Chapter 19
Unrelenting Surprises
It was exactly one week into July, and almost another year of relative peace had passed once again. Bill's third-born, Alan, would be turning nine in two days, and Molly had planned a big family gathering to coincide with his birthday. Harry was a bit annoyed about Ginny having to miss it, since she was scheduled to go on her two-week patrol tomorrow, but those were the demands of their work. Now, he was floating a few inches above the observation deck of a very steep cone-shaped building called Imperial Tower, which was the imperial palace of Shamballah. Peaking at a little over thirty-five hundred feet, and having a base diameter just as wide, it easily exceeded most palaces of the Earth Realm with regards to volume. He, Matt, and Governor Ironheart were looking down on the city. Though some buildings were very tall in their own right, none came within two-hundred feet of the Imperial Tower, since ancient laws decreed that the emperor's view needed to be unobstructed from his personal chambers, which made up the uppermost two hundred feet of the tower.
Currently, Nicolai's closest maternal relatives, along with some family friends who included Harry and Ginny, had stayed the night in the upper part of the palace. It was just he and Ginny, since he'd dropped his children off at The Burrow a few days ago to stay with their grandmother. Ron and Hermione had done the same with Raina, Christine, and two-month-old Ronald Junior, whose conception had surprised everyone, since Hermione hadn't planned on having any more children until she was in her late thirties or early forties.
"It was almost like Havana, Cuba, when I first got here. Most buildings were functional, though barely, and in need of thorough restoration. Despite that, it was still an impressive sight … but I digress. This building was just about the only one that had been properly maintained throughout the ages. About one tenth of the city has now been restored, and as you can see, Imperial Tower is used as the centre point for restoration," Ironheart said, sweeping his arm in a grand arc as he gestured to the buildings around them.
Harry could see some buildings in the distance that were surrounded by scaffolding and some floating platforms. All of the ones in the immediate vicinity had indeed already undergone restoration.
"How is my imminent son-in-law going to pay for it all?" Matt asked, having a pensive frown on his face. "As impressive as the prophecy sounds, I don't think it's enough to drive people to work for free, year after year."
Ironheart nodded. "It wasn't. He promised to make magic available to all—as was written in the prophecy—but after two years doubt began gnawing at people's minds and they wanted to see some proof. Mostly the ones who had been running the show before the gate opened—and they weren't too pleased with their sudden loss of status. I don't know how Nicolai anticipated when it would happen, but he did. That's why he decided to begin the diamond treatments in November. Magic is a priceless commodity here, enough so that it will get people at work at the mere promise of it. The effect can already be felt, too. Nicolai has given the building industry the highest priority above everything save the healing arts, and with more workers wielding wands they've restored more in the last four months than in the previous two years."
Harry could imagine people willing to do anything with the mere promise of magic. The Weasleys wouldn't have been able to get by with Arthur's income if they'd been Muggles. Wizards didn't earn as much money as Muggles did, but this wasn't a problem, since magical solutions to many things drastically lowered the cost of living. And a few months ago, Nicolai had taken steps to make magic commonly available.
First, he had re-created and adapted a Wand Revealer—a rare crystal ball first created by an ancient wand-maker some thousand years ago, and of which only two remained worldwide—which was a feat that no one had managed to do since the wizard's great-granddaughter, some hundred years after that. Upon being touched by a wizard, it would show the particulars of a wand that would best suit the wizard in question. He had adapted the new one to include the right mineral component, as well as the plant and animal ones.
Then Nicolai had treated about a hundred flawed gems—donated by Matt—in a simmering potion that removed imperfections even deep within the stones. Charlie Weasley Senior had been the first one to successfully test a treated aquamarine in the Mirror Realm, after which Nicolai hired some twenty potions masters and a hundred goblin and dwarf gem-cutters to help him produce the gems in greater numbers. He'd also hired and trained Janos Gaal and some other retired Ranger artificers to create and place three tiny oval umbranium-alloy sockets on every wand, where the three legs of the umbranium framework that held the gem a tiny fraction of an inch above the wand's tip could be clicked into place and removed again with a slight push and twist. That made it easy for Earth Realm wizards to remove the gems so they could safely cast spells in their native realm upon their return.
At first, the wands had been converted on demand, but as five months passed, adding between sixty-five and seventy gems every day, a testament to the potency of the gem-cutters' magical tools and their skill in using them, Nicolai decided to adapt the production strategy to suit a trend in the gemstones' demographics. These had shown that the harder minerals suited more powerful wizards and witches, while softer minerals suited less powerful folk. The first through thirtieth percentile of wizards had gems like hiddenite, kunzite, grossular garnet, rock-crystal, amethyst, citrine, pyrope garnet, spessarite garnet, rhodolite garnet, zircon, and iolite. The thirty-first through seventieth percentile of witches and wizards had proven to be compatible with minerals like uvarovite garnet, andalusite, or one of the beryl varieties like aquamarine, emerald, morganite, heliodor, and the many colours that couldn't be classified under those names. Next, the seventy-first through ninety-fifth percentile of wizard-kind favoured topaz and spinel, each with their many colours, and the witches and wizards closer to the ninety-fifth percentile had chrysoberyl, of which alexandrite was the most well-known variety. The penultimate category of gemstones was compatible with the remaining four and nine hundred ninety-nine thousandth percent of witches and wizards. These were corundum stones, of which ruby and sapphire were the most popular examples. Unknown to most, however, corundum came in almost every colour, just like the softer beryl. Finally, one thousandth of a percent of wizards were so powerful that only diamond would do.
At least, that was the current assumption, since Harry had been the only one to need a diamond, according to the adapted Wand-Revealer. However, it had turned out that the magical artefact hadn't been able to detect the magic not native to Harry, for his first test with a red diamond had destroyed it. After determining what had gone wrong—that the pendant's magic had taken Harry's power to a level no natural substance could handle—Nicolai had devised a way to create an artificial diamond for Harry.
