"Welcome honoured one," a woman bowed her head. Harry returned the gesture. "I am Principal Chief Mankiller. Come, there are many eager to meet you."
"I thank you for your hospitality. I must admit my curiosity, Chief Mankiller. Does your tribe still follow the old ways of matrifocal society?" Harry inquired. The woman seemed surprised, though not displeased.
"You are well read. Honoured one. Indeed, while our muggle counterparts may have forsaken it, we follow the old ways. However, we recognise that the outside world is far different from our own."
"A good philosophy to have, Chief Mankiller. I rather feel society would be better for it if people live and let live," Harry chuckled. "I rather find that if everyone has their place in life, that society would be more harmonious."
"A strange philosophy for an outsider," the chief mused thoughtfully. "Ah, here we are. Behold, the council chamber."
As she held open a branch, the leaves parted, revealing a large tipi with paintings of large prayer ceremonies. Seeing his interest, the chief explained, "These depict the Pidgeon Dance of our ancestors. We offer sacrifice to the sacred flames in hope for warmth and security."
"Ah, but we are on the first day of the Green Corn Festival, are we not? I believe you have a feast of the remains of last year's harvest?"
"You really are well read, honoured one," the chief mused thoughtfully. Several tribe members eyed them curiously, though none approached as they entered the largest tipi, undoubtedly the tent of the chief where important gatherings were held.
Inside, there sat five women, all in the traditional dress of the tribe. All stood up and ducked their heads, breathing out greetings of respect to their chief. Mankiller returned the greeting, and ushered Harry to a seat beside her, at which point all seven sat down in unison.
"Sisters, today we are joined by the honoured one, who wishes to understand more of our culture. Honoured one, today I have gathered the leading rune experts in our tribe. We will seek to answer any questions you have."
"Thank you for this honour, chieftain. I would not wish to presume knowledge in anything that is solely derived from second hand accounts. Whatever you are willing to teach, I am willing to learn," Harry deferred. He would have much preferred to ask questions directly, yet more than any betterment of his runic knowledge, he knew tempering his academic curiosity in favour of deference would earn him a degree of respect and acknowledgement from the tribe that could enable future cooperation.
The six women eyed each other, in some sort of silent conversation, before the shortest individual spoke up. "You are truly wise beyond your years. Let us start from the beginning then. Our runes are mostly principled on what we see in nature. Each rune has an origin, a purpose and a significance."
She pulled out a scroll and unfurled it, pointing to a large blossoming flower. "This is unitsilvsgi, a blooming flower. It is the final rune in most sequences. And this one is unitagi, or seed, the beginning of many of our runic sequences. Of course, you should have heard of our use of the elemental magics. Let me introduce them to you."
"Agasa, meaning rain, Alagalisgv, meaning lightning, Atsila, meaning fire, Tsayi, meaning metal, Elohi, meaning earth," she introduced each one, pointing to one of the five runes on the scroll. Harry nodded, showing his understanding. "The five elements we observe, each has a place and a time. Today, in the festival, we celebrate earth. Come, I shall show you the runes."
The woman stood up, grabbing his hand and leading him through a small patch of forest along a dirt trail until they arrived at a large, square clearing, where there was a stack of wood in the middle and lots of carvings in the dirt surrounding it. "Behold, the runes of Selu."
Harry observed the runes closely, eyeing several patches that converted sacrificed material into magical energy. He could definitely see how this turned into a spiritual experience. Continuing his observations, he noticed several subworks that produced warmth, and others which summoned lightning. It was all rather fascinating.
"It is tradition for a guest to add their own set of runes to the fire," she informed him. He nodded in understanding.
"I would be honoured. Would a-"
"Do not tell me what it is. We feel, not know." Harry bowed his head in acquiescence. Following her to an empty patch of dirt. Harry bent down, taking out his ritual knife and beginning to carve the runes for a mild euphoric rune sequence.
Several children gathered round, clearly curious at an outsider working, but were angrily shooed off by the woman. Within several minutes, Harry had finished, and sheathed his knife, returning to the woman's side.
"Very good, let us return to the others," she instructed, leading him back to the tipi, where they sat down once again. The six natives had a quick conversation incomprehensible to him, so he merely waited with a bated smile.
"Very good, I must depart to oversee the preparations for tonight's festival. Sister Oowatie shall remain with you for the rest of your stay."
