XXI. Legacy
Making something that lasts, creating a ripple effect that lasts for centuries… that is something a villain with power can do. Depending on whether or not you've decided on things like Horcruxes, you may also have to consider legacy in the sense of the fruit of your loins, so to speak.
Speaking of, saving a person or winning their loyalty over completely can create a new generation of mooks- whether for a future you, or for your little Dark Lord/Lady in training.
The first island they hit on their crossing of the Pacific was Chilean, although some of its inhabitants might have preferred the descriptor Rapa Nui, even if the word for them in Spanish was pascuenses. In English? Easter Islanders.
The heads were interesting- and it turned out there were more than just heads. Apparently most of the photos of them Harry had seen were of half buried specimens. Overall, they still had huge heads, but they weren't just heads.
Poking around a bit revealed a small community, both magical and mundane. The isolation, with the isle being miles away from anywhere inhabited, making checkups by authorities difficult, led to a sort of… quiet understanding that a few people on the island were a bit unnatural. A good resource if you were in a tight spot, but not someone you brought up to outsiders without good reason. So of course that meant Harry had to jump through some hoops to get a conversation going with the island's magicians, but the end result was worthwhile, turning some of Harry's own assumptions on his head.
According to the magicians, there was a sort of… thing called mana. Harry got the distinct impression- through translation- that he didn't have a great understanding of it. It seemed to be a complex, sensitive force, something protected by a series of rules called tapus- the origin of the word taboo. Certain standards of behavior were expected, and Harry was of course trying to be a good guest.
It seemed as if the heads were in some way attached to the concept of mana, at least as far as Harry could tell. While the magicians weren't entirely sure, they believed that many of the heads were strategically toppled to deny mana to various parties in small, tribal conflicts. However, you couldn't just lift up a rock and expect mana out of nowhere- they had to be properly made and in a state of good repair. Considering many heads were tipped over and purposely cracked… well, depending on the statues- called moai- was a definite catch in their own magic system.
A few were left standing behind wards, and the magic they allowed was… odd. There was some pretty impressive healing stuff that they did (or helped the magicians do), but having mana was also believed to influence you. It was the other, spiritual half to sheer physical power, its presence closely linked to authority and sway.
The lecture was interesting- a lot more than some of the stuff he learned at Hogwarts- but Harry wasn't sure how well he'd implement it. Giant stone carvings of himself seemed tacky… he wasn't sure if statues of his own ancestors, or people like Sirius and Remus would work. Maybe? Of course, this assumed he could somehow execute whatever rituals were used to give the moai their mana properties.
Either way, Harry had checked off another tourist destination from his list. As they sailed away, Harry could see the backs of the moai statues, steadfast and constant in their staring inland. They had stood there, their backs to the sea and their eyes towards their people, for hundreds of years. The ones that were left and properly put into place, at least.
Palmyra Atoll was mostly unoccupied. Sure, the occasional government chap might stop by there just to check on it, or maybe an ambitious vacationer, but it wasn't really permanently settled. At the very least, that meant fewer potential witnesses to whatever paranormal shenanigans he got up to.
Both Harry and the Mermen were cheered by the tremendous amounts of coral- unsurprising, considering it was an atoll- which were magnificent to witness, even it made driving the ship a bit more of an issue. The isle was also flush with animals and plants that Harry had never seen before- with extreme caution, he took a few small samples of the plants, for Neville to investigate and to grow at home. He didn't think anyone would catch him… but no use spooking the lads too bad, right?
Well, the island may have managed that by itself, considering that he thought he spotted ghosts a few times… Still, none of them chose to interrupt as Harry and his werewolf companion walked around the island, hoping that the werewolf might be able to pick up some hint of the silver- if the treasure had silver. If it didn't, Harry would have to search for gold the magical way.
In a turn of events that Harry found pretty hilarious, the silver turned out to be buried- right under a United States military base that had been built during the second World War! Still, some careful magic let them tunnel their way under, to hit another motherlode. Gold and silver in significant amounts, although Harry set aside anything that looked like an Incan relic. He'd send it by mail to the magicals of Cusco or something.
