XIII. Judgement

Above all, good judgement is essential. This text, while a foundational resource, is not all there is to villainy. Adapting well to situations outside those explained here is crucial. Know when to go all in, and when to cut your losses. Recognize when something isn't worth it, or when someone definitely is- know well that a failure in judgement could send all your works tumbling down around you.

Harry's ability to do much of anything in Colombia- because why not start there, right?- was limited by the fact that his translator was literally incapable of surviving daylight. So Harry only came ashore after the sun had set- he did think far enough ahead to take note of where the magical quarter in the area was, thankfully.

He was aware they made an odd pair- the British gentleman and his vampire companion/translator with the oddest accent- and they drew no shortage of attention…

Still, Harry thought that the magical quarter of the city was marvelous. The architecture looked as if it was built in the days when Spain ruled over the area- and perhaps it was. Harry was no expert.

Of course, Harry found himself attracted to a bookstore, as if pulled in by some sort of perverse gravity. He knew he couldn't read them, but he wanted them anyways… what a conundrum.

He managed to reign himself in and reminded himself that paying for large purchases with gold recovered from a treasure ship would be a very bad look, but he couldn't help but notice the vampire's failed attempts to look uninterested in one of the books.

As she talked her way through the purchase- maybe trying to barter?- Harry prompted her to ask about local myths and legends, things like El Dorado and such. The shopkeep burst out laughing, before explaining.

"He says that in all honesty, El Dorado is… " she paused for a moment, maybe translation issues? "...a crock of shit? Yes. A crock of shit."

Harry snorted as she continued translating. "The Spanish convinced themselves the city of gold must exist- and people still chase that conquistador's fantasy."

Harry was silent for a moment. Definitely interesting to learn about, if more than a touch disappointing. Still, the man was kind enough to tell them about the origin of the myth- a lake Guatavita, and even told them where to look. Apparently, a native people called the Muisca dumped loads of gold in the lake as part of some ceremony. The real reason was that they just didn't value gold like Europeans did- but of course, the Spanish figured the natives had so much gold they could afford to dump it, an entire city's worth, even.

He did take a stop by the lake- it definitely wasn't a bad looking lake, especially at night, when he could see the stars reflecting off the lake's surface… it was splendid. In theory, Harry could have taken gold from the lake- attempts to drain it through muggle means had failed, but he might have been able to succeed… but robbing a native cache of gold, as opposed to a sunken treasure ship felt different. He decided to leave it be- screwing with ceremonial sites seemed like a bad idea. At the very least, there was probably some bad luck in the area, considering how many attempts to recover the gold didn't turn out well.

After bouncing around the Caribbean for quite a bit, Harry eventually set his sights on Mexico- he had realized that he had become something of a history buff, at least for history that was rich with magic, and he was certain that looking into native magic would be fascinating.

His first stop was the Yucatan Peninsula, home of the Maya civilization- and it did not disappoint. The pyramids, half swallowed up by the jungle, were both impressive and a little humbling. Harry hoped that his own castle would be something that lasted for a long time- hopefully, while still being inhabited.

Harry was excited (but not too surprised) to find pyramids that the muggles had never heard of- some of them even sat within viewing range of the more famous pyramids, but spellwork kept them hidden. Unfortunately, it seemed likely that if modern magicians had hidden it, they had probably taken the good stuff… still, no reason not to try, or to not indulge a little by climbing them on foot. You weren't supposed to climb the other ones for safety reasons… but Harry had archaeological fantasies which needed to be fulfilled.

Walking inside the little room at the top of the pyramid and realizing it was bigger on the inside was only icing on the cake.

Walking through the strange, long abandoned halls of a Mayan pyramid, a vampire in tow, was definitely interesting. Not exactly where Harry imagined himself a year ago, but certainly interesting.

He was pretty sure this pyramid was abnormal in some sense- the space just didn't work out properly. Sure, Harry generated a string behind them so they wouldn't get lost, but it just felt… off. He took like five rights in a row with no noticeable change in altitude, followed by a tunnel that felt way too long to fit inside the pyramid. Without the string Harry was certain they would be maddeningly- perhaps irreversibly- lost.

Eventually they reached a room covered floor to ceiling in a carving- the other tunnels had carvings, plural, but this one had a singular carving of one large snake, the great, feathered coils forming the walls of the room. Harry brushed his hand against the cold turquoise stone, feeling the intricate detailing that went into the feathers- so lifelike!- until eventually reaching the head, which poked out from the wall.