"Yes chieftain," the girl in question inclined her head as the Mankiller departed with the four other ladies. One the two were alone she turned to him with a shy smile. "You can tell me more about foreign runes?"
"I can," Harry nodded, moving over until he was sitting next to her. Pulling out a piece of parchment, he began to write out the runic alphabets as she watched enthralled. "There are four relevant schools of runes these days. The Asianic school, the Anglo-Saxon school, the Afro-Middle Eastern ones and your Native American script. Anglo-saxon runes, the ones up here, are the most structured, and most used in much of the world. They offer power second only to the runes of your people, but are relatively inflexible and imprecise."
"Hmm, why are there only marks for the asianic ones?"
"A good observation," he praised. "The Chinese script is focused on flexibility, and have precise runes for every purpose. Similar to our alphabets, these strokes form their characters."
"That seems inordinately difficult," she frowned. He smiled commiseratingly.
"Most runic masters in the Chinese school must have in their memory around fifteen thousand different characters. It is difficult, and thus why many do not learn it," Harry explained. "The African school, if it can be called that, is broken down into many sub-dialects, though in general they are the most similar to your own in their focus for raw power."
"And you know all of this?" Oowatie frowned. "That seems...difficult."
"It takes patience," Harry admitted with a chuckle. "What you need to understand is, fundamentally, Anglo-Saxon runes are designed to be easier to learn. They use a far smaller set of runes more flexibly. How many runes do you know?"
"Roughly seven thousand," she admitted with a blush. He nodded sagely.
"An average runemaster in the anglo-saxon school would need roughly four thousand." He chuckled at her look of disbelief. "How shall I explain...you know how you have a rune for sky, for water and for rain? Well, in the Anglo-saxon school, you would use sky and water together to define rain. Do this over and over, and it means far less runes to learn."
"But...imprecise?"
"Yes, exactly," Harry clapped. "A shortfall of this is that the meaning is imperfect, meaning that the runes are less precise. Thus, this is usually compensated by overcharging them, making them powerful enough to work."
"You teach me Anglo-Saxon?"
"It is the most different to your own. I'm admittedly an expert, so hopefully you'll learn something." She merely beamed at him, and the two continued for their studies well through the afternoon, until the chieftain returned, observing the two with a knowing smile.
"It is time for the ceremony. Come with me," she instructed. The two followed her as they returned to the square clearing, where roughly a thousand had gathered. Many pointed fingers curiously at him, though most were merely curious rather than hostile. Harry was used to being scrutinised, and paid it little attention, following Oowatie to an empty seat as the chieftain moved up to the pile of firewood. "People of the Cherokee, we gather to provide our offering to the gods. What we do not use, must be returned to the Earth, just as we will one day return to the Earth. This is the way."
"This is the way," the people all chanted.
"Asalowil Alagalisgv!" she chanted, raising her hands in the air. Her fists glowed slightly, and suddenly, there was a rumble of thunder before several bolts of lightning struck down on the pit. Excited chatters followed as the fire was lit, and natives began throwing bushels of corn along with pieces of salted meat into the fire.
"Never before five strikes! The year is truly blessed!" Oowatie breathed out in awe. Harry nodded, not really understanding, and more interested in watching the rune sequences light up one by one as more magic was generated from the sacrifices being offered.
As they reached his work, a sudden sense of euphoria flooded around, and Harry had to clamp down on his occlumency to remain unaffected. Around him, most of the natives appeared drunken in their happiness. Several couples began kissing openly, and clothes were already being discarded. Beside him, he eyed Oowatie rubbing her thighs together.
"Go find your family. I will be fine on my own," he offered. She looked at him embarrassedly, but Harry merely smiled. "Go."
"Wado!" she exclaimed before hurrying off. Harry allowed himself to lose her in the crowd, instead merely indulging in the festive atmosphere of the surroundings. Several couples groping each other had to be broken apart by others, no doubt in deference to the abstinence of sex demanded in the festival.
The celebrations continued late into the night, until the runes slowly lost charge as the sacrifices dried up, and their produced magic no longer enough to sustain the runes. The crowd began to disperse, until the clearing was largely empty, and the chieftain was once again by his side.
"I must apologise, outsiders for a night...it just isn't done."
"I perfectly understand, I would hate to impose, chieftain. I thank you and your tribe for your hospitality."
"Let it be known you are, in spirit, one of us. Henceforth, you are known as Raven, wise and humble, with the make of a creator."