Until recently, beta carbon nitride—a material derived from theories on crystalline structure entertained both by wizard alchemists and Muggle scientists—had been only a theory. And while Nicolai had could have created the artificial gem himself, he hadn't done so, since a gem created by Harry's own magic would be more compatible with Harry himself. That was why Nicolai had extracted the necessary knowledge from his mind and introduced it into Harry's with the help of a handy Knowledge Immersion Pool, a device Harry had used before when he had needed to learn Kung Fu in a hurry. Unfortunately, a side effect was that Harry felt like he had an encyclopaedia in his head, which accounted for the involuntary mental monologue about mineralogy and gemmology. He had also displayed some of Nicolai's mannerisms for a while, though those had fortunately faded away. Still, it had been worth it. Now Harry owned a gem that encased a single cell of his own blood—something that improved its channelling capacity even further.
"So what kind of gem do you have?" Matt's voice rang, snapping Harry out of his Nicolai-influenced thoughts.
"Yellow sapphire," Ironheart answered. "You?"
"Padparasha …orange sapphire." Matt said, as he drew showed his wand and showed an orange stone to Ironheart.
"Ah, that brings back some fond memories." A silly grin appeared on Ironheart's face, and Harry sensed that this was leading to an anecdote about one of his conquests. "I had to track down a stolen magical padparasha once. The search for the stone also took me to Iceland, where I met your mother-in-law. Gods, if I hadn't known for a fact that succubae had been extinct in the Earth Realm for six hundred years, I'd have suspected her of being half-succubus. She was insatiable!"
Matt laughed. "Believe me, the apple didn't fall very far from the tree."
If Harry hadn't been practising his invisibility, which he had finally discovered about a month ago, his ears would have been Weasley red by now.
Ironheart sighed wistfully. "A pity that she can't be here today."
"I've hired a crew to make recordings of the wedding and reception. One of Doc's sisters is in the business. Verna will get to see the entire wedding next time she visits the children at Caer Sidi."
Knowing that merely appearing out of thin air would lead to questions, Harry quickly floated to the stairs and descended partway before turning visible and tangible again. Then he ascended the stairs on foot until he reached the observation deck.
"Harry, good morning," Commander Ironheart called out to him. "I trust the breakfast was satisfactory."
"Very. But that's hardly surprising, since everybody knows the royal chef's skill," Harry replied, as he came to a stop next to Matt, at the edge of the platform. He followed Matt and Ironheart's example and rested his arms on the cast iron railing.
Galatea's sister Thetis was the royal chef in question, and she'd grown to become one of the best in the wizarding world. When looking for someone to prepare him Earth Realm dishes in the Mirror Realm, Ironheart had hired her. The smirk on the aging wizard's face told Harry that Thetis was more than just a chef to him, probably bringing him breakfast in bed whenever his wife wasn't around. She was a bit on the dumpy side and the least attractive of her sisters, but considering that Ironheart had once hooked up with a giantess, it was unlikely that he discriminated against mass. He wondered if Ironheart would ever grow too old for his behaviour, though he doubted it.
Harry nodded to the city below. "I've already flown around the city. The people are really gearing up for the party."
"I can't thank you enough for keeping an eye on things during the wedding ceremony," Ironheart said. "I wish I didn't have to rely on the Rangers, but it'll be another decade before I'll have a competent Imperial Guard."
"Nicolai is also a Ranger now. We look after our own."
"This reminds me, Donovan. Elena, Nicolai and Mary can move into our neighbourhood, because I have a buyer for your house in Concordia," Matt said.
"Really? I didn't know one of the families in the neighbourhood was moving out."
"Antoine Lescoriere got a promotion, and he and his wife wanted to move up the social ladder by moving to a higher tier."
"They're not moving into my house, are they? If they are, do what you must to reverse the deal," Ironheart said, a look of plain disgust on his face.
Matt sniggered. "Not to worry. We didn't do a house-switch. Antoine's raise was substantial enough to allow them to move to the fifth tier. The bastard's still greedy despite his raise, though. He tried to sell me the house at three times the market price. I had a hunch he'd try to capitalise on his knowledge of my ample finances, so I brought Xander, along with his favourite toy. It's this magical rubber ball that bounces like crazy…not something you want a kid to have in a room full of pottery and porcelain. Antoine was far more reasonable after three of his vases broke," he added with a malevolent grin.
Ironheart chuckled. "Creative solution to your problem, and an excellent way to use your opponent's psyche to turn the tables on him. You'll make a fine commander someday, Mr Kelly."
"Me? What about Harry?"
"Harry shook his head. "No way I'll become a commander. Maybe a lieutenant, if I'm offered the spot. But nothing beyond that."
"He's not comfortable with being responsible for people he isn't closely acquainted with," Ironheart said, summarising the reason for Harry's reluctance. He didn't mind commanding fellow Combat Rangers he knew very well into dangerous situations. But to be responsible for every soul in the Order was something he never wanted to experience.
"Really? One would think that it would be peanuts for you, given the things you've been through."
"I didn't go through them by choice," Harry pointed out. "Had I been able to choose, I'd have shoved the responsibility for defeating Voldemort on someone else."
"True leaders often get the mantle of leadership thrust upon them, though. They don't choose it," Ironheart said meaningfully.
"Yeah, but it only works out if those leaders are comfortable with their assigned roles. I don't have it in me to lead at the highest level and be comfortable doing it."
Matt reached over and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good point. Oh, and before I forget, I also managed to pick up a wedding present for Mary and Nicolai at the Lescorieres'. After Antoine capitulated, I managed to save a fourth jar that was being knocked off its perch. At first sight I thought it was a very good replica among a bunch of obvious fakes, but when I caught it, I saw an etching on the inside that identified it as Ming dynasty, late Wanli period."
Harry had heard of the Ming dynasty, but most of what he knew were anecdotes from Nicolai's thoughts and memories about the properties of jade and jade jewellery. "Sounds expensive."
"It's worth about two thousand Galleons. It's a magic jar, and only thirteen of its kind were made. Three are at Caer Sidi, three in the Japanese royal family's vaults, and five in a Chinese wizarding museum. The other two were presumed lost, until this one turned up. Their magic properties are activated if you place a jade stone inside, and they preserve everything you put in the jar perfectly. I told Lescoriere that I might as well take it off his hands since my son ruined his set. I offered him fifty Galleons, since I also had to compensate the broken ones, but he asked for a hundred. Hell, even a replica this accurate costs a hundred, so I agreed. I reckon he probably thought he got his revenge on me, he was so happy."
