Eyes and Seers

The following morning Harry once more woke early. Scarcely had he risen from the covers than Sable was at his side and laying out the day's robes. Harry breathed a sigh of quiet relief to see her clothed – he still couldn't get used to her habit of warming his bed of an evening, and he was not at all sure how to react if she started waking him undressed. Still in somewhat of a doze, he did not notice that Sable was helping him into his robes.

Hermione also rose relatively early, greeting Harry as she walked out of her bedroom into the Lord's lounge. In reply he gestured to the table.

"Letter for you, Hermione," he told her, his eyes distant.

"It is addressed to 'Lord Caer Azkaban', master,"

"The other one isn't," Harry sighed, "Though you might as well read both, mine is about you anyway."

"Dumbledore," Hermione muttered bitterly, "Telling me you vanished and begging me to tell him where you are the moment you make contact. Also warning me not to mention that I'm telling him anything and to do everything in my power to persuade you to return to Private Drive."

"Well that last one ain't happening." Harry snorted.

"I think that may be the only one that does, master." Hermione replied with a slight smile, "Since I lack the power to sway you, 'everything in my power' is nothing at all. Do you wish me to reply, master?"

"Didn't he mention your leaving letter?"

"No master. He should have gotten it by now..."

"It seems that he isn't taking you seriously enough," Harry smiled, "So by all means, ignore him. What's done is done, no need to labour the point. Any luck with the translator?"

"Aldous has a translation kit that he is willing to let me borrow." Hermione replied, "It works better for the one it is attuned to, which can only ever be one, but it helps. He also recommended that I get a pair of subtitle spectacles from the Island Jeweller."

"Did he explain what 'subtitle spectacles' are?" Harry inquired, "And why does the kit not come with one?"

"The kit does have one master," Hermione replied, "But it is attuned to your librarian. The kit is large enough that getting a new one would be prohibitively expensive, but the spectacles are a good starting point for a researcher. They provide a loose translation of the text in the form of subtitles on the glasses themselves. Not especially accurate, but a useful starting point such as you suggested master."

"Schedule an appointment with the Jeweller," Harry asked Sable, "I need to talk to him about these rings, anyway. Also, see if you can find out what it would take to get a full translation kit."

"Master!" Hermione bowed as she squeaked, "It fits into a desk!"

"See if any of it can be made here, at the very least," Harry continued, "Perhaps we can add one to my private library."

"I will see what can be done, Harry." Sable relied with a bow.

"With that excitement out of the way," Harry added, "Let's get breakfast."

. . .

After a brief encounter with the council, who advised him that all remained well on Azkaban, Harry found himself standing in front of the Jeweller's shop. Like most of the buildings in the town of Caer Azkaban, it had been constructed in the style of a Tudor shell, albeit with a little more stone than had been common in those days. The glass-fronted shop displayed the owner's wares under lock and key, making the sign over the door quite superfluous.

"All hail the Lord Caer Azkaban!" the Jeweller stuttered after conquering her shock, "Long may he rule!"

"Guild Master Isabella, I presume?" Harry asked, having been briefed during the ride.

"At your service, my Lord!" she replied, "Do you require any particular gem?"

"I am told that you are the best person to ask for subtitle spectacles," Harry explained, "I also have a ring I would like you to look at."

"Of course, my Lord." she straitened with pride, "I can supply lenses and spectacles of all types – do you require glasses?"

"I do, but the translator is for my researcher," Harry indicated Hermione behind him, "My glasses I need to correct my eyesight."

"Might I see your glasses, my Lord?"

Harry handed his glasses to Isabella, who examined them briefly with a look of distaste before returning them. She shook her head sadly before explaining her opinion.

"I can do you much better than that, my Lord. I can offer self-correcting lenses that will always provide the correct strength, for a start, and far more durable ones at that. There are a number of visual enhancements that I can apply as well, and I can make the enhancements variable, if you wish."

"How so?" Harry asked, curious.

"You would be able to switch them on and off, my Lord, and some could be switched to controlled settings as well." she explained, "Adding any number of enhancements would merely be a matter of time… if I might make a suggestion?"

"Of course,"

"I could provide you with a pair of Permanent Contacts."

"What would they be?" Harry smiled, trying to put the woman at ease.