"I am honoured. I shall carry this name with pride, sister Mankiller."
"As you should do so," the chieftain nodded approvingly. "Until our paths meet again, Raven."
-Break-
Voldemort left the pensive, as baffled as before as to what sort of magic Grindelwald had employed against her. No magic should have been able to cripple her so easily, for Dumbledore, the man who had taken down the dark lord, had never managed such a feat prior. For all her knowledge in the dark arts, and she knew she was the premier expert at the moment, she had no clue where to even begin.
Eyeing the books on the table, she narrowed her eyes in frustration, causing the books to spontaneously erupt in flames. The blasted texts seemed to know even less than her! The smell of burning pages soon filled the room, causing the dark lady to slowly calm down as she took deep breaths.
The sounds Grindelwald produced...it was inhuman, and clearly not meant to be projected by the human body if the damage to Grindelwald's throat was any indication. Frowning, she returned to her library, filled with hundreds upon hundreds of dark arts tomes. She knew the contents of each by heart, and most were filled with her notes, pushing the boundaries of what had been written. Idly, she considered the possibility: could such magics not be dark?
But while Grindelwald may not have the same reputation as her, Voldemort knew it would be foolish to assume the man was not proficient in the dark arts. He had been expelled from Durmstrang as a sixth year, something she could not claim. And as much as it wounded her pride, she was willing to concede the dark lord had decades on her. But this left her stuck. Having researched the dark lord, she knew he had not taken spell creation in Durmstrang, and while it was possible he pursued the arts independently, she doubted it. Creating spells was such a taxing and difficult process that it took ridiculous effort, skill and luck to achieve but one mediocre spell. That it had taken her prodigious mind six months to alter the lumos spell to produce different colours proved that much.
Frowning, she decided that little would be achieved by remaining in her study. It was obvious that she would not be achieving anything with the resources currently surrounding her, for they merely echoed her own existing knowledge.
It was rare that Voldemort found herself at a complete loss, yet there was little else that could describe her state as she stormed through the manor. Several of her followers quickly darted out of her way as she entered the grand chamber and yelled, "Megalos!"
"M-milady?" the greek man asked nervously. Many others looked terrified despite her attention being not on her. "Fetch me all your tomes on ancient magics."
"Milady, those...are just rumours and specul-" At her deadly gaze, Megalos gulped. "Whi-"
"All of them," she demanded crisply. The man looked to protest, before thinking better of it and swallowing his words. With a stiff nod, she stormed out of the office, heading towards one of the duelling chambers. She needed to vent.
-Break-
"The ICW must declare war on Grindelwald," the Austrian mugwump declared. There were both shouts of approval and rebuttal, which quickly descended into insults. Dumbledore heard a rather creative one from the Vietnamese delegate at the Japanese one regarding the species of the latter's mother.
"Order! Order!" Dumbledore banged his gavel, sighing tiredly as the delegates continued to squabble over the issue. Beside him, the Italian Flavio Riveri snorted annoyed. The man had proved quite the enigma for Dumbledore to work with: clearly sympathetic to the plight of the enclaves of the Balkans, which, if his suspicions were correct, were now under the control of Lady Voldemort. Yet, he was also a firm anti-Grindelwaldian, which had led to the quagmire of ICW resources being focused heavily in the Franco-German regions while continuing to cede ground to the 'safe zone' in the Balkans, a move that had outraged the ministries of the surrounding nations. "We will have order!"
Only after several minutes did the chamber quieten down, though the tension was clearly palpable in the chamber as lines were drawn between the various delegates. "Thank you. Now, since it is clear that there are large differences, we will split the debate for the crisis in Europe to two separate discussions: on Grindelwald's activities in the Franco-German region and on the increasing militarisation of the Balkan region. We will begin with the former issue. Mugwump Moraliez, you have the floor."
"Thank you, supreme mugwump. It is clear to me that this body needs to crack down on the movements of Grindelwald. His war nearly led to the collapse of the continent, and already destruction is being wrought. Every day we stall he continues to gather strength. Two war mages and three deputies have been killed, most likely by the dark lord. The ICW Is losing credibility!"
"And what would you have us do? Conjure up a magical army?" the MACUSA mugwump snorted loudly. Immediately the chamber fell into disorder again as insults were hurled freely. Dumbledore sighed tiredly as he banged his gavel to little effect.
-Break-
"Welcome to Ilvermony, mister White," headmistress Fontaine greeted with a wide smile. Harry took her hand and kissed it.
