THANK YOU TO ALL MY LOYAL READERS WHO PUT UP WITH MY BULLSHIT!
Okay, so, for those of you who don't follow my Tumblr, I'll give an explanation for the lack of updates.
When I started this story, and for a majority of the time I was working on it, I was unemployed. Two months ago, I finally found a job, and began working. Most of my free time outside of work is taken up by babysitting my youngest little sister and my baby cousin, which means I'm not able to work on this story as much as I'd like. Not being able to work on it much means not being able to update much either.
I do have one more chapter already written besides this one, which I will post on Friday. The chapter after that is incomplete, and as a result, updates from that point on will be spotty, because you'll be getting the chapters as they're finished. I'm really sorry about this, but when it comes down to it, real life comes first.
Now that that's out of the way, let's move on.
First, you'll notice our cover picture has changed. The new image is courtesy of the wonderful Mirthfulmalady, and is an image of the forest scene with Harry in his animagus form, and the twins as wolves.
Next, this chapter goes over a bit of the things Harry is learning, some of his fears, some hints about Loki, interactions with Tom and Lady Sif, and politics and policies back in the wizarding world. It was an interesting chapter to write, and I hope you all enjoy it.
Here we go.
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As Harry lay stomach to the ground, a powerful (and heavy) Asgardian woman atop him with her knee buried in the small of his back, and her hands pinning his arms painfully behind him, his own knees and elbows badly scraped, body covered in bruises, and a sharp pain in his side that suggested the need to visit the medical ward for a cracked rib; he wondered what lunacy could possibly have made him agree to train with Sif. Clearly this crush of his had made him lose his thrice damned mind. A moment later, with a sigh, she let him go. He groaned with the relief of his arms being free. Fighting her was difficult enough given her immense strength and clearly better skill, but he was distracted also, with constantly moving his tail so as to keep her and it from touching. It cost him valuable time, and he couldn't focus all his attention on the fight itself.
He rolled over, wincing as his side pained him again. Yes, he would definitely need to go see Healer Eir after this. Sif stood, arms crossed and hip tilted, looking down at him with a raised brow.
"When you told me you were inexperienced, I did not think you were this terrible."
"It's not my fault you're freakishly strong." He was much stronger than any human being, but Sif far outstripped him, and unlike Loki, she didn't appear to feel any need to hold back. He was worried his comment would offend her, but couldn't keep himself from spitting it out in frustration. Instead though, her lip quirked.
"Perhaps you are just weaker than you think." She declared smugly, and he glared petulantly at her, crush brushed aside in the face of a perceived insult.
"I'm not weak." She grinned outright then, and offered her hand to help him up. He took it after another bad-tempered look at her.
"I did not say that you were, but you are certainly no Asgardian." He felt bitter at that, sour inside, and slightly ashamed, and he didn't know why. "But that does not mean you cannot face and beat an Asgardian in battle. You fight with a sword, yes?"
"Yea."
"Have you ever considered another weapon?" He blinked at her.
"I, um, I have a dagger. I don't use it much mind you, but I have it." She rolled her eyes at him.
"I meant something other than a simple blade." His brow creased, and he shook his head. "I expected as much. I think you should give the spear a try."
"A spear?" He questioned, surprised.
"Yes. A spear gives you leverage. You can use it to take down opponents who are stronger than yourself, and, those who are larger." She gestured to his smaller height, and he frowned. "It is a mid-range weapon. You can keep your enemy from getting too close to you, so they don't have the opportunity to take you down, and, if they do get past your spear, you can have your sword ready still." He nodded slowly. It... Made sense, he supposed. His sword alone (and his magic, of course), had been enough when fighting against normal humans and wizards, but nowadays, finding himself in a world among gods, and mutants, and aliens, it wasn't enough by itself, not anymore; especially not for as long as he was stuck keeping his true body, and his animagus form, a secret from the world (worlds?) at large. Those were advantages he couldn't really afford to use right now, which meant he would have to work around them where he could, and keep them as the aces up his sleeves for when he could afford to use them.
"Alright."
"But we will still need to train your body. You can use your spear, and your sword, but if you are caught unarmed, or if your opponent manages to unarm you, you cannot afford to be as defenseless as you were against myself." He looked away from her, a bad taste in his mouth. "Come. We can start today." He started.
"But I need to-" He began, thinking of the stitch in his side. She waved a hand.
"You can lick your wounds later. Come." He grit his teeth and followed her across the training ground, towards an area where several warriors were on the ground doing push-ups, and once again he asked himself what had possessed him to agree to this.
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He fell against his bed with a groan. By the end of the morning, Sif had practically had to carry him to healer Eir, as exhausted as he was. He wasn't sure what was worse; the embarrassment of being dragged around by the woman he liked, or nearly breaking under the strain of training while said woman (training right alongside him) hardly broke a sweat. It bothered him for more reasons than he was comfortable thinking about just then, so instead of thinking, he revelled in the feeling of the soft fur-covered bed he was face-down on, closing his eyes and resolving to take a nice long nap. The bed dipped, and he groaned.
"Whatever it is, come back later." There was a shift, and a familiar chuckle.
"Have fun with your girlfriend?"
"She's not my girlfriend." He grumbled, not even having the energy to blush. Muhammad snickered at him, and a moment later a hand was rubbing the animagus' back, easing the aches and tension there. He sighed in relief.
"You're trying too hard, you know. You don't have to do this just to impress a girl."
"It's not about that."
"Oh really?" The sarcasm was palpable.
"Well, it's not just about that."
"What is it then?"
"Loki."
