that I'm most excited about," Harry informed her.
"That's rather unusual, sir," Lewis observed. "To most, Health and Social Services is just there."
"I think you'll find that I'm different," Harry said. "I've read through a bit of the brief, but please, tell me about your Ministry."
"As the name implies, we operate the National Health Service," Lewis explained. "The National Health Service operates seven hospitals in six cities. There are forty general practitioner offices throughout the country as well. Dental services are also available at GP offices. We have twelve hundred healthcare workers including doctors, nurses, medical technicians, and medical specialists, and healthcare administrators. We train and supply all Emergency Medical Technicians to the fire brigades.
"We also oversee the Pension and Welfare Offices," Lewis continued. "Pensioners in Avalon are over sixty years of age for muggles, eighty years of age for magicals, and one hundred forty years of age for high elves. Before you ask, we don't offer pension services for house elves, because they never stop working. We've offered on at least four occasions. We tie the pension rate to one and a half times the minimum wage.
"The Welfare Office oversees cases where people can't support themselves," Lewis said. "It's divided into the Adult Welfare Section and the Child Welfare Section. Adult Welfare usually means help with funding and job placement, but can also include connecting people with educational resources, mental health providers, or behavioural health providers. Child Welfare can mean cooperating with police to investigate abuse, placing children with foster parents, and ensuring guardians have the ability to meet certain children's special needs."
"I'm impressed," Harry told her. "As an orphan myself, I'm quite keen to see they're properly taken care of. I'm also interested in child health and welfare. I'll be sure to urge Parliament to keep your funding where it's needed. Do you have any issues you'd like to raise with me?"
"No sir," Lewis said, shaking her head. "Prince Charlus has been very good to us at Health and Social Services."
"That's great to hear," Harry said. "I'd best let you get back to work. I'll try to stop by your office soon to see how everything works." He shook her hand again before she left. "Who's next?"
"Justice," Tom said. He moved to open the door.
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"Hello. Can I help you?" Hermione asked as she opened the door.
"Good morning, Miss Granger," the woman at the door said, surprising her. "My name is Hestia Jones. I'm here to talk to you about Harry Potter. May I come in?"
"How do I know you?" Hermione asked, scrunching her face in concentration.
"I saw you last year when you were staying at Grimmauld Place," Hestia reminded her.
"Yes!" Hermione said, making the connection. "Please come in. My parents are at their surgery, so they're not here. We'll have privacy. Tea?"
"No, thank you," Hestia replied with a smile. She did take the offered seat on the couch.
"Have you found Harry yet?" Hermione asked as she sat.
"Before I go any farther," Hestia said gently. "I'll need a magical oath that you'll not purposely reveal what I'm about to tell you to anyone."
"Won't that violate the underage restrictions on magic?" Hermione asked cautiously.
"When your wand bonded to you, it sparked, correct?" Hestia asked.
"Yes," Hermione allowed.
"Did you receive a message from the Improper Use of Magic Office?" Hestia pressed.
"No," Hermione realized.
"This will be like that," Hestia said. Hermione nodded and pulled out her wand.
"I, Hermione Granger, swear on my magic not to purposefully reveal the contents of my conversations today with Hestia Jones to anyone unless she allows it at a later date, and then only to those people whom she allows. So mote it be," Hermione said. She swished her wand and blue sparks fell from it.
"Excellent," Hestia said. "First: Harry is safe and, I presume, happy. He's had a very serious change in his life. While I can't reveal his location, I can say that he's not in the United Kingdom or Ireland."
"Oh, thank God," Hermione said, sagging. "I'm so glad the headmaster found him."
"That is not the case," Hestia said carefully. "The headmaster and the Order are still ignorant of Harry's whereabouts. They are currently searching in the Spanish and Portuguese islands in the eastern Atlantic for Harry, as well as South Georgia Island in the South Atlantic."
"Why haven't you told Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione nearly screeched.
"What do you know of Dumbledore?" Hestia asked.