But the gold coins? Other than a few to serve as display pieces… Harry would take them, and mete out the werewolves' fair share for helping him in his search. While they were smart enough to not go blabbing about looting treasure to any friends, they did make sure to inform any werewolf friends that they had that there was all the opportunity you could wish for on Doggerland, and a ruler who simply didn't care about their sickness.
Admittedly, Harry left most of the interviewing and paperwork to Margaret and the other vampires. Sure, he stopped by to like, officially greet them and all that sort of stuff, shake their hand and maybe show them around… He didn't even receive their 'I promise I won't kill anyone' oath personally, but still, he received more handshakes and heartfelt thank yous than he had received in… well actually he got a lot of those after killing Voldemort, so not the most he had received in his life, but the smiles on the werewolves' faces were definitely worth it.
While on the trip between Palmyra Atoll and Australia, Harry spent his time doing some final revisions on his book, with help from Astoria's mail. She turned out to be a surprisingly good critic, and raised several fair questions about things Harry had forgotten to mention in the book, but had taught to the vampires in person. Not to mention her calligraphy- presumably the result of her pureblood upbringing- which was so good, even in Parselscript, that Harry was a little jealous. Maybe he could get her permission to use some of her handwriting in the book? Her first few attempts weren't exactly grammatically coherent, but damn if they weren't pretty.
He also got a few more hints on the conundrum that was her health condition. It was some sort of curse- which threw a delightful wrench into things, as always- cast upon an ancestor that basically reappeared. That did make Harry wonder if it was hereditary or how the curse chose its victims… he wasn't even entirely sure if he could destroy it down to the root, so to speak. Was it ingrained too deep in the Greengrass line? Would… would changing their last name work? Of course, asking a pureblood to change his last name would gall them, without a doubt, and they probably wouldn't be too happy about carrying the name on through adoption instead of blood...
However the curse ended up targeting her; it certainly had an impact, and Astoria was suffering from some of the very first stages already. She was apparently young and fit enough now to keep most of the weakness away, but as time went on, even a good diet and exercise wouldn't be enough to stop the slow wasting that would eat away at her frame. Harry would admit the cruelty of the curse made him extremely angry, and gave him even more reason to find a cure.
No real results of anything like it from the library, unfortunately… but Harry knew that it was a curse somehow carried in, or related to the blood. That gave him a few ideas to work with… but he knew that he would almost certainly be facing opposition from her parents and sister. Completely understandably, they probably wouldn't want medical incompotent Harry Potter screwing around with Astoria's health.
Still, Astoria had said she was working on getting her parents to give Harry a shot- she hoped that showing them the Parseltongue skills she got from the book might be enough of an indicator of Harry's skill that they would be willing to give her a chance. If not… well, Astoria would be an adult by wizarding standards pretty soon, and from there she could give it a shot. Of course, she made it clear she wasn't going to tolerate Harry giving anything less than his best either way.
Planning for her disease and treating it took up quite a bit of Harry's time, but once he got there, Harry did manage to have a bit of fun in Australia. After looking around Sydney and that incredible opera house, he started hearing rumors about some sort of big cat roaming in the Blue Mountains nearby… so he figured he could try tracking it.
He would say that, at the time, Harry thought attempting to track the Lithgow Panther by smell in his Nagual puma form was a good idea. Fortunately- or perhaps unfortunately- he did find his quarry in the form of a vicious looking panther… of course, getting into a fight with said panther was completely and totally unplanned. Harry did limp away to tell the tale, and closed the wounds with Parselmagic, but it turned out that people got a lot of pictures of him in puma form, and were fairly convinced that he was the Lithgow Panther, or at least one of several. Great.
Of course, there was a lot more to Australia than cities near the coast, and Harry once again felt the deep urge to be a tourist and gawk at impressive sights. Flying over the Outback on a broom was definitely pretty interesting. Finding his way to Uluru took a bit of careful navigation, but seeing that great rise of stone lit up by the rising sun was a marvel.
However, there was one minor problem with his trip to Australia: the weather. It was winter in the Northern Hemisphere, but in the Southern… it certainly wasn't. It was summer, in the Outback. Suffice it to say that Harry made great use of water charms.