"Thank you for the invitation, headmistress. I could hardly turn down an offer to visit such a historic institution," he chuckled. "May I introduce my good friend, Sarah Sitara, from who I have extracted a promise not to get into too much mischief while she is here."
"A pleasure," Sarah curtsied after smacking Harry on the shoulder. Fontaine merely looked amused at the interaction between the two, which was very much why they had done so in the first place.
"I'm glad, merlin knows that the pukwudgie cause enough mayhem already," the headmistress shook her head exasperatedly. "Anyways, these are the grounds. Ilvermorny grounds are one of the most beautiful preserves for magic, spanning a hundred thousand acres. You'll find a host of magical species here, including the rather docile American Coldclaw and Canadian Bluebreath. They're rather friendly so long as they're full, and some of our older students enjoy playing with them. Of course, we also have large amounts of smaller animals, perhaps most famously in our arctic campus, there are magical penguins."
"Really?" Sarah exclaimed incredulously. "Can we see one?"
"I don't see why not," the headmistress smiled at Sarah's spirit. Together, they continued through the cobble path through the vast fields until they reached one of the several large but low lying buildings, no more than three stories high.
"As you can see, thanks to the large space we have, the campus has evolved into a sprawl. Because we have such a large population to draw from, third only to the Chinese and the Africans, we're able to offer a large variety of specialist courses," she explained as they entered the main building. Several pukwudgies scurried about, dusting and mopping the floor. Spying the three individuals, the creatures waved cheerfully.
"Hello there!"
"I thought pukwudgies were infamous for being grumbly," Harry mused, to which the headmistress merely chuckled.
"They do love to complain when guests are not around," Fontaine sighed, drawing raspberries from the creatures before they hurried away. "But they're loyal and hard working. We pay them in honey, it works out for everyone."
"That's good to hear, ah, is this the famed selection chamber?" Harry inquired, observing the nine guild symbols that circumferenced the chamber. The headmistress nodded.
"It is. The students are drafted by one of the guilds, who are given an opportunity to pick the students in reverse order to last year's score, thus generally ensuring that a weaker house is able to pick stronger candidates for their ranks and vice versa. This also ensures that no single house is able to establish a stigma around themselves, as more than anything, we believe in equity," Fontaine explained. The two nodded to show their understanding as they were led down one of the nine corridors. "Each house has their own wing, which features communal facilities, dormitories, activities rooms etcetera. Given the large size of the student body, it's definitely helped create tight knit relationships that otherwise would have been difficult. Our younger students are given six person dormitories, while our older students enjoy ensuites to allow them to better focus on their studies."
She pushed open the door to one of the dormitories, showing them the inside. Six moderately sized beds were arranged three a side of the rectangular room. "We believe that the dormitories are meant for sleeping, and that activities can take place in other areas, thus making it more spartan than what you are likely expecting."
She led them further down the wing, showing them a small activities room which had several sets of gobstones, a small library which had several copies of standard texts as well as several desks for individuals to study at, a large terrace with several barbecue pits, and an ensuite room.
As they reached the end of the corridor, she opened the door, to reveal that they were now back at the grand chamber. "If you had a bird's eye view, you would see that the main building is like a flower with nine petals. This ensures that students don't have to walk too far to reach any facility."
They exited the main building and wandered back outside, walking by several smaller facilities identified as an astronomy observatory, an administrative building, one of several guest houses, and a library.
They headed into a large wooden building which looked like several cresting waves. Within the building, there were hundreds of seats, and seven serving counters, each labelled for a different type of cuisine. "This is the canteen, where meals are provided twenty four hours a day when students are here. Many students actually participate in the cooking program, where they learn to prepare a variety of dishes, and in many cases, create their own. We used to only have American, British and Italian cuisines, but over time, the influx of immigrants has inevitably led to additions such as German, Japanese, Chinese, Polish cuisine. It's a mark of pride for our school that we're able to cater to all sorts of palettes."
"Why serve twenty four hours though?" Sarah queried.
"Because classes run twenty four hours a day. Because of the large student body, while we have lectures that take place roughly in the afternoon each day, we also have study groups consisting of roughly ten to fifteen individuals with a professor. For older students, these occur at night, while for younger students, these occur in the morning. Thus, facilities are less burdened, though it means that we have to accept different students will have different schedules, now, I believe that we've seen the important bits of the main campus, and I do remember promising the young lady some time in penguins."
