Epilogue: Part Two
John IV walked the reception room to deal with his next appointment. Mentally he thought, one half hour for this, thankfully it is my last morning appointment. Then an hour to eat, then two hours with the Lord Seneschal to go over petitions. And this is Thursday . . . I should be free by perhaps Eight o'clock tonight.
"Ah, Commander Lord Henry Somerset and Lady Caroline Somerset," He said in greeting. "You may rise. And follow Us."
John IV led them to a private chamber and closed the door. "Nephew, you are extremely annoying. Your entire family is extremely annoying. The only one who was decent was Robert, God rest his soul."
Harry paused as Caroline gasped in surprise.
"Yes, Caroline, my dear niece," His Majesty said. "I am a real human being underneath all of this." He walked up to her and hugged her. "I apologize for ruining your image of the King."
Caroline flustered at the attention. After all of her education and years of learning protocol, she had been hugged by the King as though she was married to a favorite nephew. Then she blushed. That is exactly what she had done.
"Uncle?" Harry said carefully. "I apologize for all the problems I have caused."
"Harry, are you happy with your life?"
"Yes, Uncle." He looked at Caroline. "Very happy."
"And you were warned about how the commoners thought about you."
Harry's answer noted his confusion. "Several times, Uncle."
"Well, nephew, you are officially a legend. You will remove your uniform and submit your formal resignation."
Caroline looked at Harry, hoping that she was right about what this meant. As she looked, John took a rolled parchment from a hidden pocket. It had the Royal Seal attached.
"Harry, Caroline, I want you to know that I am using you. I know that both of you have accepted your current position, and I know that you will not object to my proposal. But you must know that this particular decision was made because it is most convenient to the Empire. It was made years ago, but only now is the time right. It also means that we will probably never see each other again."
Harry nodded. "Uncle, this meeting is more than I had ever hoped for. It is reward enough for such a fate."
John smiled. "You should have been a poet, Harry. That was well said. But you both must attend me. We have made efforts to strengthen our holdings in New England and New France, and our weakest position is what are collectively known as the Carib Islands. Except for Quoba, most of these have been left deserted after the original natives were exterminated. Several are still uninhabited."
Harry seemed surprised to hear about the native population. He was familiar with the Royalty in New England. He had even met the nephew of the Duke of Mechico, and Lord MontClaire had told him of his visits to the Duke of Niagara, under whom he holds his fief. Caroline explained the reason for the extermination in three words: "They were cannibals."
His Majesty continued. "Harry, you know personally how things are in New England and New France. You have spent almost all of your time there by my orders, until I told them to send you to London. Our efforts elsewhere are strong enough, but we need to establish colonies to hold these islands, and we need the means of attracting people to these islands." He handed Harry the parchment. "Lord Somerset, it is by Our Order that you are elevated to the rank of Duke of the Carib Islands. You will choose your place of residence, and use every effort to form a viable community there and elsewhere throughout your fief. As your fief grows, we shall appoint others to help you in your task. You are to take possession of your lands no later than the last day of March. That is our command." He smiled kindly. "You will have help, of course."
"I will do my best," Harry promised.
Caroline squeezed his hand. "We will do our best, Your Majes . . ." John waged his finger. "Uncle," Caroline concluded, blushing furiously.
"This will help you in your task." John handed them a folio which contained a book.
"Fodor's Guide to the Caribbean." Harry had to laugh. Then he paused. "This is a recent edition?"
John looked at the clock on the wall. "That is all the time I have, I fear, unless you would like to join myself and the family for something to eat. Harry, I know Arthur would like to meet you again."
Caroline nodded, and Harry said, "we would love to, Uncle John."
John IV smiled as he opened the door that led to the private apartments of the Royal Family. Harry couldn't help but stare as Crookshanks immediately jumped into His Majesty's arms.
"Mum," Harry cried. "There's a strange man." The five-year-old boy ran to hug his mother, leaving the door open.
Goodwoman Jenny Planck laid Molly down in her cradle and walked to the door to look outside at the approaching man.
"It's only Daddy," Jenny chided. "You couldn't have forgotten him."
"He's with the strange man." Harry looked up, his brown eyes watching his mother carefully for the sign that everything was all right.
"If he's with Daddy, he must be a friend."
Harry grinned and, in a typical five-year-old manner, ran out the open door to greet the stranger. Jenny grinned as she followed her son, then began to run as she recognized her brother.
"Ron!"
They hugged each other as Henry picked up his son and told him, "It's your Uncle, come from far away to visit his sister. We must make him welcome."
Harry grinned and waited his chance to hug his new found relative.