He wasn't entirely sure how people lived out here, although living underground probably helped with that issue a little bit. It was while considering the logistics of entirely underground towns and how he might be able to apply some of those lessons to his castle that Harry spotted something unusual in the sands: wetness. Sure, the sand was already drying under the hot sun…
But it was odd. It was almost like a dried up river or something, some six or seven meters wide and stretching from horizon to horizon, a sort of wet ditch. Of course, Harry was interested, and he flew up to see which way to go, following the path in the direction that looked more wet. Presumably, that was the cause of this whole thing.
As Harry got closer and closer to the mysterious source, flying his broom as quickly as he possibly could, the little channel thing got even more wet, more damp, until the ditch become something more like a channel or small stream.
The source of that water? A snake. Easily the biggest Harry had ever seen, so large that it made the Basilisk look small, its sides glimmering with every color of the rainbow. It was definitely a striking sight, the variegated scales glinting beautifully thanks to the water that coated them.
Some part of Harry thought it was a little like the snake was sweating or something and that it was moderately gross, but somehow he knew that water was as fresh and clean as you could get it. The snake wasn't just some weird magical animal- or at the the very least, it was a cut above the usual. A very large cut above the usual.
Cautiously, Harry flew next to it, passing by the great rainbow flanks and eventually making his way up to the creature's eye. He waved, and tried to start a conversation. "Hello?"
No response. Harry tried other greetings, even going as far as to greet it in Nahuatl and Maya, but no dice. The snake kept on trucking regardless of what Harry did, and eventually Harry wondered if it even saw him… so he flew up close and brushed a hand against the shimmering scales.
Suddenly, Harry was at his first Quidditch match, the Snitch struggling in his mouth. He was in his castle's Quidditch pitch, a laughing boy with purple hair close behind him. He was dodging Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement, centuries of history turning into so much smoke around him. He was playing in front of cheering crowds, whether composed of hundreds or just some Veela and werewolves. He was playfully tossing a ball back and forth with a boy, a boy with unkempt black hair and eyes he couldn't quite catch a glimpse of.
Harry barely even realized he had fallen from his broom and crashed on the desert floor. He slept under the burning sun, and had strange dreams of snakes, of rain clouds and flooding, dust and drought.
Harry awoke to a sky spangled with stars, and a series of aches and pains from spending his day cooking on the hot ground. Rising to his feet, Harry looked around and realized the great trail in the desert that the snake had left was already gone. Interesting, even if it meant he had no real proof of the rainbow serpent other than his own memory. Of course, his word was actually pretty highly regarded now, what with him being a prince and all that nonsense.
Before he could start wondering what the hell just happened, or before he could start gathering evidence, he had to handle his thirst. He was painfully sunburned and his throat was nearly as dry as the outback he had spent the day cooking in, so he pulled out his staff, intent on making himself a bit of a watering hole or something… before a fat drop of rain landed on his head.
Looking up, he could see that the sky, which had been clear mere moments ago, was now intensely cloudy… just above him. And it was starting to pour. He slaked his thirst with the rainwater, literally just needing to open his mouth and look up, before realizing the rather obvious fact that rain clouds didn't just pop into existence like that.
Quickly, Harry came to the conclusion that he had somehow caused that… but while he liked to think of himself as being pretty good with weather magic, there were quite a few steps between being capable of whipping up a storm with intense concentration and a staff versus seeming just willing it into existence (even if he was touching his staff).
The only conclusion Harry could draw, if the weather was caused by him and not some freak coincidence, was that he had received another blessing from a hyper-powerful snake. The Rainbow Serpent, in addition to giving him glimpses into the past and what Harry thought was a possible future, had given him some greater magical understanding of the weather. It didn't talk to him, unfortunately, but perhaps that was for the best. That snake… was unreal. It was probably evidence in the Quetzalcoatl being some sort of god/exceedingly powerful entity camp, considering the evident power of the Rainbow Serpent to shape the landscape as it pleased.
As he made his way back towards civilization, in hopes of finding a magician who could explain what had happened to him, Harry pondered the last vision of the future he had. A boy, with messy black hair, just like his… Harry's boy? His… son? It seemed possible, if that was a vision of the future. Of course, he didn't have much evidence about who a potential mother could be… but it got him thinking.
