All Hail the Lord Caer Azkaban!
"All Hail the Lord Caer Azkaban! Long may he rule!"
Even after a surreal hour drifting his new domain, the words still echoed in his head. The fact that most of his new servants greeted him with that same salutation likely had something to do with it. From the black-robed dozen on the steps, which Sable had assured him where his personal staff, to the 'lesser' servants who kept the castle running, few had said anything else within hearing of their Lord. Feeling disconnected from his own body by the unreality of the situation, Harry hadn't pressed them for further comment.
Sable had shown him around his keep, the inner domain of his realm as she put it, finishing with the grand tower where they now stood. From here the entire island was visible on a good day. That was the theory, anyway, but Harry was having a little trouble testing that assertion.
"Not that I mind the wind," he said, "But I can't see through this fog."
"The fogs are an ancient part of Azkaban's defences My Lord," Sable proudly supplied, "Though admittedly I can tell you little about them. Detailed accounts of the defensive measures where not always recorded due to security concerns, and some details where lost with the original Azkaban line."
"How can you be certain?"
"An overview of the Island's defences is kept in the main record repository, My Lord" Sable replied indicating her book.
"The main repository of records for the Island of Azkaban is a single book?" Hermione asked, her curiosity piqued.
"My book links to the repository," Sable bluntly asserted, "It merely grants access to my Lordship's personal assistant – a measure implemented at the direction of the seventh Lord Caer Azkaban."
"Can you tell me what the other shoe is, then?" Harry stared unseeing over the landscape, his tone distant.
"My Lord?"
"Harry is still waiting for 'the other shoe to drop'," Hermione explained, having adapted to the shifting circumstances more readily than her master, "It's a figure of speech, referring to the bad that accompanies unexpected good."
"I see," Sable took a moment to check her book before replying, "There does not appear to be any record of such a thing, My Lord. It is likely that there is no hidden horror waiting to ambush you."
"I'm not that lucky," Harry replied bluntly, "It just would have been nice to see it coming for a change, but I guess I'm not that lucky either. What where you going to show me next?"
"Umm..." Sable seemed flustered for a moment before her usual demeanour reasserted itself, "I believe that my Lord wished to see the tailor and armourer?"
"I did, yes." Harry agreed, "I need new robes anyway, and something protective would be invaluable."
"I have arranged for them to meet us in your chambers to take your measurements," Sable explained, "Shall we do so now?"
"As good a time as any," Harry agreed, "Please, Sable, lead the way."
"As my Lord commands."
. . .
Harry sank into the luxurious upholstery of his new private sitting room as he watched his girls getting measured up for their new garments. His new 'Master of the Wardrobe' apparently already had Sable's measurements, being as he was responsible for clothing all the castle's inhabitants, but Harry insisted that she get fitted for a set of armour as well. As safe as his life was, he really couldn't afford to take chances.
The Master Armourer had recommended a set of light combat robes – free-flowing and unobstructive, with a solidly reinforced breastplate for good measure. He had assured his Lord that he could enchant the lighter fabric just as effectively, claiming that manoeuvrability and precision counted for more in modern magical combat than blunt defence. Given that the enemy had a fondness for the killing curse, and the only known defence was not being hit, Harry was inclined to agree with the man.
The Master Armourer also proved to be the island's weaponry expert, able to comment on any number of the deadly devices. Crafting them was often done by the smith's guild, apparently, but the overview remained with the Master Armourer rather than the Master Smith. He agreed to pick out some suitable examples for his Lord to examine as soon as he could make a spare moment.
The Master of the Wardrobe, however, regretted that the prior incumbent's robes where unsuited to his new Lord, lamenting that it would take years to build up a suitable selection of robes. Harry instructed him to focus on the semi-formal, since he was not planning on making a scene of himself, and to expand the wardrobe as and when required. He also insisted that the man learn the enchantment from his shadow-spewing cloak.