"He's the headmaster of Hogwarts, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and the leader of the Order of the Phoenix," Hermione recited.
"Were you aware that he secreted Harry Potter off to his muggle aunt and uncle's after his parents' death and magically hid him there until he turned eleven?" Hestia asked.
"Yes," Hermione nodded.
"Were you aware that he caused Harry's parents' will to be sealed before it could be read?" Hestia asked next.
"No," Hermione said. "Why would he do that?"
"Were you aware that Sirius Black was innocent, and never had a trial?" Hestia asked.
"Yes," Hermione agreed.
"Were you aware that Dumbledore was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot in 1981? That he was aware that Sirius Black was denied a trial, but did nothing, allowing him to be imprisoned?" Hestia asked.
"What? No!" Hermione gasped. "Why would he do that?"
"Why indeed," Hestia said softly. "Why, in the intervening years did he not request a trial for Sirius Black? Why did he ask that the Potters' will be sealed? He holds three of the most important offices in government, and is the self-proclaimed leader of the light faction in the Wizengamot. Doesn't all this seem strange to you?
"I'll have to think on that," Hermione said.
"I'll leave off with this…" Hestia said. "Think back on the things you experienced at Hogwarts over the years. Has Dumbledore always acted in Harry's best interest? Or yours? He is your magical guardian as well as Harry's. He is the magical guardian of all muggleborn and other students who lack a magical guardian. Can you trust Dumbledore to act in your best interest in the future? Dumbledore is convinced that Harry must sacrifice himself so that Voldemort can be defeated. It is part of his plan… a plan he's shared with most of the Order. Sirius vigorously fought that plan, but was still working to stop it. Now, he's not around to stop it."
"Fuck," Hermione swore.
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The Justice, Trade, Treasury, Culture, and Environment Ministers had all come and gone. Education had just wrapped up a discussion of the Avalonian school system including the Royal University of Avalon and the two trade schools. Harry was impressed. The Avalonian education system was far better than the British magical education system. He thanked the minister, and watched her leave.
"How many more?" Harry asked Tom.
"Just two: Transportation and Infrastructure, and Defence," Tom replied, and left. A moment later he returned with an elderly gentleman. "This is the Transportation and Infrastructure Minister, Tom Jones."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Jones," Harry said, shaking his hand. "No relation to the singer, I assume?"
"No, Your Majesty," Jones chuckled. He either hadn't gotten tired of that joke yet, or he was humouring Harry.
"So tell me about Transportation and Infrastructure," Harry ordered.
"Sir, I'll address transportation first," Jones began. "We have all the same methods of transportation that most magical and most muggle societies have. The ministry maintains a network of class A and class B roads, which you'll be familiar with from Britain. We don't have any motorways, however. City and village streets are maintained by the local councils. Most people use cars to get about outside of cities. The Vehicle Licensing Office licenses those vehicles, as well as brooms, private aircraft, and private watercraft.
"The Royal Railway, which you own, but we operate on your behalf, connects all five major population centres on the Island of Avalon, with stops at smaller villages and towns between them," Jones explained. "Royal Rail also moves the majority of the country's freight within the country. It uses modified steam locomotives where the water is heated by magic, reducing pollution. Camelot, Port Arthur, and Pen Rhionydd have mass transit composed of streetcars which run on magic, but those are operated by the local councils as well.
"Avalon Air, which you also own, is the Avalonian flag airline," Jones continued. "It operates out of the two commercial airports in Avalon: Camelot and Port Arthur. It offers daily service to Shannon, Dublin, Edinburgh, London via London City Airport, Paris, and Amsterdam flying fourteen magically modified BAe 146-300 aircraft. We operate the airline on your behalf, as well as operate the airports.
"Port Arthur Royal Carrier Enterprises Limited (or PARCEL) is the largest maritime shipping company in Avalon," Jones said, "responsible for over seventy percent of the merchant tonnage of Avalonian companies. PARCEL ships goods worldwide using a fleet of container ships. Other large companies include the Channel Company, a regional shipping company, and Avalon Ferries, the only ferry service from Avalon, connecting it with Plymouth, Brest, and Cork. Our ministry regulates shipping and oversees the port facilities.