Harry and Ironheart laughed heartily at that, before lapsing into a companionable silence for a few minutes, watching the aerial traffic—consisting mostly of keelboat-sized flying ships about fifty to seventy-five feet long, and fifteen to twenty feet wide—traverse the skies above Shamballah. None of those vehicles rose higher than eleven hundred feet, though, since ancient laws specified that the emperor had to be able to look upon the traffic as well. It wasn't very practical, since even the highest flying ships had to go around Imperial Tower. However, for security reasons, Harry felt that it would be better to leave that particular law intact.
"So where on the fifth level will the Lescorieres live?" Ironheart asked, still looking at the scenery.
Two doors down from the Fausts, actually."
"I'm sure Janice will be thrilled," Harry muttered sarcastically, and Matt and Ironheart laughed heartily. He turned his head sideways a bit to look at Matt. "So who's the buyer for the big house?"
"K&L Corp. I'm the one buying Donovan's house, but the new export manager for the vineyard and the Longbottom Leaf and Miraculum Weed plantations will move into it. She'll also serve as a liaison between Neville Longbottom and myself. You know her." A boyish smirk appeared on Matt's face. "She's the royal chef's younger sister."
Harry nodded. "Calypso. But will she be living there all by herself? It's a big house."
Matt stepped out from the middle to allow three way conversation. "Calypso will have the west wing to herself, and the main house and east wing will be refurbished to house visiting herbalists who have business with Neville and I, as well as some young herbalists-in-training who need to gain some experience with Assassin Vine in the vineyard and Longbottom Leaf at the plantation. Concordian lodgings are too expensive for many of them on account of the length of their stay, so I thought I'd set up some subsidised lodgings. Calypso has an excellent nose for herbology talent, and this way Neville and I get an extra edge in convincing the young herbalists that their future lies with Kelly & Longbottom."
"I imagine the fact that Calypso is pleading your case also adds to your advantage, if the aspiring herbalists are boys." Harry grinned. "A young, part-Veela lady only a few years older than themselves, batting her eyelashes and asking them very nicely to work for K&L…"
Ironheart gave Matt a calculating look. "At times I wonder whether you should have followed in your father's footsteps, Matt. I don't have to employ my gift to know that you're very aware of the potential benefits of young Miss Angelou's looks."
"It was Neville's idea, actually. He used a very appropriate metaphor." Matt's smirk became even more pronounced. "The brighter the flowers and the sweeter the scents, the likelier it is that the insects will return. Now I know what my herbology teacher at Bunyips meant when he said that there's wisdom in the plants. Anyway, when I retire, I just might go into business. Of course, I'll never let it swallow up all my time like my father did. It'll be a hobby. My family always comes first."
"Not that Gudrun wouldn't warn you if it looked like your hobby were becoming an obsession," Harry teased.
"For all your power, you don't wear the pants in your house either, Potter," Matt retorted.
Harry shrugged. "Ginny already looks better than I do in my boxers and dressing gown, so why not let her have the pants too?"
"Ginny snatches your boxers? She must have picked that trait up from Gudrun."
"Nope, she used to do that back at The Burrow too."
Harry leaned to the side and saw Ron approaching. Matt had been blocking the stairway's landing from Harry's view, so he hadn't seen Ron appear. The look on his best friend's face told him that Ron wouldn't have been up there if he hadn't had bad news. Harry got the feeling that he would probably miss the wedding.
"Maaike de Bruijn just came through the gate. Harry, you've been summoned to Concordia by Chief Peterson. It has to do with the trolls. Nicolai authorised an extra opening of the gate."
"He can do that?"
"Absolute monarchy, mate," Matt said. "Those are the dynamics of leadership around here."
"We'd better hurry, though," Ron interjected. "The gate will open in fifteen minutes."
"We?"
"I'm coming with you. I want to know what this is about."
"What about the wedding?"
"I'm sure we'll be back in time for the wedding."
x
"I was the only one not doing anything, so Faust sent me through the gate to fetch you," Maaike said. "I was really looking forward to unwinding a bit. The last days in England were a bit stressful," she added, rolling her eyes. "Some the Ministry of Magic officials wanted to see whether the Aurors have actually learnt anything, so I had to whip some kind of trial for them. I ended up simulating a vampire attack, and the Aurors got to apply the tracking techniques I taught them. I also borrowed a few red golems and a black one from the Order, to simulate a fight between Aurors and vampires. They had the nerve to suggest that I'd rigged the golems to hold back."
Ron nodded to her, conveying his sympathy. Many Fudge-like characters had been rising through the ranks of the Ministry for the last couple of years. The witch who had replaced Percy as the Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation was a sycophant of the highest order. It was a pity that the Order of Illumination had rules against direct interference with magical governments, withholding them from preventing such shallow characters to gain any real power. However, he'd pondered certain strategies that would allow him to circumvent these rules, and decided to talk to Percy about some of his findings when he went back to England to pick up his children.
Maaike continued to fume as they exited the Umbral Gate complex. "Hah! I should've set those golems on them. See what they would've thought after that."
"How is Rick Cotton? Did you two work on some relationship strategies?" Harry asked, skilfully cutting Maaike off before her rant could gain momentum.
"Oh, Rick's all right, and we decided to further loosen our arrangement. He came clean and told me he felt that he'd missed some good opportunities for a relationship with worthy women. I sort of felt the same way once, so I agreed. But we didn't burn our bridges, since I'll be seeing more of him the around this time next year. I'll be doing a follow up project."
Harry nodded. "Go on home and enjoy your break. It sure sounds like you've earned it!"
"Good luck with whatever trouble the trolls are causing." Maaike waved jauntily, and walked towards an express portal that would take her straight to the sixth tier.
Harry and Ron proceeded straight ahead, to a portal that would take them to the top tier, which was where the headquarters for the City Watch were located.
"Bugger. I wonder what the trolls have been up to. What could be so bad that that it couldn't have waited for a few more hours?" Harry wondered out loud.
"We'll know in about a minute," Ron said, while he waved his identification plaque over small mirror next to the portal. It shimmered to life a few seconds later, and Harry and Ron stepped through, ending up very close to the entrance of their destination.