It wasn't as if he was against having a kid, even if he felt wildly unprepared for anything more than the cool godfather/uncle sort of role he played for Teddy. Well, he supposed that he was basically the closest thing to a father figure Teddy has...
Still, the idea of raising his own little heir to Doggerland spooked Harry. Well, he was certain that he would be surrounded by people who would want to help, but that didn't make the prospect any less intimidating.
Technically speaking, if Harry remembered his DADA correctly, half vampires were possible- they were called dhampirs- even though conceiving one was apparently a bit… trickier, so to speak. A definite yes for both werewolves and Veela, as well...
XXII. Flexibility
A willingness to adapt is another useful talent for a villain to have, as well as a willingness to look at problems from unconventional perspectives. Perhaps those still trapped in the old mode of thought will consider your departure from it evil- but if you think outside the box, you can't get trapped in it either.
The crew were plotting a course that would take them in the direction of Japan, with some quick stops along the way in the Philippines. Some part of Harry did eventually want to circle back around and check out Indonesia, while he was in the area, but he figured he'd have time for that once he finished up with his investigations of the East China Sea area. The crew were more than happy to have spent a little time in Botany Bay- to them, this whole Australia business was completely novel, considering that their old ship sunk just a few decades after Cook charted the shores of Australia.
With that in mind, Harry decided to go back home for a bit- both to regale everyone with tales of Polynesia and Australia, to check on Teddy, and to continue his tradition of going on minor side trips, this time choosing Ireland as a target.
Once again, he wasn't entirely sure if he'd find anything of actual value, but it was worth an investigation. Of course, there was the usual touristy stuff that he spent a bit of time doing, like checking out the Giant's Causeway and pressing his lips to the Blarney Stone (he didn't feel like a better conversationalist afterwards, but who knew); however, there was one major reason behind this entire trip: Harry was searching for the fae.
Ideally, Harry didn't want to bump into a banshee or something, but seeing a non harmful member of the Fair Folk sounded interesting. Maybe it would even give him a lead on the whole Treasures of Britain situation? They were, as far as Harry could tell, tangled up in the whole Arthurian mess, considering the fact that Morgan le Fay quite literally meant Morgan the Fairy. Whether this was actually true or just people associating a powerful magician with the fairies… Harry was unsure, but willing to find out.
Still, there wasn't much that he could really do to find fairies other than maybe look for their rings or mounds, and that meant going into the backcountry. The Irish- or at least, a non-insignificant portion of them- still respected the fae, making sure not to pave over their rings or circles. They were a bit more aware than wizards gave them credit for, admittedly.
It was while exploring the Irish countryside that he bumped into someone he hadn't seen in a while: Luna Lovegood. She seemed to be searching the countryside as well, although for what, Harry couldn't guess.
"Getting out of magical Britain before the coup? Very good idea, Harry."
"What coup?" He knew he was probably going to get an odd answer, but Harry asked anyways.
"Why, the changelings, of course." How topical.
"So the faeries have already infiltrated the government?"
Luna nodded. "They might be throwing off the scent by cracking down on non-humans, you know? It's the last thing you'd expect from changelings, right?"
"It's a possibility, I guess…" Harry said. "Are you looking for fairies too?"
"You're supposed to call the Fair Folk, Harry- and yes, I am. Father wants me to get to the root of this fairy situation."
After a second, Harry realized something. "Shouldn't you be in Hogwarts now?"
Luna got a distinctly uncomfortable look on her face, and Harry remembered that while he was off hunting Horcruxes, she got to see Voldemort's cronies attempt to turn the castle into a Death Eater factory. Before getting kidnapped on the way home. Maybe not wanting to return was fair.
After a bit of searching with Luna, she eventually led him to a hill, or more properly a mound. Some stones ringing the bottom seemed to hint that it might have once been a ringfort or something similar, at least from the muggle point of view.
He and Luna poked around it a bit, not entirely sure what they were looking for. Was it some sort of portal-like thing? Did it need to be activated, and could they reasonably activate it?