"When it comes to magical travel, we operate the national floo system, as well as the hidden international floo connection," Jones finished up. "We regulate portkey and broom use, as well. The rule is you can fly anywhere you want, so long as you're outside of the airport and air base areas. Portkeys aren't allowed to end in anyone's home or business unless you own it.
"When it comes to infrastructure," Jones said, "we operate a two hundred megawatt power plant that uses magic to turn the generators. We exclusively use buried cables for power and other utilities. The Avalon Telecom Office operates the telephones and they have a good working relationship with the Avalon Power Office. We also run water and sewer utilities through the Avalon Water Office. The engineering office takes care of other infrastructure, such as government buildings and bridges. That concludes my presentation."
"Good brief," Harry said. "I'll be running around for a while, and I'm excited to see how the magical and muggle transportation systems are integrated. Do you have any questions or concerns for me?"
"No, sir," Jones replied. "I think you'll find we run quite the tight ship at Transportation and Infrastructure."
"Thank you for your time," Harry said, shaking the man's hand before he left. As the door closed, he sank back into his chair and sighed. "One more?"
"One more," Tom acknowledged. "But it's not easy. I'll be right back." He disappeared through the door for a moment before reappearing with the Duke of Avalon. He was in his fifties, with close-cropped salt and pepper hair combed neatly. He had icy blue eyes, and squared shoulders. He wore an olive uniform with the crown, pip, and crossed baton and sword of a general on his epaulettes.
"Good afternoon, Lord Avalon," Harry said in greeting, shaking his hand.
"Good afternoon, Your Majesty," the duke replied warmly.
"Please sit," Harry said, gesturing to the chair, then sat himself. "So, tell me about the Ministry of Defence."
"Avalon maintains a small active armed force comprised of the Royal Army, the Royal Navy, and Royal Air Force. The active duty Army is primarily ceremonial in nature, while the Navy and RAF do provide some actual service," the duke explained. "The active component of the military number approximately four thousand personnel. The rank structure and general organisation mirrors the British Armed Forces.
"As King, you are the commander-in-chief of the Armed Forces, and act as Field Marshal, Admiral of the Fleet, and Marshal of the RAF," the duke reminded him. "As Defence Minister, I hold the rank of General, and act as your chief of staff. Each branch is led by the equivalent to a NATO OF-8: a Lieutenant General commands the Army, a Vice Admiral commands the Navy, and an Air Marshal commands the Air Force.
"The majority of the Avalonian Armed Forces are reserves, who train two days a month, and two weeks during the summer," the duke said. "Service in the reserves is compulsory from age 18 until age 25, for muggles, magicals, and high elves, though a deferment may be obtained until university is completed, at which point the eight year commitment is activated."
"What about house elves?" Harry asked.
"Reserve service is compulsory for them from age four to eleven," the duke replied. "The Avalonian military does not discriminate between men and women, or with regard to race, religion, sexual orientation, or magical ability. The only restriction is that all house elves are restricted to service on Avalon, or in the Royal Navy below decks, and that high elves use a glamour charm to disguise their ears, so as not to violate the statute of secrecy.
"Once activated, the Royal Army consists of a division and several independent regiments. The division has three brigades: 1st Guards Brigade, 2nd Airborne Brigade, and 3rd Armoured Brigade. The Army and 1st Division are headquartered here at Camelot Castle, which is guarded by the King's Guards and their attachments. 1st Guards Brigade is based here and at the nearby Lancelot Barracks. 2nd Airborne Brigade and most of the Army support troops are based at Fort Hector in the north. It's also where our training establishment is located. 3rd Armoured Brigade is based at Fort Winthrop on the south-east coast with the remainder of the Division's troops. At full strength, the Royal Army fields approximately sixteen and a half thousand soldiers. We use magically modified arms and vehicles of British origin that enhance our capabilities.