They immediately saw about four dozen trolls of both sexes and varying ages arrayed in rows while Chief Peterson was addressing them. The Lord Mayor was there as well, probably waiting to get some answers.
"Ah, Mr Potter. I appreciate your making some time for us, with your busy schedule and all." Chief Peterson spoke up sharply, glaring at Harry. Ron was glad not to be in Harry's shoes right now. He found the accusing look in her violet blue eyes remarkably similar to Hermione's, even though the two women looked nothing alike.
"What seems to be the problem?" Harry asked, remaining impressively calm.
"Sorry about the outburst," Peterson said, having regained some of her composure. "The problem is that the trolls have been meeting all over town in brawls, trying to beat each other senseless and wrecking a lot of private property in the process. The only thing they told me was that you told them to do it."
Ron had to work hard not to laugh, so priceless was the look on Harry's face.
"I did no such thing!" Harry exclaimed, and turned to one of the trolls standing up front. "I want you to answer any of the questions Chief Peterson asks you. Understood?"
The troll nodded briskly.
Peterson frowned. "Why do I have to ask them?"
"Because you're better at interrogation than I am," Harry replied.
Peterson sighed and turned to the troll. "All right, you can start by helping me to understand why you've been fighting."
The troll reacted with a pained expression of long suffering, as if what Peterson had asked him to explain was so obvious that it needed no explanation. It pointed at another troll that was standing up front. "Pink!"
The other troll replied immediately, pointing back at the trolls Peterson was talking to. "Orange!"
It was only then that Ron noticed that the trolls were wearing pink and orange kerchiefs around their necks, and that they stood in the room, divided by colour. Somehow, though, he found it hard to believe that the trolls were fighting over which fashion statement to put forth.
Peterson turned to the other troll—with the pink kerchief—who seemed to speak for the trolls in pink. "No, I understand there are two factions, but what is your point of contention? Where do you disagree with each other?"
The troll pointed at his orange-wearing counterpart and spoke more emphatically. "Orange!"
"Pink!" the orange leader immediately replied, pointing to the other troll.
"Yes, but who gets to wear the pink sash and who gets to wear the orange sash?" Peterson asked, growing more exasperated by the second. "I mean, is it based on income, or caste, or rank, or—"
"We put orange and pink in six barrels," the pink leader interrupted. "One for near-men, one for men, and one for old men. Same for females. We reach in, we take. Where there was one troll people, now there are two. The two fight until there are one. Camp that wins will lead for next five years. General said we had to come up with way to choose leaders. Trolls decide this is best way."
Peterson stared at the trolls incredulously. "That's it? It's totally random? Arbitrary? Well then, how do you choose a leader for each side?"
"One orange and one pink carry mark of leadership," the orange leader said, and Ron noticed that they had a brooch of some sort on their sashes. "One who takes leader cloth is leader. One who takes orange is orange, and follow orange leader. One who takes pink is pink, and follow pink leader."
"Okay, so in other words—" Peterson paused in mid-sentence, and stepped between the leaders and pointed at the pink and orange followers. "Would you two step forward for a moment, please?"
The trolls were a bit confused but they complied.
"Okay, so what you're trying to tell me is that if I take this orange sash off him…"—Peterson took the sash off an orange troll, much to the dismay of the remaining oranges—"and put it on him…"—she put the orange sash on a pink troll, agitating both pink and orange trolls as she did so, but being too wrapped up in her question to notice as she turned to face the leaders—"that this one thing alone is enough to start a…"
She didn't get a chance to finish her deliberation, for a riot had erupted behind her. She was thrown to the floor by a bunch of fighting trolls. One landed on her heavily, and she screamed in pain.
x
"Great, just great! It'll hurt like hell. Not as much as having a troll crush your foot, but don't you think I've had enough pain for one day?" Peterson yelled, making Harry feel even more guilt than he had already been experiencing. Peterson's lower leg and foot had been crushed by the trolls' weight, and Healer Franklin had told her that it would be easier to simply remove the bones in the foot and re-grow them.
"I can give you something for the pain," Franklin offered.
Peterson shifted around, a motion that made her boneless foot flop back and forth. "Oh great, now you can give me something for the pain. Where were you when I was going through puberty?"
The healer held a tiny cup containing barely a sip of green liquid. "Drink this first, then. I'll dull the pain while your bones are growing back. Don't worry, it won't hamper the Skele-Gro, but you'll have to stay off your feet until your bones have re-grown."
"I don't have time to stay off my feet." Peterson pushed his hand away. "Give me something that'll keep my leg in shape for the time being. I can't have it flopping around."
"You'll need a temporary cast. We haven't used one in years, but I think I know where to find one," the healer said, before he strode out of the examination room.
Peterson turned to Harry. "I don't suppose you'll change your mind about letting the trolls govern themselves, are you?"
Harry shook his head. "They can't continue to depend on ridiculously powerful humans to tell them what to do."
"I was afraid of that." Peterson sighed. "Well, getting them together to resolve their differences didn't work, because they don't have differences to resolve. So maybe I've got to come at this from a different angle. Maybe find a way to structure things so no bystanders get caught in the brawl." She fell silent, morosely staring at her boneless foot.
"Maybe they'll listen better without members of the opposite camp nearby," Ron suggested.
"Talk to them separately?"
"Just a thought."
Peterson shrugged. "What the hell. It might work!" Then she dug into her pocket and took out a small mirror, examined it and heaved a sigh of relief. "Good, it isn't broken…Manilow?"
"Yes, Chief?" a voice replied tersely.
"Hey, don't be so moody. I think it's time you get over that lady. A working girl isn't reliable girlfriend material anyway."
"Her name was Lola. She was a showgirl!" came the vehement reply.
"Yeah, yeah, with the yellow feathers in her hair, and her dress cut down to there. You told everyone in the City Watch a million times. Honestly, you've been acting like she died, but she only dumped you. Now be quiet, I need you to do something for me."
"How can you be so callous? I was in love!"
"Ugh, you know what, get me Turner, and take the rest of the day off."
Moments later, a female voice sounded. "That was pretty harsh, Chief. He really was in love."
"What's love got to do,"—her sentence was briefly interrupted by a sudden hiccough— "got to do with it?"
"Have you no heart?