"Diamond contact lenses, charmed to be as durable as I can make them," she elaborated, "A permanent sticking charm will effectively make it a physical part of your eye indefinitely, and I can still add the other magics on top of that. All it takes is time."

"And time is money," Harry agreed, "Do it, but please make the enchantments controllable. It would be nice to be able to see the difference some times.

"I would be honoured, my Lord."

"Hermione? Show Isabella the rings you found." he turned back to Isabella to explain, "I believe that a variant of these could improve communications here on the island."

"Ah, telepathic conduit." Isabella enthused over Hermione's ring, "A particularly fine example. There are many variants on this spell, my Lord, but they regrettably tend to have a common weakness – everyone is involved in the conversation. If used with a group, the thoughts quickly get confused, and in most cases the users go mad."

"Would it be possible to adapt a switchboard design?" Hermione asked, "Or maybe a client-server system?"

"What?" Isabella blinked in confusion at Hermione's arcane expressions.

"Make the group link more stable by linking through a common point." Hermione suggested, "At a crude level, one master ring could be linked to several slave rings. When the wearer of the Master ring thinks aloud, all the others hear the thought, but the reverse would not hold true."

"That would allow commanders to efficiently communicate with their subordinates," Harry realised, "And to get reports when needed without everyone hearing every report. If you deploy rings based on the chain of command you shouldn't get to much interference..."

"If the master could focus on an incoming connection, that would be better," Hermione agreed, "But establishing a full switchboard would be a far more complex undertaking."

"The first two, I can do," Isabella agreed, "It will take me quite some time, but I can definitely do it. As for the rest… give me time. Perhaps I'll think of something."

"If you need help, I can arrange it." Harry assured her, "Take the time to be thorough."

"Always my Lord." she replied, "And if you could put me in touch with the enchanter who worked on these rings I will be forever in your debt."

"Worried we might need too many?" Harry inquired with a light laugh.

"As I said, it is a particularly fine example of this type of spell." she demurred, "I'd rather modify a good base spell."

"Sable, see it done."

"As you command, my Lord."

"How soon can you have the subtitle spectacles for Hermione?" he pressed

"I'll have a pair ready for fitting tomorrow morning." the Jeweller promised to Hermione's delight.

Good," Harry smiled to see her happy, "Good luck on your endeavours, and let me know if you need anything."

"My Lord is as generous as he is wise." Isabella bowed deeply to him.

I'm not so sure about that, Harry thought to himself as they left the Jeweller's shop.

. . .

Back at the castle, Sable informed him that the Master Armourer was waiting to introduce him to his private training room, so they went there. Hermione was reluctant, but Harry reminded her that life around him was dangerous and that she was going to need to fight sooner or later. He then added that a basic practical grounding would make her academic studies much easier, by which time they had arrived and it was too late for her to duck out.

"My Lord Azkaban," the man went down on one knee as Harry entered the room, "May I be the first to introduce you to your private training hall?"

"It would seem that you are," Harry replied, "I assume that you can show me it's functions?"

"Indeed, my Lord." he rose and indicated several dummies that where standing to attention, "These golems will run through the standard forms if you place an appropriate weapon in their hands. The others are sparring golems of escalating skill. The first will keep to the prescribed forms as a standard opponent – it helps to have an opponent you can see, my Lord. The remainder are lined up in order of escalating difficulty. As soon as you can readily best one, move on to the next in line."

"What about protection?" Harry asked, eyeing the inanimate statues.

"I have modified some training robes to your size, my Lord, and those of your assistants." he replied, indicating a cupboard to one side of the room, "Troll leather chest plate and self-stitching silk. There are charms to dampen the impacts, but not so you won't feel them."

"Pain is the best teacher." Harry quoted.

"A good teacher, my Lord." he bowed, "but not without equal; and I find experience to be the best teacher."

"Hence the golems."

"Live sparring partners are superior, my Lord" he opined, "But the golems should suffice. Would you like me to demonstrate and explain the forms?"

"Please do," Harry nodded, "And where you able to acquire a second set for Hermione?"

"Beside the robes in the cupboard, my Lord."

"Will you join us, Sable"

"My Lord, I have no place wielding a noble weapon." she insisted, "And I have already studied the basics of the singlestick."

"Then would you be able to identify other potential tutors amongst my staff?" he asked.