They entered small terminal, where the headmistress yanked a lever, causing a refurbished minecart to streak down the rails, stopping in front of them with s screech against the track. As soon as they had sat down, straps wrapped around them and it shot off. Sarah squealed in excitement while Harry merely centered himself, jolting as the cart hurtled to a stop after roughly a minute. "We've reached our arctic facility in northern Canada. I'd recommend some warming charms."
Harry cast it on himself and Sarah as the headmistress did the same for herself, and they disembarked on the station, walking up a set of stairs, to immediately begin to feel the cold. They wandered through the facility, past classrooms and labs, until she unlocked a large vault door with a wave of her wand. Entering the decontamination chamber, they were sprayed with water and several chemicals, before the second door unlocked, and they were entered into the wilderness.
Almost immediately, Sarah squealed excitedly as several penguins began waddling towards them. Harry rolled his eyes as Fontaine merely chuckled. "They're very friendly, you can cuddle them if you want."
"Really?" Sarah asked with wide eyes as the penguin neared and held out its fins. At Fontaine's encouraging nod, she gingerly picked up the penguin and hugged it, causing the animal to let out a satisfied honk. Another penguin approached Harry, and he began to scratch its belly, causing the creature to make satisfied gurgles before it too held out its fins to be picked up. "I want one."
"Alas, that I cannot provide. They're an endangered species, already being extinct in the wild due to global warming and human hunting. All muggle species are only found in the Southern hemisphere," Fontaine sighed, genuine sadness colouring her face. Sarah looked horrified at the notion, clutching the penguin protectively. "You're free to visit this facility any time though. It's actually quite a popular pastime for Asian tourists, though somehow you Europeans haven't caught on."
"I'll have to take you up on that offer," Harry chuckled. "What magical materials do the penguins provide?"
"Is that all you can think about?" Sarah chided. "Cute! Cuddly!"
"They also cheat on their partners, kidnap each others' chicks and some have been observed to prostitute themselves for resources such as stones for nests," Harry responded dryly, causing Sarah to gasp, mortally offended. Fontaine rolled her eyes.
"Their egg shells are extremely useful in certain potions, and their feathers are also used as wand cores among other things," the headmistress answered. "Their excrement, known as guano, or by some students as penguin pops, is also an extremely potent fertiliser, and useful for many species of arctic fauna that are incompatible with dragon dung."
They left the facility, Sarah far more reluctant than the other two, returning on the minecarts back to the main facility. "Well, that's all I have for you two today. If you're free to visit in the future, do let me know."
"I'd love to give some talks to the students in the future, if it's possible," Harry mused. Fontaine looked delighted at the offer.
"I might have to take you up on that," she echoed his statement as they entered her office and she offered them some floo powder. "Our head arithmancy professor, master Graves, attended your lecture. He was most inspired, asking me to make many changes to the curriculum. I've rarely seen someone so inspired, I do wish I had the luxury of attending one of your speeches in the future."
"He is far too kind," Harry chuckled. "I really shouldn't be doing this, but can you pass this to master Graves for me? I'm sure he'll appreciate the token."
"I'll be sure to do so," Fontaine promised, eyeing the calculator curiously. "I confess my ignorance to this device, but I'm sure he'll be able to make good use of it."
"Thank you, headmistress. I do wish the tournament was held here, I feel there's so much potential," Harry sighed. The headmistress' eyes bulged, though Harry merely smiled. "I have my sources, that apparently Hogwarts won the bid, in no small part to the supreme mugwump's...dubious tactics. My friend, Jade, was most displeased."
"You truly are well connected," the headmistress breathed. "Regardless, it was a pleasure, mister White."
"Likewise, headmistress," he bowed while Sarah curtsied. Both threw their powder into the flames, calling out, "The Strip."
-Break-
"Dad! You're home!" Rose squealed at the sight of James lounging on the couch. He leapt up, a grin on his face as he pulled her into a tight hug.
"Yep Rosey. Bones rotated another auror in my place, and it was decided I'm to be granted leave until October, when it's Dawlish's turn to rotate out," James laughed. "That means you're stuck with me for the whole summer."
"Tell me about Paris. What's it like?"
"Oh it's just...so French," James scrunched his face, drawing another giggle from Rose.
"Of course it is, it's their capital!"
"Well it's so…prissy! Everything is so elegant and snobby," James sighed, pinching Rose's cheek affectionately. "You'd love it there."