"Feh! Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken."
"Really, girlfriend. Why so bitter?"
Harry wondered that himself. For a moment he was tempted to peek into the constable's mind to see what caused her attitude, but decided not to violate her mental privacy.
"I don't want to talk about this, Tina. Did the trolls stay put, like Mr Potter ordered them to?"
"Yeah, but it's obvious that they're itching for a fight. Should I take them the holding cells?"
"No … we don't want to agitate them any further, and I don't want anyone to end up in the House of Healing. Take the pinks to the canteen and keep them there. I'm coming to talk to the oranges."
"The healers have patched you up?"
"Not exactly. I decided to deal with the problem now and get properly patched up later. Peterson out."
"Sorry for the delay," Franklin said, as he wandered in with a temporary cast that could be strapped around the foot. "I had to dust it off first."
"Just put it on," Peterson huffed impatiently. The healer complied, and managed to put on the cast in a decent amount of time, though Harry had helped him with the straps. Now, Peterson hobbled along, using a crutch to take some of the weight off the boneless leg, since the cast didn't give enough support to carry her weight.
Soon they found themselves in the City Watch headquarters' entrance hall again, where the orange trolls were now lying on the ground. When one of them noticed that Harry had entered the building, he issued a grunt-like command which caused the other trolls to quickly clamber to their feet.
"All right," Peterson hobbled in front of the trolls like an injured general. "What you've been doing is insane. You can't keep beating each other senseless over a piece of cloth, even if it is your way of choosing a leader."
"But fighting is way of troll," the orange leader said.
"I wouldn't have a problem with it if it wasn't inconveniencing other people!" Peterson said, and ripped off the leader's orange sash in frustration "I don't care how you do it, but you will find another way."
"Yes leader!" the trolls bellowed, startling her into dropping her crutch.
Harry looked around and saw that all the trolls were now facing Peterson and standing in attention.
Peterson suddenly looked at the trolls suspiciously. "What?"
"Who pick orange is orange, follow orange leader. Who take cloth for orange leader is orange leader. Oranges follow orange leader!"
Peterson looked at Harry, and all he could do was shrug. The trolls had come up with this method all by themselves, so he had no idea what was going on.
"Wait a minute. You're saying just because I'm holding I'm holding this right now, I'm orange leader?"
The troll seemed to embarrassed to answer.
"But I'm not a troll!"
The former leader had recovered enough to answer. "Rules of combat not mention troll by kind. Only say that one who take leader cloth is leader. Rules do not say that one have to be troll," he continued sheepishly. "One troll saw problem before combat, but was too late to change rule. It caught up in committee. Not come through until victors become new leaders."
Peterson grinned. "Yeah, bureaucracy. Tell me about it. Well, what do you know? All right." She looped the orange cloth around her neck. "Orange leader says that you're all coming with us down to the quartermaster's office—I'm sure he'll have some dye around. And those of you not spending the next few days locked away for assaulting a City Watch officer are going to look absolutely gorgeous in pink!"
x
Harry laughed, as they headed towards the nearest portal that could take them back to the Umbral Gate. "I can't believe that worked. Both groups were too confused to fight. Too bad it doesn't solve the problem of leadership for the trolls."
"It might," Ron said, as he suddenly got an idea. "They could still have a flag war in an altered form."
"What do you mean?"
"Instead of beating each other senseless, capture and dye the other side's sashes. A time limit needs to be agreed upon, since it could take quite while to achieve total victory, but it could work."
"It could," Harry agreed, while dug around in his pocket for his identification plaque. "They might be disappointed about the lack of skull-bashing, but I think they'll agree if I present the plan in a way that makes them see the merits of a more peaceful decision making process. Ah, here we go." He waved his plaque in front of a small mirror next to the portal. "Umbral Gate Complex."
Ron allowed Harry to step through first, before following him a second later. To his surprise, he ended up in the Citadel of Illumination, facing an ashen-faced Maaike and a grim Commander Faust.
Harry was scratching the back of his head. "How did we end up back here?"
"A Ranger invented those portals," Ron explained. "In an emergency, the traffic can be altered from the citadel. I guess your identification plaque triggered this response." He looked at Faust. "I assume there is an emergency?"
Faust nodded. "An Auror has disappeared in England. Ironically, evidence points to a vampire attack. I've already recalled the members of your patrol team. I'm sorry if I'm interrupting your plans, but I'm afraid this can't wait, and I have chosen to send you. You being there will stop certain disagreeable individuals from giving the team any grief.
"Ranger Weasley, you will be the intelligence officer for this mission. Those vampires should have known about our reaction to their kidnapping an Auror. There isn't a vampire in existence whom Ranger Potter can't crush like a bug, so I want to know where they got the confidence to pull this stunt. I've already temporarily reassigned your projects at the Citadel to someone else."
"Yes sir, but what about Hermione and Ginny? We need to send them word that we'll be missing the wedding. They'll be back later today, but I don't want them to worry about us in the meantime."
"I can't spare anyone, but I'll go myself."
"Thanks, Commander."
"Don't mention it. It's the least I can do," Faust said, before striding away.
Maaike heaved a strained sigh. "Well, I guess we'd better gear up. The sooner we got over there, the better."
Harry laid a hand on her shoulder. "If any of those Ministry idiots try to insinuate that you didn't train the Aurors properly, I'll give them a piece of my mind."
"I appreciate that, but I can't help but feel that I haven't prepared them properly."
Ron shook his head. Maaike was being a bit too hard on herself. "We don't know for sure exactly how things happened. If the Auror was alone, unprepared, and outnumbered more than three to one, it's hardly surprising that the vampires got the better of him. And you weren't there, so there really isn't anything you could have done about it."
They continued towards their equipment storage cells in silence. Harry and Maaike took a different turn, since Martial Division lockers were located in another corridor.
"Meet you in the maintenance bay, all right?" Ron called after them, and received affirmative answers.
He changed as quickly as possible and selected the equipment most suited to detecting, tracking, and killing vampires. Even though they would be superfluous in Harry's presence, they would come in handy if Harry was otherwise occupied and unable to follow the aura trails left by the vampires. Then he took a few moments to gaze at a recent picture of his children, with Ron Junior being held upright by his two sisters, fidgeting and drooling but still looking adorable, before heading towards the maintenance bay.