When the Master of the Wardrobe seemed reluctant to craft cloaks with the express purpose of covering up his other work, Harry suggested that he could make the effect subtler, focusing on the face to obscure his Lord's features rather than his robes. The man agreed that it would be possible (and acceptable) to adapt the enchantment in such a way as to leave the viewer in no doubt that they saw Azkaban's Lord, without letting anyone get a detailed impression. He was muttering happily about variable effects as he finished measuring Hermione before scuttling away to begin his work.
"Sable," he called as the Master Armourer got to work on Hermione, "Would it be possible to arrange a meeting with the Librarian?"
"Of course my Lord," she reminded him, "You may meet with any of your subjects at any time. Shall I call the Librarian now?"
"Please," he asked, sighing as she strode over to the door to pass on his instructions, "Is there anywhere else we need to go today?"
"Well..." Sable glanced uncertainly at Hermione before continuing, "Is it My Lord's intention to keep her here?"
"Of course," Harry replied, the words tasting bitter in his mouth as he continued, "Hermione is my friend, and her research abilities are unparalleled. I need her."
"Then I would suggest setting some time aside to visit the island's psychiatrist." Sable offered, "Given the proximity of so many Dementors, they are some of Azkaban's most valued individuals. My Lord excepted, of course!"
"Of course," he sighed, "I won't drag them away from their patients if I can help it, then. We will go to see them later."
"As you wish, My Lord."
They where interrupted by the arrival of a breathless Librarian, who gasped his declaration of loyalty just as the Armourer left. A sighing Harry gestured at the man to rise before introducing him to Hermione as his researcher.
"May I presume that you wish me to give Mistress Granger access to your library, My Lord?" he inquired after getting his breath back, "You should understand that they have become sadly outdated without a Lord to maintain them."
"Yes, including my private library," Harry agreed, "Regarding the latter… Hermione, you have the catalogue?"
"Yes master," she replied, immediately proffering the requested book which caused a quartet of jeweller's boxes to fall to the floor.
"I had forgotten," Harry sighed at the sight, "Do you remember which pair is which?"
"Yes master," Hermione replied, a blush staining her cheeks.
"Take this catalogue," Harry told the man, "Order anything in it not already on your shelves and I'll cover the cost. Ask them if we can set up a standing order to cover any further additions to the stock."
"Yes my Lord!" he happily exclaimed, "Gladly my Lord."
"Let me know of any other good sources if you can find them, but that should at least keep the basics well covered. Before you do that, however, I'd like you to show Hermione to the private Library."
"Of course, My Lord."
"Hermione, remember that you don't have to read the entire library overnight." Harry advised her, "Just catalogue to begin with. You're my researcher – make sure you don't have to research where to start researching when I have a question that needs answering."
"I… I understand, master."
"But first… the rings?"
They where undeniably beautiful. Hermione called them 'caduceus rings" - a plain metal band with two snakes twisted around it, each with the other's tail in it's mouth. One pair of rings had silver snakes curled around a golden band, the other pair where distinguished by the golden snakes twined around each silver band. Harry kept one of each, gifting a golden snaked ring to Sable and a silver one to Hermione.
"My Lord, it is improper for a lowly servant to bear jewellery!" she protested when he offered it.
"It is an enchanted trinket to help you in your duties," Harry wearily explained, "It would be improper to refuse it."
"I… As my Lord commands." she reluctantly submitted, allowing Harry to slide the ring onto her finger.
. . .
The remainder of the day was quite uneventful, other than a brief conversation Harry had with Kreacher. Harry ordered him to keep 12 Grimmaud Place as a safe fallback point for him and Hermione, and promised to look into setting up a more secure link. Stressing that the House Elf's primary duty was to safeguard the locket from falling into Voldemort's hands, he accepted Kreacher's efforts at dinner, calling on Hermione through the ring rather than summoning her as he had that morning.
Was it really only that morning? It felt like a lifetime ago.
Sable excused herself to make the beds when Kreacher brought the dinner, after ascertaining that Harry was not intending to share his bed (a blunder for which she most profusely apologised, much to Hermione's embarrassment). As there was a bedroom adjoining the 'little' sitting room of the Lord's suite for guests, she prepared that instead.