"How?" Jenny asked when she had the chance.
"The control stones. They're still linked to each other. Once we found out, we had to come see you."
"We?"
"Susan came with me. She decided to wait in town."
"She should have come here with you."
Ron grinned. "She's due next month. She'll wait until I can find a coach."
Jenny hugged her brother for all he was worth.
Ron stared in wonder at his niece. It was hard for him to believe that his sister already had two children. He was not even going to have his first for another month.
"Jenny, how much does your husband know?"
"Everything," Henry said as he came up behind his wife. "She told me about it years ago, when we first came here."
Jenny nodded. "It was after I thought, you know, we wouldn't see each other again. Should I ask why?"
"Because Harry's coming. I had the choice of waiting for him in London or here in Quoba."
Jenny smiled. Ron had chosen to see her. "It will be nice to see Harry again. Is he Captain of his own ship?"
Ron laughed. "He's not in the Navy anymore. By now he's officially the Duke of the Carib Islands."
Jenny frowned. "There aren't any people in the Carib Islands."
"There will be. It seems that this war is in hand, and people are looking forward to the peace. At least that's what I was told. Thousands of people are flocking to the Islands." Ron paused. "Someone very high up asked me to help Harry."
"Tell him yes," Jenny pleaded. "He can give you a title. Just ask Baron Creevey."
Ron smirked at the idea. Colin's father as a Lord of the Realm. "Not a bad career move for a milkman. Dennis is happy, although he's confused about why he's the heir."
Jenny looked at Henry and they both smiled. They had met Commander Sir Colin Creevey recently when his ship visited Port Adelaide. It was Henry who said it. "The Commander does not want to give up the Sea. What was it he told you, Angel? He has a place where he belongs."
Ron said in mock surprise. "He's a commander? But he's only seventeen."
"Don't remind me," Henry said as his hand rubbed his sleeve and his Lieutenant's stripes. "If this war lasts, he'll make Admiral by the time he's twenty-five."
Ron paused, then smirked. "Then you're going to hate this. They made him a Captain. It seems that a frigate captain was promoted and . . ."
Ron stopped as Henry groaned and Jenny laughed. He was talking about the Adventurer. Newly ranked Commodore Slye had warned them that his replacement had close friends at the top.
Ron stood outside the small house in the early morning before dawn and looked out over the dark water. It was appropriate that a sailor would build a house by the Sea, but Henry Planck was a smart sailor, and built the house on a hill, well above the tides.
His journey was only a visit to see old friends and family, but here was his family, far from home, in strange surroundings. He could find nothing familiar. Susan, sleeping inside, would stay with Jenny and Henry until things were settled. When that happened, Ron hoped they would all come to join him. Him and Harry. (He and Susan had both agreed not to tell them their secret until then. It would make things easier.)
As the eastern sky began to grow light, he noticed a small figure by his side. It was little Harry. The boy slipped his hand into Ron's and smiled.
"Look, Uncle Ron. Is the Sun coming up?"
Ron laughed as an old memory surfaced of his mother singing to him. "It might be having some trouble. Maybe we should help. Harry, do you know how to call the morning?"
The boy grinned widely, and both began to sing:
Sing to the soft light that shines in the east.
Sending its promise to bird and to beast
Call out to each soul that can lend an ear.
Sing of your joy because morning is near
Sunlight breaks softly on far lofty peaks
Flowers raise petals to light that they seek
Voices are raised high, their hearts all astir
Singing with joy because morning is near.
Bright youthful faces wipe sleep from their eyes
Looking with wonder as light fills the skies.
Dreams are forgotten, they cry out in cheer
Songs full of joy because morning is here.
By the time they were finished, the sun was already showing its face above the horizon. Ron heard a noise and looked behind. Jenny was standing at the door, smiling, with baby Molly cradled in her arms. Henry walked up behind her, and kissed her neck. She turned her head and they kissed again.
Ron sighed as everything became familiar. The shapes were still wrong but the feelings where right. This was a proper Weasley home after all.
Henry would leave soon to return to his ship. Ron would wait for Lord Harry. They would sail to Kingstown, which would be Harry's seat. He would stay there and raise a family of his own. He knew that he and Susan would build a home exactly like this one. It would be a different shape, and in a different place, perhaps the mountains, but it would be the same in one respect.
It would be filled with love.
The years rolled by and eleven-year-old Arthur Weasley leaned on the desk where his father was working. Ron removed his glasses and looked at his youngest son. "And?"
"Dad, what is it like? Hogwarts."
"You will find out in a few weeks."
"I know, but . . . Robert did not go, nor John."