"The Royal Navy consists of sixteen ships which have been modified from the original British pattern to use magic for propulsion, steering, ammunition handling, weapons, protection, navigation, and communication," the duke continued. "From the outside, the vessels retain the appearance of the British ships they're based on. Our ships are HMS Avalon, an Audacious-class aircraft carrier; HMS King Arthur, a Lion-class battleship; HMS Camelot, a York-class heavy cruiser; HMS Dragon, a Tiger-class light cruiser; eight Daring-class destroyers: HMS Brittia, HMS Celliwig, HMS Sarras, HMS Annwn, HMS Exeter, HMS Cameliard, HMS Potter, and HMS Glastonbury; HMS Galahad, an Algerine-class minesweeper; HMS Daring, a Fearless-class landing platform dock; and two River-class patrol craft: HMS Twe, and HMS Dye. All but HMS Twe and HMS Dye are in magical stasis pending recall to active service, though HMS Avalon is activated one week a year to provide carrier flight training to members of the RAF. We don't have a Fleet Air Arm, all military aircraft are operated by the RAF. The main Navy base is HMNB Kettleburn on Kettleburn Island. The ships in stasis are docked there and much of the training takes place there. HMNB Port Arthur is the other Navy base. HMS Twe and HMS Dye operate out of there. At full strength, the Royal Navy consists of nine thousand sailors.
"At full strength the RAF consists of three groups, numbered one through three," the duke told him. "1 Group is based out of RAF Camelot and is our air combat group. 2 Group is based out of RAF Port Arthur and is our combat support group. 3 Group is based out of RAF Otterthorpe and is our training and support group. RAF Nanstow is maintained as an auxiliary base. At full strength, the RAF consists of thirteen and a half thousand personnel and two hundred eighty-six aircraft. We operate magically modified versions of the Panavia Tornado, McDonnell Douglas Phantom, SEPECAT Jaguar, Blackburn Buccaneer, English Electric Canberra, Boeing Sentry, Hawker Dominie, Lockheed Hercules, McDonnell Douglas Globemaster, Fairey Gannet, Westland Sea King, McDonnell Douglas Apache, Westland Lynx, Boeing Chinook, Scottish Aviation Bulldog, BAe Hawk, Handley Page Jetstream, and Westland Gazelle.
"To help control the three branches, there are ten directorates," the duke explained. "They are Aviation, the Adjutant-General, Engineers, Finance, the Judge Advocate-General, Military Intelligence, Military Operation, Ordnance, the Quartermaster-General, and Ships. With the exception of Military Intelligence these are the office workers who make sure the military runs smoothly. They're mostly based here in the castle. MI runs intelligence and counter-intelligence operations world-wide, keeping us informed of what's going on. They cooperate closely with the Foreign Office.
"Speaking of foreign operations," the duke segued neatly, "Avalon is closely allied with, though not subordinate to, Great Britain. In 1800, 1914 and 1939, Avalon sent regiments for service in the British Army. These regiments' origins were hidden by assigning them as battalions to existing British regiments. Navy units were also dispatched in all cases, usually operating under their actual names. It's fairly easy to hide the identity of a ship when it bears the title HMS in a fleet of other ships also bearing that title. In 1939, RAF squadrons were also sent, serving abroad for the duration of World War II. Five thousand three hundred seventy-one Avalonians have died in war since 830 AD. The Great War was the hardest, with over three thousand dead.
"We've also seen fit to modify the wards in wartime to allow British access to Avalon," the duke revealed. "In 1914, Avalon leased Kettleburn Island, in the south, to the British Royal Navy, which established small destroyer and seaplane base there. When World War I ended, the base was transferred to our Navy. In 1939, Avalon leased land on Avalon proper for a British RAF base—now RAF Nanstow. The British RAF operated fighters, bombers, and maritime patrol craft out of RAF Nanstow until the end of the war. With the onset of the Cold War, the British RAF again saw use for the base, returning in 1962 with the advent of the Cuban Missile Crisis. The British RAF finally quit the field for good in 1975, turning it over to us."