Harry saw it first: a hole between the stones, small enough to get through if you crawled… but as best as Harry could describe it, the hole (or whatever lurked inside) was deeply, passionately misanthropic. Humans weren't supposed to go there. So obviously, Harry transformed into a puma and went on inside. The tunnel was long and twisting, doubling back over and over again, going deeper and deeper… until eventually Harry went from climbing up to climbing down so smoothly he barely even noticed.
Eventually, he saw sunlight at the end of the end of the tunnel, and Harry climbed out to find something completely unfamiliar. Despite the fact that it should have been somewhat chilly- it being winter and all that- the place he climbed into was sunlit and warm, filled with flowers and trees that shone like metal in the bright light.
There was something fundamentally… off about the place, something that sent the rational, non-puma part of his mind tingling, and he suddenly knew that if he was in human form he wouldn't be in anything approaching the relatively sound state of mind he was in now. The air was too sweet, the meadow too idyllic… The part of him that was a cat was deeply tempted to just sit down and sun in the warm light.
Carefully, Harry took a look around- and realized that he nearly missed someone sneaking up on him. He bore his fangs at the woman who approached him- while she was beautiful, there was something… off about her. The lines of her face were too fair, the ears too long, and the eyes… Harry couldn't properly describe the eyes. By the time a proper descriptor came to his mind, they already looked completely different. She reached out to give him a pat, but he retreated from her touch, trying to keep the location of the cave in his mind.
"Must you truly behave like that?" She complained, her voice harmonious like song.
Harry nodded and she sighed in response before rushing over to one of the nearby trees- one with bark like silver and apples like gold- and snapping off a branch. She held it out to him. "How about a trade, then?"
Admittedly, Harry was interested, even if the puma-brain found the idea of fruit exceptionally boring. If he had found his way into… fairyland? Tir na Nog? Whatever it was called, presumably the plants they grew would be the good stuff. Cautiously, he took the bough in his mouth as the woman- almost certainly some sort of fae- smiled and ruffled his fur.
"That wasn't too hard now was it?" She smiled. "Now I suggest you hurry back home, friend. Our visitors tend to get so dreadfully upset when they realize how long they've stayed… like poor Oisin…"
Harry connected the dots pretty quickly, and if he was in human form, he probably would have paled horribly. He wasn't sure if he remembered the story of Oisin correctly, but he was pretty sure it involved a man visiting Tir na Nog, returning to his homeland, and returning to hear that ages had passed while he was among the fae. So long, in fact, that when he stepped off his horse, he either aged into an old man… or turned to ash. Something like that, neither option being good.
Whatever the case, Harry didn't really want to find out. He was pretty sure the fairy waved goodbye as he dove into the hole, the branch clasped tightly in his mouth, every step only making it seem heavier as he ascended. He had promised himself he wouldn't pull a Sirius, but here he was!
When Harry burst from the little whole in the side of the fairy mound, he did not turn into ash. In fact, his puma form felt about as whole and healthy as it did when he first went inside- although he had to drop the bough from his mouth, which had definitely gotten a lot heavier. Looking around, he saw Luna sitting next to the whole, reading an issue of the Quibbler by wandlight. After a second, she looked up.
"Hello, Harry. You're back." Thankfully, she didn't seem horribly aged or anything.
Harry transformed back into his human form. "How long was I gone?"
She checked the time. "Oh, just about eight hours."
"And you stayed the entire time?"
"Of course I did." Harry couldn't help but embrace her, basically lifting her into the air. "Could you give me an interview?"
"Definitely." Harry set her down.
As Luna began to pepper him with questions about his extremely short stay in Fairyland/the Otherworld/Tir na Nog, he took another look at the bough he had brought back from that strange land.
When he picked it up, there was some definite heft to it, both the branch and the apples on it. In fact, as he lifted it one of the apples fell off… hitting the ground with a thunk, like something metallic. Picking it up and giving it another look, Harry realized the apple wasn't just particularly golden looking- it was actual gold.
Feeling more than a little embarrassed about not having invited Luna to the island beforehand, he proceeded to do just that. From there, he gave her the tour- she was quite amused by the whole thing, even if some of her questions, especially towards Harry's citizens, were sometimes a touch too probing.