The face was locked in a snarl, dark obsidian fangs glinting faintly. Harry experimentally touched one with his finger- opening a minor cut which he quickly mended with his wand… before realizing the stone was starting to crack.

Immediately Harry put up a shield charm, but the room wasn't collapsing under its own weight… only the stone that made up the snake was cracking, pieces flaking away to reveal delicate feathers beneath the rock. Harry looked back at the head, only to come face to face with a pair of serpentine eyes.

"Hello there." The snake said, the creature's quiet voice seeming loud in the enclosed, ancient space. "Does my… liberator have a name?"

"Harry Potter." He replied- it seemed like he was speaking Parseltongue.

"What brings you here, Harry Potter? What goal drove you here?"

Harry shrugged. "Adventure, I suppose. Ancient knowledge, I guess."

"As fair a reason I could ask for, and better than most. After all, wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure, no?"

Harry blinked. How did the feathered serpent know that particular quote? Could it read…

"The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure." Snape's legilimency lessons.

Harry gulped. "What are you?"

"An interesting question" The feathered serpent responded, giving a dagger filled smile. "Perhaps I am Quetzalcoatl, lord of the day and winds, ruler of the West. Perhaps I am Kukulkan, god of the Itza and harbinger of rain. Perhaps I am both. Perhaps neither. Would you care to guess?"

An answer couldn't quite spring from Harry's throat, which suddenly felt horribly dry. He might have bitten off more than he could chew here, but maybe it would appreciate humility. "I don't know."

"Admitting you don't know something- a grating thing to do." The snake nodded as it circled Harry and his vampire companion- Harry felt bad for her, trying to stumble through Parseltongue translations with a giant, feathered snake breathing down her neck.

"Of course, admitting you do not know is the first step to knowing. You seem intelligent enough, Potter, and as a possible god of knowledge, I challenge you to make your best guess."

Harry inhaled, ready to give some sort of answer, when the snake interrupted him again. "Not now, of course- think on it. Research. And perhaps, if we meet again before my twin- if he is my twin- reintroduces himself to you, I might give you an answer."

The serpent leaned in close, so close that it was almost touching Harry's face, so close that those obsidian fangs could sink in within moments… "But never let it be said that I have given you an impossible task, that I set expectations that cannot be met. Take whatever you can find within this room- and this."

Harry felt a feather brush against his forehead before his knees buckled under him, and the last thing he felt before passing out was the rushing of wind.

Again, Harry awoke in someone's lap. Thankfully, he still seemed to be alive, even if he had a pounding headache…

"Are you alright, sir?"

Harry groaned but sat up. "Think so…" The room had changed: there were parts of it that had been hidden by the feathered serpent- Quetzalcoatl? Kukulkan?- that were now open, considering that the serpent left.

There was some stuff there- which Harry definitely would be taking, since he had permission- like knives and idols, along with painfully delicate looking codices, but the main thing that caught Harry's attention were the walls. The walls which he could read, even if it gave him a pounding headache.

Had the snake thing basically just lodged the Maya and Aztec (some part of him whispered Nahuatl) languages in his skull? Well, Harry certainly wasn't going to complain if that was the case- he only hoped the headache would fade.

"Before we go, we should take some notes." If he could read ancient Maya magical codices… oh boy. Harry liked that idea very much.

Harry found himself lingering in Mexico for quite a while, both to investigate the feathered serpent, and because he wanted to see what this whole Day of the Dead thing was all about, preferably while in Mexico City.

In a turn of events that wasn't that shocking, Harry found himself drawn towards the older and more magical parts of town. He managed to find a space to stay, where they could hide from the daylight and read (or attempt to read) the books they got. Harry was almost certain that the person he was renting from thought they were up to something- the looks they gave Harry seemed knowing, or at least the person thought they knew.

The city was interesting- it was basically built on top of the older Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan, and it showed in some of the more magical parts of the city, where floating gardens flourished in caverns and grottoes beneath the city, seemingly carved by magic. They grew a number of interesting magical plants Harry had never seen before, and he bought a few samples to send back to Neville.

After several interesting meals from vendors (cactus paddles! Tripe! Beef tongue!) and long nights spent exploring the city, the Day of the Dead finally arrived.