Harry was already there, talking to Rachel Esklove while a more junior artificer was scurrying all over the dorsal surface of the Draco, which was the second of the three new Constellation Class Cruisers. A fourth one, the Monoceros, was nearly finished, and the fifth and sixth ones, which would be called the Pegasus and the Phoenix, had yet to be built. Outwardly the new ships looked exactly like the older ones, but they were packed with improved weapons and detection equipment, and had a power source that didn't need replenishment for up to six years, depending on how intensively it was used. Ron hadn't been too keen on the name and had been about to protest, when Harry pointed out that they couldn't let Malfoy influence them from beyond the grave. In fact, they had taken to jokingly calling it the Malfoy.
"Do we have a ship?" Ron called out to Harry.
"We'll be taking the Malfoy," Harry called back.
"Hey, Ron, what's this all about?" Rolf Larsson's voice echoed through the maintenance bay. "My goddaughter was very disappointed that I couldn't take her to the zoo anymore. Not to mention that Lilia was pissed off that I couldn't keep an eye on her kids for the afternoon, since Heidi's in Shamballah for the wedding. Good thing Claire Montoya could watch them. Damn, I get transferred to Potter's crew and the next thing I know I'm whisked away from my leave at will."
"Emergency, mate," Ron said, turning around and walking towards him. "An Auror disappeared in England, and evidence points to vampires. I'm sure we'll be back here in a heartbeat."
"Famous last words," said Maaike, who had appeared in the entryway accompanied by Rashid Farouk and Tariq ben-Hamoud. The two Middle-Eastern wizards chuckled in response to her comment.
Rolf frowned. "What vampire would dare cross us, nowadays? We killed most of them these last few years. The only older ones alive … undead … whatever, are the ones who can control their impulses. Surely any of those who've slipped through our fingers would know better than to draw attention to themselves by kidnapping an Auror."
"That's what we're going to find out," Ron said.
x
Ginny hadn't been pleased when Commander Faust delivered his message, but she realised the necessity of immediate action. In the impressive temple—which, according to Hermione, very much resembled Saint Peter's Basilica in Rome—she had intended to sit in one of the pew boxes up front. Now that Harry and Ron weren't there, she and Hermione had chosen to sit in a balcony situated in one of the four pillars that supported the temple's main dome. They sat down in the second row, leaving the front one vacant for the bride's real family. There were also a third and fourth bench, though those probably wouldn't be used. Looking around, Ginny saw that she and Hermione wouldn't stand out in the crowd, since the mainstream Etti fashion in Shamballah wasn't all too different from what humans wore in Concordia. Then there were the fashions of the many other races living in Concordia, all of which had representatives present.
They were soon joined by Heidi and her kids, who had entered through one of the side entrances to avoid the thousands of onlookers. Even though Robert, Henry, and Westley were technically the groom's family, Heidi had still chosen to sit in the balcony on the bride's side, since the boys would be much more at ease with people they knew well. The moment she saw Ginny, Sissi broke away from her mother and toddled over as fast as her little legs would carry her, looking absolutely darling in her navy blue dress that was a miniature of her mother's. She placed her little hands on Ginny's knees and looked up hopefully. "Danny?"
"No sweetheart, Danny isn't here."
That clearly wasn't the answer the little girl had wanted to hear, and she tried to assert herself, folding her arms resolutely across. "Danny!"
"I can't go get him, either."
Sissi's big brown eyes filled with moisture and her little lips began to tremble. Then she began to wail loudly, prompting Heidi to pick her up and try to comfort her. It didn't help, though, and Ginny saw many of the people below craning their necks to see what was going on.
"I doubt Molly will be having an easier time with Danny," Hermione pointed out. "Both he and Sissi start behaving this way when they're separated for more than two days. I've always thought it to be odd how attached they are to one another. I think they might have a magical connection."
A cold concern gripped Ginny's heart. When Heidi had taken her daughter and the boys to Austria for a four-day visit to her relatives about a month ago, Danny had started to behave very restlessly after two days. And many times before that, he had shown signs of stress whenever Ginny chose to keep her children at home for some extended family time. "Do you really think so?"
Hermione nodded.
"Give Sissi to me, Aunt Heidi," Henry piped up, and as she didn't seem to be having any success with calming her daughter down, Heidi sat down next to him on the padded bench and transferred Sissi over to his lap. Henry then wrapped his arms around his little sister, tenderly rested his head on top of hers and began rocking her back and forth ever so gently. Within moments, Sissi's wails abated and her eyelids began to droop slightly.
Ginny wondered how he did that. He seemed to have a calming influence on those he chose to comfort, just like his mother.
Heidi sighed tiredly as she slid closer to Ginny. "I wouldn't mind if she naps through the ceremony. She's barely slept a wink all night, and she kept me up too. I had to use some makeup to hide the circles under my eyes."
Ginny had been about to reply that she too had been up all night, but for naughtier reasons, when she bit her tongue as she remembered that this was Heidi, and not Gudrun, Hermione, or any of her other female friends she talked to about those things. Heidi had sensed this behaviour in all her friends at one time or another and asked them not to walk around her on eggshells anymore, but most continued to do so for fear that she'd break down and start lamenting Wolfe's absence, which happened from time to time in spite of Heidi's best efforts to hold her head high.
Mimicking Heidi's sigh, Ginny hunched over a bit in the bench, placed her elbow on her knee and supported her chin with her hand. She had hoped that the she and Harry would be able to have a repeat performance at home, before she left for her patrol mission, but that wasn't to be. If she crossed paths with those vampires during her patrol mission, she'd make them wish they had never been sired.
"Xander, you will sit down and be a good boy, or else!" Ginny heard Gudrun's angry voice hiss behind them. "And stop plucking at my dress."
Gudrun, her children, and her grandchild had arrived with only minutes to spare for the start of the ceremony. The children were all dressed up nicely yet simply, in Concordian fashion. The secondborn, Nathan, was leading his family to the front bench, with eight-year-old Rachel taking up the rear, carrying her two-year-old niece.