"Robert can not go. And John has visited his Uncles Harry too many times. He would rather the sea."
"But should I go?"
Ron frowned and grinned at the same time. "No, you should never go anywhere." Arthur matched his father's grin, and Ron added. "You will go. If you do not want to stay, you will tell your grandfather and he will send you home. Or he may keep you with him. You are his namesake. And stay away from Uncle Fred and Uncle George."
At the reminder of his two uncles who ran a magical joke shop, Arthur's grin became impossibly wide. He would go to Hogwarts if for no other reason than to see his relatives. He hugged his father and turned to leave when there was a knock on the door.
"My Lord St. Thomas," the clerk said. "His Grace has sent a dispatch for your immediate attention." Ronald Weasley, Earl of Saint Thomas Island, took the important message from the clerk
"Thank you, Sir Francis." The clerk nodded and closed the door behind him. Arthur clung to his father as he opened the envelope. "Hmm," Ron mused. "Harry has to return to London. His brother finally decided to marry. He wants to know if you want to join him?"
Lord Arthur Weasley stood there with his mouth open. Lord Harry thought to ask about him. "I would love to."
"Then run and tell your mother, and show her this." Ron gave Arthur the parchment and watched him run off. He would be missed. Ron also knew that he might not return. But wherever Arthur went, he would have family.
It was late in the day as the seaman stopped his son. "There she is, lad."
"The old woman? Is that her, Da?"
"Aye, Tha's Jenny Planck. She's as common as you an' me, but she knows everyone. She calls Old Duke Harry by his Christian name and hang the titles, and the Lord High Admiral stops by every time he's in town. She knows Sorcerers and Lords the way we know our neighbors. She found her long lost brother one day . . ."
"I know Da. Someone said her house was too small, so she told the King to give him one of the Islands." The boy looked up. "Da, can we talk to her?"
The sailor looked down at his son, barely eight years old and already at sea for a year. "They say things happen to people who talk to her. Do you want to risk your fate?"
The boy hesitated, then walked across the docks where the old woman was sitting. "G'Day Goody Planck."
The woman was startled out of her thoughts. She looked at the boy who had dared to approach her. "Are you a relative?"
"No, Goody Planck. My Da pointed you out and . . ."
"And you wanted to test your luck by saying hello." The old woman smiled when the boy nodded in embarrassment. "Tell me, do I still make miracles happen when people talk to me?"
The boy stared in surprise. This was not how Great People were supposed to talk. "I was hopin' . . . " His voice trailed off into silence.
The woman sighed. She remembered another young boy. "Do you know the name Oliver? I knew a boy by that name, a long time ago."
The boy continued to stare. "We was in London half a year ago. They said the Marquis' son is named Oliver. But he's older than me Da. Is tha' the Oliver you meant?"
The old woman sat up when she was told that. Her next words were spoken in anger. "It was him. That little scamp. He tricked me into writing that letter."
"Who did, milady?" The boy asked.
"The Marquis of London. I'll talk to Harry about it first thing tomorrow. That boy is getting a piece of my mind. No, I'll talk to him now."
The old woman stood up with more energy than anyone would have thought she had. She immediately began to march toward the Ducal Palace two miles away. At a thought, she turned back. "Are you coming, boy?"
"Me?"
"Don't you want to see me yell at Lord Harry?"
Jenny smiled as the boy, and his father, followed her. The thought crossed her mind that she was creating another miracle.
Jenny marveled often about her past. She had come to this world in the lowest of positions. Her first true friend was a whore. That whore had a friend, a broken down old blind man with nothing left to live for. But they turned their lives around. They lived their last years in happiness, and their children prospered. Sarah died knowing that one of her grandchildren had become a knight. Henry, her husband, God rest his soul, had nothing except the sea. He also died with a blessed family. At this moment, three generations of Plancks were on the sea: a commodore; a captain; two lieutenants; and a brand new sub-lieutenant.
Jenny thought of the others. Old Admiral Slye, who, in a long ago war, captured a dreadnaught with his frigate, and the help of a great amount of fog. The Lord High Admiral, whom she still called Colin. And there were still others.
She never thought about that day when she first came to this world. She wished upon a magic stone that she would save Harry's life, and he would be forever grateful, and everyone one around them would be better off. But she did think of Henry Arthur, her son. Conceived during an act made of desperation, he was the focus of her life. She may have saved his father's life but he had saved hers, simply by being there.
"Do you have a name, boy?" Jenny asked as they walked up the steps to the palace.
"I's Cormac, Milady."
Jenny walked up to the guards who immediately opened the main doors for her, and one ran ahead to notify the duke.