Harry loved it. Celebrating Halloween had never really been something Harry did before, both because of the peril that so frequently accompanied it and the bitter gall of knowing that it was the anniversary of his parent's deaths. Perhaps that latter part was why Harry liked the Day of the Dead- it was a joyful celebration, focused on celebrating and remembering those who were gone, and while Harry had very little to remember he liked it anyways.

Graves or home altars were lavishly decorated and samples of the dead person's favorite foods and drinks were placed nearby, supposed to draw the spirits- and sure enough, Harry saw the occasional ghost wandering by. Some part of him wondered if the ghosts at Hogwarts would like something like this, or maybe his own crew…

Of course, Harry grabbed some things to bring home: the brilliant golden flowers which were used to decorate the graves (quickly hit with a charm that kept them from wilting when no one was looking), the little sugar skulls and other treats, even a bit of Mexican booze. Harry wasn't sure if his parents or their friends were drinkers, but pouring one out for them seemed appropriate.

Harry thought it was sort of funny how they passed by no small number of men and women in skull paint- little did they know an actual member of the walking dead walked among them! The half smile on the vampire's face did make Harry start to wonder- surely, they had lost people too. People who lived hundreds of years ago, but people who were important to them anyways.

After returning with treats, Harry quietly added another room to the castle while everyone else was busy with their sugar skulls and pan de muerto. The space was tucked away, quiet, and hidden from the sun- more for the sake of the vampires than out of any real attempt to make it dark or moody.

He took a few photos and placed them in the quiet little room alongside great bunches of flowers. A place to mourn for his parents, whose graves were far too public. For Sirius Black, who had no body to bury. And of course, Tonks and Remus- for Harry's sake nearly as much as Teddy's, when he grew old enough to understand.

Harry had considered filling the space with other heroes from the battle of Hogwarts- he even wrote a few letters, asking for magical pictures if folks had any- but it seemed like other inhabitants of the castle had caught the gist of what it was supposed to be.

The only one Harry recognized was a picture of Ted Tonks, a smile bright on his face as he held a babbling babe in his arms. All of the others were unknown to Harry: pictures with obvious tears and scratches at the edges- as if handled with claws- or ones of Frenchmen and veela, and some of them were simple drawings, presumably because the camera hadn't been invented yet.

Mexico had to be one of the most worthwhile trips Harry had gone on yet, not even counting the languages he picked up and the codices and books he managed to get.

XIV. Open Mindedness

Well seemingly an odd trait for a villain, open-mindedness can be crucial. A willingness to make friends in odd places or adopt unconventional strategies can help make up for the fundamental disparity in power many villains face early in their careers, when nearly the whole country is against them.

Harry decided that the vampires probably needed a bit of fresh, non-smog choked air, and while the boat was still floating around the Gulf of Mexico (Harry hoped to either circumnavigate south America or Confundus his way through the Panama Canal) they still had thestrals- or at least, the vampires Cheval Mallet looked just about ready to kill if Harry so much as approached another horse.

Thankfully, with a bit of help from Kreacher, Harry managed to apparate the Cheval Mallet to land in Britain- it showed Harry just what it thought of apparition when it nearly planted its hooves into Harry's chest, but seemed cheered by the idea of being out on the land again. Harry was also excited- he wanted to explore the British Isles, and find every last artifact and relic he could- he still had a dozen of the Thirteen Treasures of Britain to go.

There were a lot of potential places that they could explore for this purpose, but Harry eventually decided on going north- as interesting as Cornwall and Wales were (and Harry had a feeling that the 13 Treasures, a series of Welsh myths, would mostly be located in Wales) Harry felt a bit of nostalgia for Hogwarts, and decided to take a look at the parts of Scotland outside of that single castle's periphery.

This kind of turned into a multi-day trip eventually, which the vampires, for obvious reasons, couldn't suffer, even if they did sometimes check on him during the nights. Otherwise, it was just Harry and the horse, exploring parts of rural Scotland. Harry wasn't going to lie, he almost felt like a hero out of the stories, with his staff and his gleaming silver mount…

Figuring out how to get his horse all the way to the Hebrides was a real trick, involving a complex sort of water repelling spell on the horseshoes, but it was worth it for the sheer novelty of galloping across the ocean. This turned out to be significantly less fun when the ocean was choppy in almost any way, so Harry basically had to be casting full time to keep the water ahead of them smooth enough to ride over.