"But Mum, it's so pretty, and it makes you look so beautiful. I just got to touch it," Xander said ever so sweetly, as Gudrun dragged him behind his older brother and planted him down in the middle of the front bench and guided Buttercup to sit down next to him. Rachel giggled at her little brother's statement while she put Oopsie between Xander and Buttercup, before closing the row of children. Ginny too had to chuckle at Xander's cheeky reply and the fairly convincing look of hurt of his face. For a five-year-old, it was pretty good acting.
The lad was right about the dress, though. Gudrun's ensemble was showy in such a way as to look effortlessly simple. A sleek sheath gown of very pale blue silk hung to the floor, just hiding her shoes, with floor-length hanging sleeves of sheer silk in the same colour. Above the scooped neckline was a necklace of inch-wide squares of beaten platinum; a belt of the same material hung low on her hips. Her hair was coiled in an elaborate knot on the top of her head and hung down in the back.
"Nice try, but you're not as smooth as your daddy yet," Gudrun huffed, though failing to keep her stern expression. Then she turned to Ginny. "Would you keep a special eye on this little rascal for me?"
"My pleasure."
"Don't let him charm you into letting your guard down, or you'll be indulging his every whim before you know it."
Ginny smiled. "I'll be careful."
"Thanks. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go back for the grand entrance. Protocol, you know."
"Have fun," Heidi said.
"Not likely," Gudrun grumbled, before hurrying off.
Moments after their mother left, the Kelly children turned in their bench to face the Wolfe children. Buttercup waved cheerfully at Westley, who had become her principal playmate after being absorbed into a girl-group consisting of her, Holly, Naomi Ramos and the slightly older Faust twins. All of them were very close to one another in age and would start school in the same year. Ginny had thought that Westley would be happier playing with Inigo Montoya and Tony Ramos, who were about eight months older than he was. But he seemed perfectly at ease with the girls, who doted on him and treated him like a prince.
"You look very handsome, Robert," Rachel said, gazing at Robert with a glassy look in her eyes.
Ginny glanced at Robert, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable. He cleared his voice, much like his father always used to do, before replying. "You look lovely too."
Though Robert was clearly just trying to be polite, Rachel absolutely beamed at the compliment. It was obvious that she had a huge crush on him, much like her older sister had had a huge crush on Nicolai at the same age. However, compared to Nicolai, Robert was a very normal child. Compared to other children he was far from normal, since the absence of his father had brought about a sense of responsibility in him that was alien to most boys his age. He'd been Henry's mentor and protector even before Galatea's death and Wolfe's departure, and it had only intensified afterwards, extending to Sissi when she was born, and later to Westley.
This forced maturity also explained his extreme dedication to learning martial arts, which he was getting really good at. A year ago an old Chinese witch who ran a magical dry-cleaning business in Concordia and who happened to be an old friend of Lei Li's, had approached Robert and asked him if he were interested in learning Kung Fu, or Wing Chun, as Robert would always patiently correct people referring to his style by the deceptive generic term for Chinese martial arts. According to his proud teacher, Robert was the best student she had ever had, learning the techniques twice as fast as even the better ones among her former students. On the other hand, the Olsen brothers had been very sorry to see their star pupil leave.
Ginny had tried the style herself, since the fact that it had been developed a woman had really appealed to her. According to Ranger Khan, it was a very simple and rudimentary style, since it had been developed to produce effective fighters in five to seven years, rather than the fifteen to twenty years it generally took to master other Chinese martial arts. But it had proven to be a bit too complicated for her, so she returned to more straightforward methods of hand-to-hand combat.
"Would you like to sit next to me, Robert?" Rachel's hopeful question brought Ginny out of her musings.
"I don't think so. I mean, the front bench is only for the bride's family."
"I'm sure Mum and Dad won't mind," Rachel said quickly.
"And you're going to be family anyway when you marry Rachel," Xander interjected, turning to his sister with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
"Shut up, squirt!" his older sister snapped.
"I read it in your diary," Xander taunted, and continued in a falsetto. "Dear diary, I can't wait to be Rachel Wolfe."
"Y-You can't r-read," Rachel stammered, though she sudden paleness of her face suggested otherwise.
"Can too! Write something and I'll prove it." Xander challenged, before turning back to Robert. "She wants to marry you and have your babies. Robert and Rachel, sitting in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G…"
"Shut up," Robert growled in a way so menacingly that Ginny got goose bumps and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. He was unmistakably charging up and stirring his magic, and Xander instinctively knew it too, because he immediately blanched and fell silent. "Your sister's diary is private," Robert continued, "and if you ever read it again, I'll ask Aunt Gudrun to have a shot at you myself before letting her punish you. And besides, a guy could do a lot worse than Rachel."
Having said that, he vaulted over the back of the bench and landed between Buttercup and Rachel. He demonstratively took her hand in his and held it, casting a warning look at Xander. It raised Ginny's opinion of the boy another few notches, since she knew there weren't many nine-year-old boys who would set aside their own embarrassment at learning about the affection of a girl to save that same girl a whole lot of mortification. Of course, he probably knew that none of the boys would dare to tease him, which made it less of a sacrifice, but it still showed that he cared a great deal about his friend's feelings. Meanwhile, Rachel looked like she was about to faint from sheer delight.
"You shouldn't read anyone's diary, you know!" Hermione told Xander admonishingly.
"Why not?" Xander challenged.
"Because it violates a person's privacy."
"What does violate mean?"
"Right now it means disturbing something."
"What's privacy?"
"The need to keep things for yourself," Hermione answered patiently, leading Ginny to believe that Hermione had already touched on the issue with Raina. Ginny wouldn't have been able to simplify the abstract concept of privacy so well for a child, and she filed it away for future use.
"You've disturbed Rachel's need to keep things for herself, and that's wrong," Hermione continued. "It's wrong because you made her very upset by doing it. Now maybe you don't understand why she's so upset about it, but that doesn't matter. Writing in that diary and keeping it a secret meant a lot to her. You don't like it when people do things to you that upset you, right?"
Xander shrugged.
Hermione's eyebrows went up. "Oh? You wouldn't be upset if you mum and dad took away all your toys?"
"Why take my toys away?"
"If they hear that you read Rachel's diary…" Hermione trailed off, letting Xander connect the dots himself.
"You won't tell, will you?" Xander asked fearfully.