"I assure you, my Lord, I am quite capable." the armourer nervously interjected.

"I am sure that you are," Harry replied with a nod, "But I am going to need to learn more than hand to hand combat. I need tutors in other things, and it may be best if I did not have to summon them from beyond the Island."

"What did you wish to study, my Lord?" Sable inquired.

"Many things." Harry replied, "Currently there is an ongoing war that needs resolving, and we had to cut our formal magical education short as a result. Find out what people have to teach, and we can try filling in the gaps later."

"As you wish, my Lord." Sable retreated to the doorway, eyes on her book.

"I would like to begin with the dagger, my Lord." the Armourer began, "It is a poor choice for a main weapon, but will not obstruct your wand as many other weapons would..."

. . .

"You have a good stance, my Lord." Azkaban's Master Armourer admitted a few hours later, "And you appear to have excellent reflexes also. Let the magic guide the blade and you won't go far wrong."

"Thank you," Harry nodded his appreciation, "Sable, I think I would like to take an hour here each day, if I could."

"You may do as you wish, my Lord." she reminded him.

"So bear that in mind when you are considering my schedule," Harry gently corrected her, "For the next few months, at least. After I grow more comfortable with my weapons perhaps I can move my focus to other skills."

"It may take more than a few months to master your chosen weapon, my Lord." his Master Armourer advised.

"Of that I have no doubt," Harry agreed, "But I should be good enough that I won't grow rusty from skipping an occasional session."

"An excellent point my Lord," he bowed, "My apologies."

"My Lord," Sable gave a slight bow of her own, "Your luncheon is ready if you would care to dine..."

"What have we scheduled after that?"

"The castle seer has requested to see you, my Lord." Sable frowned, "There is nothing else in your schedule for today."

"See if you can arrange a visit with a spell breaker of some sort, then." Harry requested, "I want to get the ministry trackers off of myself and Hermione if at all possible.

"What trackers?" Sable asked sharply.

"The ones used by the ministry to track underage magic use," Hermione answered, still breathing a little heavily after her workout.

"As Lord of Azkaban you are not subject to the underage restriction," Sable announced, "And the wards of the Island block the ministry from receiving any detections from the Trace."

"Good." Harry smiled, "What of Hermione?"

"The ministry's authority on this matter does not cover Azkaban, hence the wards, though I am unsure how she would be affected if caught casting in mainland Britain." she admitted, "The wards however, cover the Island. They are not specific to your Lordship."

"Schedule an appointment anyway." Harry decided, "We will probably need to leave the Island at some point, and I would like to check for any other unexpected spells."

"Very good, my Lord." Sable agreed, "I will find our spell-breaking expert for you."

"Thank you, Sable. What's for lunch?"

"The kitchens have prepared a selection of meat sandwiches with murtlap pickle." Sable replied after checking her book, "If you would prefer something else..."

"That would be fine, Sable." Harry assured her as they left the room.

. . .

"My Lord! Hail all Azkaban! May he rule long!"

Harry did a double take upon entering the Seer's lair. The walls were covered with the weird and wonderful, as was the floor and even the Seer himself. He wore a sombrero from which hung an assortment of radishes and used corks, a garland of some unidentified vegetation around his neck, and a dozen tiny trinkets hung from the chain that dangled from a wrist. His eyes were hidden behind red and blue lenses, and his gait seemed to shift from drunk to sober and back again every few seconds.

Of course, it was the mangling of the greeting Harry had gotten so used to hearing that first drew his attention. He had not noticed how familiar the phrase was becoming to him until someone misspoke it.

"You wished to see me?" Harry asked, collecting his thoughts after a brief pause.

"My Lord sees right. It is true that I do!" the Seer proudly proclaimed on bended knee, "My age is catching me and death is chasing me, new times are coming round the bend! I will soon pass and leave no mark, no mark save one who in my shoe steps harks!"

"Are you asking about the possibility of a successor?" Harry asked after pondering the seer's phrase for a few moments.

"Glory be; a Lord who sees?" the Seer gasped in shock, "All hail he, all hail he!"

"Who should your successor be?" Harry pressed with a gentle voice, trying to focus the man's scattered thoughts, "Or how shall he be known to me?"

"Not he is she who succeeds me," the seer insisted, "But loopy Looney known to thee."

. . .