"When you say magically modified, what do you mean?" Harry asked, going back to an earlier topic.
"We add rune sets to various pieces of equipment," the duke replied. "Things like space expansion runes, magically powered engines, magical reinforcement, magical adhesion, magical heating or cooling, notice-me-not runes, featherweight runes, and silencing runes to name a few. For instance, a rifle magazine might be magically expanded and lightened so that it can hold five hundred rounds instead of thirty. A tank might be able to fire its cannon twice as far as a normal cannon, hold a hundred times as much ammo, drive twice as fast, identify targets more easily, and be better camouflaged than normal tanks, as well as never having to refuel, never throwing track, being virtually impenetrable to enemy fire, and emitting no engine noise. Artillery can reach twice as far and be more destructive. Aeroplanes can fly faster, be more manoeuvrable, carry more ammunition... Need I go on?"
"No, you've made your point," Harry agreed. "How do they fare against magicals?"
"We've never been to war with magicals," the duke allowed. "Every magical member of the armed forces carries their wand if they have one, and are taught to use them as backup weapons. We've practised casting shields, and discovered that while it helps against most spells, it doesn't work well against bullets and shells. Magicals aren't fast enough to outcast a bullet, and our bullets have runes in them making them impossible to deflect or otherwise affect magically. Even if they get a shield up, most shields won't stop physical objects. Those that do use more magical power than those that don't, and repeatedly striking such a shield wears down the caster at a ridiculous rate. Concentrated fire can usually crack a shield in moments. Shells and bombs will overpower such a shield immediately. Furthermore, our rifles and other personal equipment have runesets making them impossible to be summoned using magic. We also practice tactical apparition and portkeying, in case we get into a magical war. We don't have a strategic portkey capability, as we can't portkey through the wards of Avalon, however, we can shrink most of our equipment down small enough to load it all on one ship or several aircraft.
"So we have a nearly invincible military force?" Harry asked.
"Oh, no," the duke replied. "While it would be capable of taking on a force ten times its size in the muggle world, or two or three times its size in the magical world, it's not invincible. They can still die. They're still affected by gas, biological, or nuclear weapons. We still have to supply them and maintain their weapons. We've made it easier, but in war nothing is certain."
"Nothing is certain?" Harry pressed.
"Nothing is certain in war. The great German strategist Helmut von Moltke said no plan survives contact with the enemy. For that reason, soldiers like to ensure the deck is stacked in their favour before they even begin," the duke instructed. "It helps to ensure success. The American Army doctrine says that a force needs to outnumber the enemy three to one if they want to be successful in an attack."
"So how do you stack the deck?" Harry asked.
"The first step is knowing everything you can about the enemy and his dispositions, and restricting his knowledge of you and yours," the duke explained. "Second, like the Americans say, bring overwhelming force to bear on the point you decide: more and better manpower and equipment. Third, if possible, strike where the enemy doesn't expect. Have you heard the term 'fair fight'?"
"Yes," Harry nodded.
"Soldiers try to never have a fair fight," the duke said bluntly. "If soldiers become engaged in a fair fight they've done something wrong. If we've done it right, the enemy will be dead before they know we're there. If we've done it mostly right, they'll feel us come down on them like the fist of an angry god before they either run or die."
"Wow," Harry sighed. "That sounds completely different from what I've heard in the past."
"Oh? What's that, sir?" the duke asked.
"Professor Dumbledore would say that we must use as little force as necessary, so that we can reform the enemy once it's all over," Harry said. "He disapproves of lethal spells, and always uses stunners."
"I know about Albus Dumbledore," the duke revealed. "The man is not a soldier. He's not even a police officer. He's a teacher and a politician. While a police officer might use non-lethal force to subdue a criminal, what has exploded into public in Britain isn't crime, it's a war, even if Dumbledore doesn't see it. In war, you shoot to kill. Whoever survives can be rehabilitated after the war is over. The American General George Patton famously said, 'No bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making some other poor dumb bastard die for his country.' Fortunately, we don't have to worry about Britain."