Quietly, Harry steered her away from Agathe altogether. He didn't want Agathe to feel like he was handling her with kid-gloves, but Harry tried hard to let her do things on her own terms, especially when it came to meeting new people. Luna meant well, but her occasional lack of the finer social graces… well, Harry decided to exercise caution.
"And the mermen pay you tribute?"
"I'd prefer the word trade. We give them metal tools, they give us all the fish we could ever want."
"Would that count as arming the mermen and fomenting insurrection?"
"Well, it's not like I'm part of Britain anymore, right? Who am I revolting against?"
Luna nodded. "I'll mark that down as mermen armies for self defense, then."
Harry even let Luna take a few pictures, where he thought it would be fitting. He didn't want the whole world to know every last inch of the castle, but he did let her take photos of him posing at the Quidditch Pitch, along with some of the less… sensitive historical artifacts. Luna made sure to grab several pictures of the silver branch that Harry had acquired from Tir na Nog. At her suggestion, he had planted it in a patch of dirt in one of the greenhouses… and unbelievably, the apple that fell off the branch (an apple which was made of solid gold, mind you) seemed to have made room for another one to grow.
It was while Luna was taking notes on the mermen's habit of fishing up relics that Margaret bumped into them. She gave a sharp, vampire-toothed smile, one that Harry had basically gotten used to by now. "Good master- I do not think I've had the pleasure of being introduced to thy friend…"
"Margaret, this is Luna Lovegood, a friend of mine, Luna, this is Margaret. She's my… "
"Harem member?"
Harry nearly choked, but Margaret seemed… a bit more calm than Harry expected? He'd ask her later. "Not quite. More like… well, not a secretary. Second in command, maybe?" Margaret seemed to stand a little straighter when he said that, at least.
"And do any of your vampires have plans to turn key members of the Ministry into vampires as part of a counter-coup?" Margaret seemed kind of lost- which was a fairly typical reaction to Luna.
"For now, I plan on leaving the Ministry well enough alone, unless they do something phenomenally stupid. Which is… definitely possible."
A bit afterwards, it seemed that Luna had gotten her fill of slightly uncomfortable questions answered and photographs taken (or perhaps she was just getting tired?), so Harry brought her back to the mainland, before returning for a conversation with Margaret. Admittedly, her first question wasn't quite what he expected.
"I am afraid I did not fully comprehend the meaning of some of the words she used- is the harem not just the portion of a Muslim house reserved for the women and children?"
Harry inhaled. "Well, one man might have multiple wives in a single harem, right…? What do you think people focus on?"
"Oh." Margaret said, her expression… complicated. "Thy friends should be more respectful of thy royal person." She huffed.
"They're my friends." Harry shrugged. "I'd be more disappointed if they started treating me differently just because of that. I mean… I'm just Harry."
Margaret was tempted to argue against that statement. Some things hadn't changed- the bravery, the tendency to get in a bit over his head but somehow come out alright, the earnest desire to be alone… but perhaps it was her own perspective on monarchies clouding her judgement. Prince Harry was powerful. He held sway over an entire island… but maybe he had been like that before.
"That reminds me- could I make my friends knights, or something?"
Margaret nodded. She could do this, at least. "Yes, thou could- at thine pleasure. The prince makes the rules…"
A note on titles: to make a long rant short, the title Prince can mean a ruler of a Principality, no relation to a king necessary, and this is the meaning I used for Harry. It is used in such a way in the Declaration of Independence and in Machiavelli's The Prince, where the title means something more like sovereign or ruler, not relative of a king. I will spare you any more ranting on this subject, for fear of scaring off non-history nerds
I will also refrain from a prolonged historical rant about the Orientalist underpinnings of the western conception of the harem.
The visions Harry gets from the rainbow serpent are my slightly clumsy attempts to integrate ideas of the Dreamtime (as I understand it) into the serpent. From what I understand there is an idea of everywhen that plays a role in Dreamtime, which is analogous to everywhere, but for time instead of place. Brushing against the serpent essentially gave Harry a tiny glimpse into many different whens other than just the one he was in, with broomsticks being the common theme. If that makes sense.