The man and his son followed, unable to think of anything else to do. This was the legendary Jenny Planck they were following. They stopped when she did and stared at the famous Lord Harry, Duke of the Carib Islands. The old woman was brief and to the point.
"Harry, I need to go to London to scold your brother."
"I will summon the fleet immediately."
"Thank you."
Both the Duke and the old woman smirked at each other.
"Oh, Harry, this is Cormac. He dared to talk to me and now he wants his miracle."
"I am out of miracles. Could I give him a kitten instead?"
Cormac did not know it but that kitten was his miracle. It made people notice him and when they noticed him they saw what he was capable of.
"He's called Crookshanks," Cormac told his fellow naval trainees three years later. "He's descended in a direct male line from Crookshanks the First, Old King John's cat."
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Books:
Thomas B. Costain. The Pageant of England: The Conquerors. Doubleday and Company, 1949.
Charles Dickens. Oliver Twist. .
Randall Garrett. Too Many Magicians. Doubleday and Company, 1966.
Randall Garrett. Murder and Magic. Ace Books, 1979.
Randall Garrett. Lord Darcy Investigates. Ace Books, 1981.
Dean King. A Sea of Words. Owl Books, 2000.
Angus Konstam. British Napoleonic Ship-of-the-Line. Osprey Publishing, 2001.
John E. Lewis, Editor. (The Mammoth Book of) Life Before the Mast. Constable and Robinson Ltd., 2001.
Samuel Elliot Morrison. The European Discovery of America. Oxford University Press, 1974.
Patrick O'Brian. Master and Commander. W.W. Norton and Company. 1990.
JK Rowling. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Scholastic Press, 1999.
JK Rowling. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Axkaban. Scholastic Press, 1999.
JK Rowling. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Scholastic Press, 2000.
JK Rowling. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 2003.
MOVIES, DVD AND VIDEO:
A High Wind in Jamaica. 20th Century Fox. 1966.
Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World. Universal Pictures. 2003.
The Last King. A&E / BBC. 2004.
INTERNET:
The Harry Potter Lexicon.
British Titles of Nobility.
The Napoleonic Guide.
AUTHOR'S COMMENTS
This is the section where I let my ego show. Forgive me in advance for this.
Over two years ago, I had the idea for this story. Some fifteen months ago I began to write it. I wrote six chapters and stopped. It was terrible. The story did not flow.
At first, I had Robert arrive in full health. (See Excerpt One Below.) It was nice for a few paragraphs but then it seemed to falter. I decided he should have an accident. It made his entrance more interesting. In this version, he still remembered everything. I was able to write a few amusing pages but the story began to falter, again. There was no suspense. I had a wonderful 'Harry's twin brother appears' story.
It was then, after writing another six chapters that I understood that I had not thought out the beginning very well. I knew what would happen once Harry entered the Empire. That was the easy part. I had never thought out Robert at Hogwarts.
And so I pondered. I had already revised the story for the third time. I had the cryptic opening. Robert had no memories. But I could not develop his character properly. Then I understood my mistake. Robert is and is not Harry. I kept putting him in Gryffindor. Robert's bravery is not in question, but it is not his chief characteristic. That would be dedication. As Professor Quirrell described Hufflepuff: patient, just and loyal, unafraid of toil. As a scion of the Empire, that was a perfect description of Robert de Somerset. Once I understood which house he should be in, I knew the rest of the story. I also understood the division of houses better.
On a tangent, the four houses can be described as four periods of history. To be more exact, there are periods of history when each house would have be prominent because of how their characteristics present themselves.
Slytherin is obviously the modern day. Its principles embody capitalism at its best and worst. The executives of Enron are the worst. Ted Turner, the media mogul would be the other side of the coin. (To quote Gordon Gecko: "Greed, for lack of a better term, is good.")
Gryffindor is the first half of the last century. The World Wars. Tommy Aikens in his finest hour. The men who fought to make the world better.
Ravenclaws are the sons and daughters of the Industrial Revolution. Thomas Edison stands at the head of the class (in my opinion) with countless others pushing from behind.
And now we come back to Hufflepuff. We take one more step backward and we stand in the Victorian Age. Everything is for Queen and Country. We all have our places and we all need to do our best.
Hufflepuffs fit everywhere, you know. They are the bureaucrats who do the small jobs which must be done. But they are also the organizers to show us what must be done.
America in the 1960's: John F. Kennedy is in Gryffindor, with brother Bobby in Ravenclaw. Lyndon Johnson could have qualified for Slytherin. (Richard Nixon certainly did.) But the archetypical Hufflepuff was Martin Luther King.