It was a short time after his landing in the Outer Hebrides (the ones that Harry needed magic and not just a bridge to get to) that Harry heard thundering roars. Oh yes, the Hebrides. Home of the Hebridean Black. Harry pulled out his staff as his horse began to panic under him- Harry did not like to imagine what could strike fear in the heart of the Cheval Mallet, but he couldn't help but grin a little.

It wasn't quite a Hungarian Horntail, but Harry was interested to see how he had grown since the Triwizard- he wanted to see if he could take a dragon on. He gripped his staff, but tried to reign himself in a little. There was no reason to assume that the dragon or dragons actually meant him harm, right?

He could see a tremendous plume of fire past the crest of the nearest hill, swiftly followed by a second.

Harmless.

The ministry did try to keep track of the wild dragons beneath their care, as they were some of the biggest threats to the safety of the Statute of Secrecy- they were also, in some ways, assets. Their heartstrings, their blood, even the meat if you were feeling bold… so the Ministry tried to keep a careful eye on their behaviors- making sure that they were breeding enough, and making sure that their bodies could be properly harvested after death.

So when two dragons died in rapid succession in the same place in the Hebrides, they immediately sent up a team, to secure the site and begin the long process of, well, processing the dragons… only to find that someone had beaten them to the punch. Normally, they would have scared the spectators away from the dragon corpses, even oblivated them if they were Muggle… but it was Harry Potter.

Harry thought that the whole thing was a bit of a shame; the two dragons had somehow gotten into a fight and managed to kill each other. There were beautiful creatures which killed each other pointlessly, but if that wasn't bad enough one of the dragons left a clutch of eggs behind. How could Harry stop himself from saving the eggs? He had no damn idea how to raise a dragon- maybe he could send them to Charlie or something, or borrow his notes- but it was better than just leaving the eggs alone.

It was after getting the eggs all packed away- after applying charms to make sure they stayed warm- that he heard people. Turning around and wondering if he would have to do some impromptu oblivations, Harry came face to face with some Ministry employees, who were staring down at him, slack jawed.

Harry waved at them.

The blokes from the Ministry took a few solid moments to process the sight in front of them- Harry Potter standing triumphant over the bodies of two monstrous dragons, an honest to goodness staff strapped to his back.

"Would you like help with the butchering, Mr. Potter?" Maybe if they were lucky, Harry would let them keep some?

After a bit of negotiating, they decided that each group would get roughly half- Harry didn't really want to press, while the Ministry thought they were getting a remarkable deal considering that they were evidently Potter's kills. Harry eventually realized that they thought he had slain the beasts- but Harry was feeling a little spiteful, and he figured that if he said he just chanced upon them, it might mean more dragon products going towards the Ministry… and screwing over the Ministry was always a good thing, even in something as minor as denying them whatever profit the dragons might provide. So he just… didn't bring it up.

Harry was already imagining how cool a dragonhide jacket might look…

While in the Hebrides, Harry did occasionally chance upon travelers- he had spells up to keep the muggles from questioning the weirdo on horseback on an isolated island- but he didn't really key those spells towards wizards for obvious reasons. Harry didn't care what wizards thought about him, but he wasn't quite stupid enough to go prancing around in front of the muggles.

He thought he was riding on an empty stretch of coast when he heard someone say."Nice staff you've got there." Harry admittedly jumped in his saddle a little when he heard that voice, but the man who spoke- a rugged but jovial looking sort of chap- didn't seem hostile towards Harry.

"Thank you- it's served me well." Upon closer examination, the man was definitely a magician- there was a wand at his hip and a netful of fish hovering in the air behind him.

They seemed to be heading in the same direction, so after a few seconds the man broke the silence. "You from around these parts?"

"Not quite- raised in the home counties, actually."

"The home counties? How'd you and your horse get all the way up here?"

"Magic."

The man guffawed. "Fair enough. If you're so far from home, would you mind staying for dinner?"

"Really?"

"The wife and I don't get guests that often. We could both use a little break from the monotony."

The man's name was Ross, and he had a small cabin for himself and his wife situated a ways inland. Why a fisherman felt the need to live inland was beyond Harry, but he supposed that magicians were allowed to be eccentric like that. Little garden plots surrounded the small house, and after a stern warning to not eat the nice people's plants, Harry let the Cheval Mallet graze and followed Ross inside.