"Dad!" Rose huffed. James merely grinned unrepentantly.
"I'm sure Celeste would love to know that," Lily's teasing voice interrupted. Now it was Rose's turn to grin as James paled slightly.
"Now, lils, there's no need for that," he chuckled, pulling the woman to his side and planting a kiss on her lips. Both adults sighed in contentment while Rose merely watched with wide eyes. "Besides, she can't deny it's true. That woman really loves shopping for perfume."
"And how would you know that, James?" Lily asked, dangerously sweet. Despite knowing she was playing, James couldn't help a slight shiver up his spine.
"She decided my cologne wasn't up to scratch and lectured me on not having taste," he grimaced, causing both females to giggle at his plight. "I never knew that there was so much to know about scented sprays, merlin."
"She's a touch too posh for my taste," Lily conceded wryly. "Hopefully she doesn't kill Dawlish."
"They'll manage," James shrugged, though it was clear he didn't believe the words. "But enough about work, Rose, what do you want to do first?"
"Circus," she giggled, drawing a dramatic sigh from James' lips. Lily merely rolled her eyes exasperatedly. Smacking him on the side of the head.
"And does mommy get a say in this?"
"Nope," Rose grinned unrepentantly. "You had me for nine months, this is daddy daughter bonding time."
"Shame, I was planning to take you shopping, but-"
"No, let's go shopping," Rose amended hastily, drawing a laugh from Lily.
"That's what I thought. James, grab your money pouch, we're going to make this a fun day for all of us." The man merely groaned, hiding a smile. James would not have it any other way.
Author note:
A longer chapter this time! I definitely had lots of fun reading up on Cherokee culture. It's fascinating to learn they society was bordering on matrarchial, with elder females often being involved in the selection of the chief. I read that the brother of a child's mother is actually a more important parental figure than the father, as males played a relatively limited role in a child's upbringing. Women were also often scholars and warriors, which is remarkably progressive in terms of gender. I hinted to, but want to make clear, that I based the Cherokee magical culture on pre-European influence, as American missionaries caused a reversal of this and males gained a more prominent role in society. While I may hate gender studies and the seemingly frivolous debates that involve name calling more than actual discussion in modern politics, I must concede interest in sociology and the structure of societies. In our 'real' world, the native american tribes struggled because of their matrifolical hierarchy, yet with magic as an equaliser, I fundamentally believe that the relative average physical weakness of a woman compared to a man could be overcome and the original system continued. I say this not to start a gender war in the comments, but rather to try and inspire everyone to realise that there are alternatives to our current system. I neither advocate nor reject this, but rather seek to promote reflection, research and discussion. I personally find it amusing that many feminists today believe that female empowerment is trying to 'out-masculine' men, as that suggests traditionally masculine traits are inherently more desirable than feminine ones, but this discussion isn't suited for a several hundred word long author note in a relatively obscure Harry Potter fanfic.
Anyways, no comments between last time and when I'm publishing this, so I'll guess I'll just talk about penguins. Despite appearing cute and cuddly, penguins are actually quite different from the idealistic lens cartoons make them out to be. First on the theory of monogamy, in truth, a small but sizeable percentage of penguins swap mates each year. Beyond this, as Harry points out, some female penguins will prostitute themselves out to other males for resources. Male penguins have also been documented having homosexual intercourse with each other, sexually abuse chicks in pedophiliac behavior and performing necrophilia on dead female penguin corpses. Yikes. Onto the point of penguins stealing chicks, it's believed that because a penguin will leave their offspring for months, they would otherwise lose their parental sense, thus their body produces a hormone called prolactin. This is essentially supercharging maternal instincts in penguins. Thus, if a mother loses her chick, she will try to 'adopt' another one, either abandoned by another penguin, or if none are available, kidnapping another, which leads to fights. One penguin actually kidnapped a skua chick. Yep, its maternal sense was so strong it kidnapped a child of its natural predator. It probably was idealistic to expect them to be morally upstanding creatures, but hot damn, they've been whitewashed into cuddly merchandise. Sorry for ruining them for you.
As always, if you enjoyed this chapter and the story as a whole, a follow and favourite would mean a lot. Liked or disliked something? Be sure to leave a comment. I'm by no means close to being a perfect writer, and any feedback helps. If you want to have a chat with others who love the story, consider joining our discord server with code: 8tE6SmXETw. Otherwise, until next time, toodles!