"No, but Rachel might."
Xander turned to his sister. "You won't tell on me, will you?"
"As long as you promise never to read my diary again," Rachel said absently, briefly surprising Ginny with her leniency. Then it occurred to Ginny that Rachel's senses were close to overloading due to her proximity to Robert, impairing coherent thought. Or maybe she realised that she wouldn't be holding hands with the boy of her dreams if it hadn't been for her pesky little brother. That could cause a girl to be very forgiving as well.
"I swear!"
"What about an apology?" Hermione pressed.
"I'm really sorry," Xander said, with a remorseful puppy dog look that that would thaw the coldest of hearts. Gudrun's warning certainly hadn't been exaggerated. Whether he was being deliberate or not, Xander really was a little charmer, and would probably become a heartbreaker too later on in life. Nathan, on the other hand, was more like his uncle and namesake. He was polite and well-behaved, only getting in trouble while trying to get his little brother out of it.
"Whew, just in time," an excited voice squeaked, and soon Rosie dashed onto the balcony, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw her best friend and her cousin sitting together and holding hands. She beamed a smile at Rachel and Robert and signalled unsubtly with two thumbs up, causing both of them to flush red and stare at the burgundy carpeted floor. Jasmine soon appeared as well, followed by fourteen-year-old Charlie Junior, who reluctantly dragged his feet as he followed his mother. His expression suggested that he thought he was there for a funeral.
Ginny's heart went out to him. She knew what it was like to have unrequited feelings for someone, though his chances had been much slimmer than hers from the very beginning and had practically been shattered when the love of his life got pregnant by his unwitting rival. Well, probably not so unwitting, since one of Nicolai's personalities was an expert at reading facial expression and body language, not matter how subtle. But Ginny doubted if Mary knew that Charlie had nourished a pre-adolescent crush on her at age ten, which grew into more as hormones were factored into the equation, and that despite Oopsie's birth. Rosie sat down next to Westley, and Jasmine now completed the row on the second bench, which now nearly completely full, occupied by four adults and four children. Turning around to see where Charlie was at, Ginny saw him slumped way back on the fourth bench.
"Why aren't you sitting with the groom's family?" Heidi asked Jasmine.
"Same reason you didn't take the boys to sit with the groom's family. I don't know anyone there. Besides, Elena's three sisters brought their husbands, their daughters with their husbands, and their grandchildren—you know how Italians are. And along with Aria and 'The Buccafusca Godmother', the groom's balcony is packed. Heck, they've even squeezed in one of Nicolai's uncles—a non-criminal illegitimate son of Ivan the Impaler's—and his wife and daughter."
Ginny took a good look at the balcony across there and saw that there had to be at between forty and fifty people crammed on four benches and a handful of extra chairs. She saw Aria and a massive puffy-cheeked older woman sitting in the middle of the front bench. There were still two open spots next to Aria, and Ginny assumed that they was being held for Elena and Ironheart.
"Excuse me, is this the bride's family's balcony?"
As one, everyone turned to the source of the unfamiliar voice with a funny accent. It was tall man with grey hair and a moderately trimmed grey beard, wearing an old-fashioned and decidedly Muggle black suit. Her father had bough a second-hand one once, and if Ginny remembered correctly, it was called a tailcoat. He looked somehow familiar.
"That's right. And who might you be?" Heidi asked.
Ginny saw Jasmine's eyes focus on the man in the same way that Harry's focussed on people when he was scanning their thoughts. Less than in second later, her sister-in-law gasped. "No, that's impossible. Gudrun's Muggle-born!"
The man nodded. "That is what she was categorised as. However, I am not sure the term is fitting, even if her mother is a Muggle and her father a Squib. My name is Njall Magnusson. Though I haven't done much to deserve the title, I am Gudrun's father."
x
AUTHOR'S NOTE: There were a lot of outside references in this chapter. I'll disclaim them in the next chapter, but first I'd like to see whether they'll be spotted. ;-) And before anyone points it out to me, I do realise that the whole mineralogy monologue is out of character for Harry. This chapter is very long and packed with information, so you might have skimmed over the explanation I gave for the origin of Harry's knowledge. Now on to the review answers.
hootild: The gems are needed to make wands function better.
Gogirl: I think you meant to say that Holly transported Westley to the Earth Realm, right? Anyway, she didn't. She dropped him off at Shamballah and had Ironheart take him from there. As for pairing Westley up with Buttercup, I don't know. In case you haven't noticed, Buttercup has a lot of competition. ;-)
Lipton: Glad to see you think my insanity aides my creativity.
lluvatar: There!
Jake: Writing is therapeutic for me. I'm one of those people with an overactive imagination who talk to themselves. However, even since I started writing I seldom do so anymore. I guess it's the outlet I needed. So I mostly write for myself, though like most writers and wannabe writers like myself I have ego issues, which accounts for the review hunger.
Kristus Vesanus: Ah, the blessing.
ritter: I think your question was answered when you read the next chapter. As for whether he'll survive the story…
jibro: Not to worry. Harry will discover more powers.
Elric Magus: How did you like it?
Fragarach: I thought it was appropriate as well.
Saint Mike: I like to include a bit of philosophy into the stories every now and then.
Lady of Masbolle: Yes, the Brinell scale is very real, and it is much more accurate than the Moh scale when measuring a certain mineral's hardness.
Athena McGonagall: The reason for the time-jump is because 'not much' happens in the meantime. I guess I could have written about some of Wolfe's actions with the resistance fighters, but aside from that there was nothing to write about. Besides, the action chapters are drawing closer now. After Chapter 21 all hell will break loose! And about Wolfe being too noble for his own good, you have no idea…
Foxfur: LOL, isn't it a bit early to be thinking about triangles?
RinnaMarie: I'm still working on an idea for a novel and gathering information. I've only started doing so about a year ago. I am serious about writing a novel, but I have nothing concrete yet. I'll need to do a lot more reading and practicing before actually writing my own novel. Yeah, I know about the character excess, and I won't repeat the mistake in my potential original novel. I also realised that I need to limit the useless chit chat, but I reckon part of that will solve itself with fewer characters. It'll go a long way towards streamlining the story.
So you have a literary agent? Does that mean you're a published author?