I know that last part is lost on most people for the simple fact that we are talking about people from forty years ago, and most of us are not that old But it is a convenient analogy in its own way.
And now Robert is in Hufflepuff, and the houses almost seem to come together. The students learn that being in a different house can mean something as simple as sleeping in a different room. We are not as different as much as we are the same. At that point, the story began to write itself. I did take the deliberate shortcut of assuming that the reader was familiar with all the HP novels. Otherwise, I would still be writing.
But writing is not always easy. As the story evolved, certain plot lines disappeared as I realized the errors of thinking in my story. Some of these were minor, such as the ban on using magic against another person. Master Sean's defensive spell played a stronger role as a result. But there was one major change in my story.
Originally, the story was to have covered four years instead of three. Robert and Harry would befuddled Voldemort in the cemetery and both escape. But that did not work. If they could do so, they could also keep Voldemort from succeeding in his plans. And I couldn't send Cedric along. It was a mild night, last Autumn, when I understood what had to happen. I had no choice in the matter. Voldemort had to return. Nor would it take another year to find him and stop him. In the end, it took only seven typewritten pages to go from Robert's death to Voldemort's demise. After 200,000 words leading up to that moment, less than 4,000 words brought it to a conclusion.
Below are sections of the first two versions. I am posting them to give the reader an idea of how the story developed. This chapter would be the "Deleted Scenes" section on a DVD. The first is the original introduction of the second version. The second is the prologue of the first version. I dropped it because, it seemed to me, it came off as David Copperfield meets the Twilight Zone.
EXCERPT ONE: ORIGINAL INTRO
"Harry," Ron called out.
"Later," Harry called back as he raced through the common room. "I'm late for Quidditch Practice." He ran out the entranceway and down the hall, not looking back.
As he ran past and the portrait closed, a boy of similar age appeared, as though fading in, facing the portrait.
"Password, Please," the portrait said.
The boy looked at the picture with a sense of fear, then looked around himself, seeing only one figure, which was racing away. Instinctively, the boy fled in the other direction, making it a point to keep to the shadows and avoid anyone else. At one point, Professor Snape suddenly appeared in front of him, seemingly from out of nowhere, and the boy began to turn to run.
"Oh, please," Snape said in an annoyed tone. "Don't make us chase you through the entire school."
"School?" the boy said as he turned back to the Professor.
Snape eyed the boy carefully. He was a display of contradictions. He was dirty and barefoot, but his shirt was obviously made of silk with lace around the color and cuffs. What was left of his vest matched his pants which ended at the calf. The dirty fabric appeared to have once been red satin. As he watched, the boy brushed his long hair from his eyes, and pulled at a tangled piece that had caught in the torn lace of the collar.
"Come with me. Intruders get to visit the headmaster," Snape said, trying to be stern and gentle at the same time. "We'll clean you up and give you a meal before we pack you off."
EXCERPT TWO: FANCY INTRO
It is doubtful that I will be the hero of this tale. That position has been left to another although it is my lot to relate the events that occurred as accurately as I am able. I solemnly swear by the Lord God on high and by His Majesty, and by the Saint Robert of Anjou for whom I have been named that what I relate are true events.
I am Robert de Somerset, Lord Cahill, eldest son and heir of the Marquis of London. On the Eighth of October in the Year of our Lord Nineteen Hundred and Sixty Six, I was victim of an artifact that is known in your world as the Traveler Stone. I was in my thirteenth year when this occurred, and as I write this I fear that I will never see my family again as the power of the stone has become mute in my presence.
My father is also the chief investigator for His Majesty in the city of London and its environs. It was to act against His Majesty and my father that traitors, in the pay of His Polish Majesty Casamir IX, did engineer my kidnaping from my boarding school at Oxford at the same time that they engineered the theft of an artifact from the Department of Experimental Sorcery at Kings College. I was rudely confined with a local priest, Father John Marius, whose only crime was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. May God have mercy on his soul.
Whilst in their care, I did manage to escape and hide. The did not find me quickly, but they did relax their guard on the trophy they had seized while they searched for me. In eluding their pursuit I found myself trapped in the same room where they had stored the artifact, an experimental control stone which was, through sorcery, attached to the Traveler Stone. As I heard my captors approaching I uncovered the stone from its confines and deliberately took it in my hand. The door opened and I heard the report of a pistol. As my back exploded in pain, I remember wishing strongly to find myself in a place where they had never heard of the Polish Empire. This appears to be one of the abilities of the control stone, to align one's destination with one's preference, and I received my wish.