"Why not?" Harry asked. "Shouldn't we try to help them?"
"Avalon's policy is that it doesn't get involved in the internal affairs of other nations," the duke said. "It's why we didn't send troops to fight in Ireland in 1688, or in Scotland in 1745, or in America in 1775, or in South Africa in 1899, or in India or China ever. We do not assist or hinder Britain's civil wars or rebellions. We learnt that lesson the hard way."
"How so?" Harry asked.
"In 1642 the King sent troops to help King Charles," the duke explained. "When the Royalists lost, Cromwell cut off contact and nearly revealed the secret of Avalon to the British magicals. Our activities in Britain had to be severely curtailed, and our economy was depressed for quite some time afterwards. It was only when Charles' son retook the throne that we got any measure of trade back with Britain."
"Thank you for telling me," Harry said, still thoughtful.
"It's my job to ensure you're properly informed about military matters, including policy," the duke shrugged. "I wouldn't be doing my job otherwise."
"Do you have any requests of me at this time?" Harry asked.
"None spring to mind, sir," the duke replied.
"Alright," Harry allowed. "I won't keep you, then." He stood, and the duke followed suit. Another handshake and he was gone. "Is that all?" Harry asked Tom.
"You are done with your formal meetings for the day," Tom replied. "However, my father requested some time with you. He suggested meeting in the garden."
"My head just feels crammed full of knowledge," Harry complained. "I don't know how much more I can take today."
"This should be more of a… discussion, than a lesson," Tom consoled. "He should be waiting for you at the fountain."
Harry left his office, and followed the halls to the main entrance. Breaking into the sunshine, he spotted Charlus sitting peacefully on the edge of the fountain, absent-mindedly playing in the fountain with one hand.
"You wanted to see me?" Harry asked, approaching.
"I thought you might want to talk about the future," Charlus replied with a smile. "Though it would involve delving into the past a bit."
"I suppose," Harry shrugged.
"You are familiar with Albus Dumbledore," Charlus said. Harry nodded. "In the spring of 1980 there was a prophecy given which I believe you're familiar with." Again, Harry nodded. "Excellent. That prophecy led Albus to believe that you must sacrifice yourself in order for Voldemort to be defeated." Harry's eyes widened. "To ensure that outcome was possible, he took several steps. First, he hid your parents to keep you safe. When that didn't work, he manipulated the Ministry into giving him guardianship of you, and he hid you from the public under, shall we say, less than legal wards. Part of that was allowing Sirius Black to take the fall for your parents' deaths.
"The next phase of his operation was convincing a family to assist him in shaping you once he could no longer sequester you from the public," Charlus continued. "To this end, he enlisted the Weasley family. Molly Weasley was fairly easy to manipulate, as she was already a devoted follower. He simply promised that you would wed the Weasley daughter when you both came of age, thus providing for at least a portion of the Weasley family in perpetuity. This was to be accomplished through the administration of love potions over the next two years."
"That sounds illegal. He was going to allow that?" Harry gasped.
"It is, and it was his idea," Charlus revealed. "In fact, it took some convincing from both Albus and Molly for Miss Weasley to agree to go along with the plan. Molly had to reveal to her that she had used a love potion to snare Arthur, and she played it off as something 'normal' witches do. In furtherance of their goals, your first meeting at King's Cross was planned. Molly knew exactly where she was going, but she still said 'muggles' and wondered where Platform 9¾ was out loud, so you'd hear. It was suggested to Ron that he become your friend."
"Do he and Ginny know about the plan?" Harry asked, eyes narrowing.