With little prompting Hermione described Harry's new private library as a two story tower room, with a balcony ringing the upper story and two broad writing desks – one on the floor, opposite the door, one on a bulge in the balcony above the door.
"It was a beautiful room," she enthused, "I've never seen such valuable books – there was even an original copy of The Book of Coming Forth by Day!"
"What is that?" Harry asked with a small smile.
"It's an ancient Egyptian manuscript," she told him, "One of, if not the, oldest books in the entire known world."
"I didn't know you could read ancient Egyptian," Harry commented.
"I can't," she drooped, "Your new Librarian can, though. He said it was good to speak with someone who actually cared for a change."
"Is Azkaban not a literary community, then?"
"Oh, the other library sees plenty of use." Hermione assured him, "Or so I've been informed. I think he meant that most people are too easily discouraged. If they can't read the language they ignore it and grab a different book."
"An understandable inclination." Harry commented, "You can usually find what you need in another book faster than you can learn a new language from scratch."
"True master, but there's no guarantee that what you want can be found elsewhere."
"It's a gamble," Harry explained, "And humans are hard wired to pick the better bet. Learning a new language might give a better return on investment, especially if there are enough other sources to use, but in general probably won't."
"I… I suppose you are right, master," Hermione reluctantly agreed.
"Not that I am trying to dissuade you from learning," Harry added, "Though you probably won't have time to learn every language ever written, it might be fun to see you try."
"I am not that ambitious master," she smiled sadly, "And you a right that we don't have time if we are to find the answers we need, especially when you have another servant who can already read it."
"Next time inquire about the possibility of a magical translation device." Harry suggested, "Even if it can't provide a perfect translation, or work in all instances, knowing when something is worthy of further investigation and a proper translation will likely make your task a lot easier."
"I am your slave master," she reminded him, "My ease is not your concern."
"Wrong again," he corrected her, "I need you to do the best job possible, not punish yourself by making the work longer or harder. Even if I didn't need you at your best, I would still insist. I'll cover the cost, as usual."
"As you wish, master."
Harry sighed at the response. Hermione's binding may have left her loyal, but he still found himself missing his old friend. Keeping the reminder of all he had thought he had around was proving to be just as much of a punishment for his gullibility as she felt it was for her betrayal. His life was hard enough now that he found himself doubting every word from every mouth, but he still needed his old friend.
"Are you alright, master?" Harry barely noted the concern tinging Hermione's voice.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Hermione." he told her as he rose, "Pleasant dreams."
. . .
Harry drifted through to his own bedroom, where the solitude of a grand four-poster awaited him. It was a comfortably appointed room, easily able to serve as a study or lounge (though he had dedicated rooms for that) as well as a sleeping chamber. After years under the Dursleys, and the communal dormitories at Hogwarts, this was an unfamiliar luxury.
Sable was waiting between the sheets, having laid out his night clothes on the bed. He drifted closer as she greeted him, his puzzlement growing as she carefully slipped out of the bed until he noticed that there wasn't a stitch on her.
"What are you doing, Sable?" he stammered, averting his eyes.
"My duty, Lord." she replied, "Ensuring your bed is a comfortable temperature."
"What about your robes?"
"I am your servant, Lord Harry, and it is my duty to serve you in any way you may desire," Sable answered perturbed, "It should not bother me for you to gaze upon this body which belongs to you."
"Please put some robes on," he pleaded, "And give me some privacy. I want to get some sleep."
"I… Yes my Lord." she submitted.
"Good night, Sable. Pleasant Dreams."
"You too, My Lord."
. . .
The following morning, Harry was ripped from his after-slumber doze by a commotion at his bedroom door. After a few moments convincing himself that the previous day had really happened, and was not a dream sent by one of his many enemies to torment him, he rose to see what was happening outside.
He found Hermione and Sable arguing, the latter slumped against his door with her robes in some minor disarray. She was the first to notice his arrival, springing to her feet to greet him as the door swung open. Hermione was not far behind, disappointment radiating from her posture.