His wife was a dark haired woman by the name of Agathe, who seemed to be muggle, at least as far as Harry could tell- she didn't use any spells at all, or even carry a wand on her person. She put on a warm smile, but Harry could almost feel the melancholy she was steeped in.

She seemed a touch distractible as well, kind of losing track of the conversation during dinner, preferring to just stare out of the window, and Ross had to ask her if Harry could stay the night several times. Once the question finally got through, she agreed, but before Harry could question what got her in such a funk, Ross began pestering him to drink.

Eventually, Ross managed to drink himself under the table, although he was very careful to tuck his wand in an enchanted holster that was apparently so good that the fae themselves couldn't steal the wand away, whatever that meant. A few moments after Ross lapsed into unconsciousness, Agathe approached Harry.

"You are a wizard, yes?" Agathe asked quietly.

"Yes."

"Then I'd like a favor."

"What sort of favor?"

She sighed. "My… husband," Harry was shocked by the amount of contempt in that whispered word, "has taken something from me, and I can't possibly leave without it- he knows that, and he's hidden it away with magic."

Harry felt anger bubbling up in his chest- what sort of sleazeball would use his magic to entrap a woman like this?- and nodded. Agathe quietly led him to a corner of the cabin, where she gestured to a particular board on the floor. "It's the only one that doesn't budge, or stain, or even creak. I've checked."

Harry blinked, then pulled out his wand, carefully cutting away at the wood of the floor to reveal a little hollow beneath the boards… and in that hollow was a… seal skin? What the?

Agathe leapt for it, snatching it out of the whole and clutching it close to her chest. "Thank you- I won't forget this, Harry Potter!" She sprinted out of the house, and deeply confused, Harry followed her to the coast.

She didn't even slow as she approached the frothy sea, simply throwing the sealskin over her shoulders, where it began to warp and change, lengthening and stretching around her skin as she herself transformed- until there was a seal sitting on the shoreline, which quickly made its way into the sea and disappeared. After a few moments, Harry connected the dots. Selkie- the seal like creatures which could shed their skins to take human form. If you could steal the skin while they were out, they'd stay in human form until they got it back...

Ross had chanced upon Agathe while she was out on the surface and not in her seal skin, stole the skin, and basically coerced her into being his wife. Harry had never really considered the implications behind those stories before- figuring they were just fiction- but it made him feel more than a little sick to his stomach. And of course magicians would be able to screw the selkies over by using magic to hide the skin where they could never recover it, because of course the ministry would never allow Selkies to use wands...

Harry stomped back to his horse. "Wake up, buddy- we need to trample everything."

Some part of him was almost tempted to go further afield, maybe shoot for Shetland or Orkney… but that was a pretty long trip, and Harry was (nominally) supposed to be focused on his boat, which was still floating around in the Caribbean, which was waiting so he could go to Peru and investigate the Inca. If nothing else, it would be interesting to see the mountains and Machu Picchu, but Harry was almost certain there would be more interesting things to see there. Harry wondered if the magicians down there had figured out spells to allow for easier breathing in the thin air, or something like that…

Still, there were things that needed to be done on the island and around it- like expanding it a little. He was pretty hesitant at first, not wanting to start swallowing up too much of the Dogger Bank or to screw with whatever the mermen had set up on the seafloor (Harry had swum under once, to see the mermaid herding fish like cattle), but they did need more room for all the animals… including the dragon eggs, if he decided to keep those…

Harry was snapped out of his thoughts by some of the mermen surfacing in front of him- shit, did he send a sandbank through someone's house?- but after a moment something surface behind them. A seal. A very familiar seal. Harry sighed.

HARRY POTTER: DRAGON SLAYER?

[The picture (taken with the careful use of a pensieve) shows Harry Potter, staff at his back, standing near the bodies of two Hebridean Blacks- the image alone made the issue a best seller.]

Attempted emotional beats? In my self indulgent fic? It's more likely than you think.

Whether the Feathered Serpent is a god or just a hyper intelligent, powerful creature is entirely up to the reader, but I thought it would make a fun connection to Harry's Parseltongue.

As for the selkie- I decided to use that term to refer to the shaping shifting seal sort of magical creature, and not just a catch all for fugly Scottish merpeople. Maybe Harry just has some deep magnetism which attracts aquatic humans? The vivid green eyes, perhaps?

As always, I am open to thoughts and opinions about what Harry should be getting up to next.