"Not as such," Charlus replied. "From what we know, Molly suggested that Ron should be your friend, and daydreamed in Ginny's presence that Ginny would marry you, thus allowing her to begin to conceive of such a thing, but not how or why those things should be accomplished. Albus also has spoken to Ron several times about 'protecting' you from others who might be 'bad influences'. When he saw that you'd become friends, he called Ron to his office for the first of many talks about that. It was one reason Ron treated Miss Granger so poorly your first year. He was trying to keep her away from you. It's also why you never developed friendships with others outside your house."
"Does Hermione know?" Harry asked.
"No," Charlus said. "Miss Granger was eventually deemed acceptable by Albus, as she had poor social skills, and lacks basic knowledge of the magical world as a muggleborn. She would be as handicapped as you."
"But I made friends with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood," Harry protested.
"Mr. Longbottom has been threatened privately by Ron on several occasions," Charlus said. "Miss Lovegood has been a friend of Miss Weasley since infancy, and Miss Weasley reported she's mentally unstable. They also both happen to be socially isolated and vulnerable. By pairing you with awkward, unpopular students, Albus hoped that the treatment you received from your mother's relatives would continue at school, and this has been born out, although he did help it along more than a bit."
"How'd he do that?" Harry wanted to know.
"Besides Ron's assiduous monopolization of your time which caused you to be seen as aloof, Albus anonymously authored some well-timed pieces in the Daily Prophet which painted you in a bad light, in order to reduce your popularity," Charlus said. "He also placed minor compulsion charms around the entrances to the other houses causing them to dislike you. He felt if you were depressed, you'd be more willing to sacrifice yourself."
"That's insane," Harry goggled. "I'd be more likely to off myself, but I wouldn't give a fig about the rest of them. What a nutter."
"Quite," Charlus chuckled. "To further his goal, he would test you. In 1991 he lured Voldemort to Hogwarts using the Philosopher's Stone to test some theories he had about why you both cheated death. In 1992, he knew there was a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, but didn't tell you. You proved to him the next spring that you were willing to sacrifice yourself for the good of others when you entered the Chamber in pursuit of Miss Weasley. He sent Fawkes after you. In 1993, he carefully orchestrated the entire search for Sirius Black so that not only were the dementors at Hogwarts, but that you had a time turner available to fix any mistakes you made. In 1994 Albus could've easily gotten you out of the Triwizard Tournament using his status as your magical guardian, however he did not, preferring to goad you into once again placing your life in danger for the sacrifice of others. He also knew that Mr. Crouch was impersonating Mr. Moody, but did nothing. This past year he continued to manipulate events to suit his fancy. The resurrection of Voldemort backfired when Minister Fudge refused to believe him, so he orchestrated the scheme to get Voldemort to go to the Ministry and battle Albus in the open, both demonstrating that Voldemort was back, and that Albus was the only one capable of dealing with him."
"Why would he do all that?" Harry asked.
"Albus very much needs to be in charge," Charlus responded. "When Voldemort was defeated but did not die in 1981, he was thrown for a loop. He was reckoning on having at least ten more years of war to use to enact his plans."
"What plans?" Harry asked.
"From hints he's dropped, we've been able to piece together some idea, but we're not sure," Charlus said. "The Wizengamot is a pseudo-representative body, neither completely democratic in nature, nor purely oligarchical. Albus is a bit of an odd duck. He holds to many of the old ways, but is excited that new people are being brought into the magical fold as it were. It would seem that he would prefer that the Wizengamot become a smaller appointed body that unifies with the Minister's position to form a true oligarchy: a small group of light-sided purebloods in control, due to their wisdom and unified beliefs, preferably with Albus as a first among equals. This would have the effect of continuing what he sees as the better traditions of Magical Britain, while at the same time ending the darker traditions."
"That's ridiculous," Harry observed. "I mean, nobody runs a government like that these days."
"He's too old and too 'light' to wish for a dictatorship," Charlus said. "Britain already has a monarch, and he's not noble, so he can't have himself declared king, besides he has no children to succeed him. The oligarchy fits with his love of knowledge and his ability to turn people to his way of thinking, as he did with your parents. Unfortunately, that success is also part of his downfall."