"Why master?"
"Why what, Hermione?" Harry asked bluntly.
"You forced Sable to spend the night on the floor." she whispered, her disappointment now tinged with fear.
"Sable," Harry sighed, "Why were you sleeping on the floor?" Harry asked, "Don't you have a bedroom of your own?"
"No my Lord." she replied, "As your personal servant it is my duty to remain by your side at all times to serve your needs. I can not serve you if I am away from you, so it is expected that I take the nearest floor if you banish me from the bed."
"Find a bedroom nearby," Harry sighed, feeling the early hour as he tried to process her insistence, "I'll not have you sleeping on the floor."
"As you wish my Lord," Sable replied smoothly, "There is a servant bedchamber adjoining yours..."
"Fine," Harry snapped, "And since we're in private, call me Harry!"
Harry turned on his heel and marched back to the bed, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself before looking for his clothes. Sable followed with a cloth package in her hands, from which she laid out a set of robes on the bed. A long light robe overlaid by a shorter, heavier robe, of purest black though the latter was edged in silver. With it she placed a navy blue cloak, the hem stitched with silver runes that echoed shadow.
"The Master of the Wardrobe sent this up for you," she explained, "He apologises for the hasty work, but believes that it should suit your purpose. The cloak is a prototype of the enchantment you requested, and will probably require replacement within the month."
"That was fast," Harry commented, determined to settle down after his last outburst.
"Apparently the shadow-spewing enchantment is old enough to be common knowledge, though it has fallen out of favour and so wide-spread use." Sable explained, "Adapting the effects proved relatively simple, though creating a stable variant will take considerable time."
"Be sure to pass on my thanks,"
"Yes my… Harry," she stammered, "Would you like to dress yourself again,"
"Indeed," Harry stated, "If you would give me a little privacy,"
"As you command, Harry. What would you like for breakfast?"
"What is there?"
"The kitchen will provide what you desire Harry" Sable stated, her eyes downcast.
"Full English, then." Harry decided after a moment's thought, "Make sure there is enough for three."
"The kitchens will provide as much as you desire, Harry." Sable replied with a bow as she retreated out the door.
. . .
After dressing himself, Harry let Sable guide him through the corridors to his personal dining room, where she laid placed the food before him. Hermione had joined them again, and reluctantly took a seat with little prompting, provoking a frown from Sable.
"Are you not going to eat, Sable?" Harry asked.
"It would be unspeakably rude to eat in my Lord's presence, Harry." Sable immediately objected, "To say nothing of sharing his table. I will grab something as my duties allow."
"I insist," Harry eyed the woman hovering at his side, "You can't fulfil your duties if you are famished. Sit. Eat."
"But my Lord..."
"Now Sable." Harry instructed in a low voice.
"Very well, Harry." she acceded, placing her tome on the table opposite Hermione and adding a plate for her own food.
"Speaking of which, what's after this?"
"Whatever you wish, my Lord… Harry," Sable answered his glare, "However, the Council of Advisors have requested an audience, and await your presence in the audience chamber. Also, the psychiatrist has agreed to an appointment at your earliest convenience."
"I thought that the Psychiatrist was always busy."
"That is true, Harry, but by long tradition they always make new arrivals their highest priority," Sable explained, "I am told that it saves them a lot of work in the long run."
"Prevention is better than a cure," Harry quoted, "What of the Council of Advisors?"
"They are the citizens that directly advise my Lord of Azkaban," Sable explained, "They include representatives of each major branch on Azkaban, including the prison, the guard, the township and the guilds. Their duty is to advise the Lord of Azkaban in their field of expertise, and convey his instructions to those under them."
"I see," Harry slowly processed this as the meal passed in silence, before glancing round to see that his companions had finished, "Council Chambers first, I think?"
"As you command, Harry."
Sable rose with commendable alacrity, leading the way through the keep to the Audience Chamber of Azkaban. Throwing the doors wide, she drew every eye as she announced their arrival:
"All Hail the Lord Caer Azkaban! Long may he rule!"
. . .