"How so?" Harry asked.
"He has come to believe his own press, as it were," Charlus replied with a snort. "He understands that he has the ability to convince allies and light-sided neutrals to see his point of view, and foolishly believes that that ability carries over to all, or at least most, grey and dark magicals. It's why he's developed his current strategy. Namely: sacrifice a few allies, in an attempt to convert all the grey and dark families into light-side allies. The problem with his strategy is two-fold. One, he doesn't give his sacrificial lambs agency by providing them the information they need to make fully informed decisions, and two, his powers of persuasion won't work on most grey and dark families as they're too set in their ways."
"What's the proper strategy?" Harry asked, wondering what his great uncle thought.
"If it were me," Charlus began. "I'd protect my allies and sacrifice the dark families. With the dark families gone and a sizeable number of light-sided allies, the grey families would be easier to convince to follow his vision."
"That's pretty much what the Duke of Avalon said," Harry revealed.
"One of your duties as King is to make decisions effecting the lives of others," Charlus said. "When in doubt, always try to keep your people alive. If that means your enemies are dead, so be it. Good people deserve to be able to celebrate life now, not only once they've passed on. Bad people shouldn't be given the chance to enjoy life now on the off chance they'll be punished in the afterlife. Don't worry about your enemies souls. They've made their beds. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Harry nodded.
"Good," Charlus said. "Now, let's talk about your future…"
xxxxxxx
scene break
xxxxxxx
It was after dark when Hestia finally left the Granger residence and she had a predatory smile on her face. Hermione had gone from uncomprehensive to pale to bloody furious over the course of about fifteen minutes, but had finally settled to a simmer of hatred, mostly focused on Albus Dumbledore, but with a healthy batch of anger remaining for a certain three Weasleys. It was that state that her parents discovered her in upon their arrival home, which necessitated another round of explanations. Hermione was planning a visit to Diagon Alley for the next day to obtain reference material relating to foreign schools.
The upshot was that the Granger parents were on board, and Hermione had already written a letter to Madam Maxime asking about the possibility of moving her studies to Beauxbatons, and was planning on composing another letter to Ilvermorny, but had no idea whom to address it to. She'd already discarded the idea of attending Durmstrang, as, while she did speak French, she didn't speak any other languages. It was for that same reason that she'd discounted Castelobruxo in Brazil, Koldovstoretz in Russia, and Mahoutokoro in Japan. Aside from posting her letter to Beauxbatons, and researching the head of Ilvermorny, she'd attempt to find out if Uagadou taught in English or French, or whether they used another language. She was thinking they probably instructed in English, as the school was located in Uganda, but she couldn't be certain.
As she waved goodbye to the Grangers, Hestia smiled thinking that another of Albus' plans had already begun to unravel. She'd visit Long Hall tomorrow, and try to gauge where Mr. Longbottom was… if she could manage to get him out from under his grandmother's thumb, that is.
She popped back to the flat that MI6 rented for her and Megan in East Sheen.
"How'd it go?" Megan asked from her spot in front of the telly. Take away cartons were in front of her. After visiting her parents in Port Arthur, she'd flown back to maintain her cover.
"You might not have to go back to Hogwarts next year," Hestia informed her.
"That good, huh?" Megan smirked.
"Your sister's apparently Irish, as I seem to have inherited the gift of gab," Hestia replied. "If I do as well at the Longbottom's tomorrow, we should have nothing to worry about."
"Finally," Megan sighed. "The summer catch up's been hell. Why can't Hogwarts teach everything?"
"'Cause they don't care about innovation or muggle tech," Hestia replied. "They're satisfied living in the dark ages."
"You'd think they'd step outside and see what the muggles've done, and say, 'that's a bloody good idea!'" Megan groused. "But no, they've got their heads so far up their arses…"
"Megan!" Hestia scolded. Then she changed track. "So, what'd you get me for dinner?"
"Chinese," was the expected reply. Hestia smiled as she fell onto the couch. Life was pretty good.