"You've lost me." A green eye cracked open and regarded the Arab tiredly.
"When we fought in New York, the only reason he didn't annihilate me was because he was holding back a lot."
"Annihilate is an awfully big word."
"Fuck off." He rolled his eyes, and hissed as Moo's fingers worked into a particularly uncomfortable knot. "My point is, if something bad should happen, or if Loki should get out and turn on everyone, or if Odin should betray us, we don't stand a chance; not against him or any other Asgardian."
"I sort of figured we were outclassed when we found ourselves in a world of gods." Harry hummed in agreement, something about those words tickling the back of his mind. He brushed it aside.
"The point is, I want to make sure I can protect you guys. You and Fred and George, and everyone back on Earth. I want to make sure I stand a chance against anyone who might try to hurt you lot."
"You do realize it's usually the job of the older members of a family to do the protecting?"
"I'm stronger than you though, as far as magic and physical strength goes." Mentally, his father was probably the strongest of them, and emotionally Muhammad had him beat. He was hardly the smartest (that was Bruce, certainly), or the most cunning (probably the twins, together they could out-smart Severus on occasion), either, but he knew that, and he knew where his advantages lay. Moo said nothing. "If it comes down to a fight, I stand a better chance of meeting an Asgardian head-on than the rest of you."
"Do you think they would hurt us?" The Arab asked in a lowered voice.
"No, but I've been wrong before, so I want to make sure we're prepared in case I am again." Muhammad paused in the movement of his hands, and met his gaze for a moment, then continued, nodding.
"So we need an end-game."
"Yea."
"Alright then."
A few minutes later, Harry fell asleep as the last of his tense muscles were worked over, and his brother watched on, a worried frown on his lips.
He dreamed of the centaurs.
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His eyes opened on a memory, with the afternoon light creeping past the drapes.
"The stars speak that you are to walk beside gods, and yet such a thing..."
He sat up. The room was dark with the curtains closed over his windows, but he didn't wave them open or command the lights to turn on. Instead he stared into the dim room thoughtfully. Bane had warned him, had told him that he would go to Asgard without saying it outright. The stars...
He sighed to himself, stood up, and as he began to ready himself for the evening's meeting with Loki, he wondered if there was a god or goddess of fate, and what he might do to them if he met them.
He was in a strange mood when he arrived in the dungeons, sans Tom this time, and he sat quietly in his chair. Loki was reading, and his book, it seemed, was interesting enough that he did not immediately notice Harry's presence. The animagus looked over the trickster's features, and was reminded of his father.
He missed Severus, and Bruce, more than anyone else. It didn't feel right to be here without them, to be in this interesting, beautiful place. They should be here, but in his father's case, someone had needed to stay behind to keep an eye on things; that is, to look after the house, and Oddball (who Harry was originally planning to send off), and to keep an ear open for the goings-on back in London. He would also be there to ready Bruce to act as Harry's proxy if a full wizengamot meeting was called. Such a thing had not occurred in all of their travels, but with Harry out of reach, if it did, he could sit on the seat in place of Lord Black, since he was, in fact, the only other legally recognized member of the Black family (through Harry's adoption of him) who was not dead or a woman married out. It wasn't a detail Bruce was aware of, really, but Severus would fill him in and teach him the basics if need be. Besides that, Lucius also held a wizengamot seat, and was well versed in the political arena. Harry trusted him to look after his older brother if such an event arose.
Not that he thought it would. Wizengamot meetings were only called into effect to review major laws and changes in policy, and this happened only every five or ten years or so. There were other meetings, of course, for minor changes and court cases, but wizengamot members could attend those at their leisure, or not bother, like Harry. He was not a politician by any means, and he didn't think it was right besides that, to have influence over the government of a country he no longer lived in; especially when (so long as Severus was a wanted man there) he had no intention of moving back for any great length of time.
Lost in his thoughts, it took the snap of Loki closing his book for Harry, with a jerk, to realize he had finally been noticed.
"Distracted today, are we?"
"Tired, mostly." Loki frowned slightly, and stood from his fur to come and sit closer to the glass. Harry sat still as Loki's eyes roved over him.
"Are you well?"
"I'm fine. I just didn't realize how difficult Asgardian training was." He spoke wryly. The god's brows rose high on his head.
"You're training? With whom? Thor?" The way he could say his brother's name without sneering spoke of the progress that had been made (though through Harry's visits, or Thor's, he didn't know).
"Lady Sif, actually." High spots of color appeared on his cheeks against his will, and Loki's eyes narrowed. There was an odd, suspicious look on his face, which Harry could not quite place the reason for.
"You enjoy her company?" His tone was polite, if slightly distanced (as it often was when Sif or the warriors three came up, though slightly less so with the former), but there was something... off, about the look in his eyes.
"I do, yes. She's an interesting person."
"And beautiful as well, of course." Harry looked away, knowing the game was up.
"She is, yes." He agreed quietly, conscious of the guards behind him, and made uncomfortable by their presence in a way he usually was not (the past couple months he had worked himself into a place of hardly seeing them, marking them in his mind as something that was just there, like a part of the scenery, at least while he was in the dungeon).
"A bit of advice, Harry." The animagus looked up. "It would not do for you to get too attached to someone you do not know well." Harry frowned. What was...
"I guess that's why I should work at getting to know people better then, isn't it?" Loki shook his head slightly, as though he thought Harry foolish. The wizard bristled, but then-
"Have you made much progress with the book I recommended?" The change in topic was sudden, but Harry took it for the olive branch for their not-argument that it was.
"Some, yes." The smallest hint of his annoyance still colored his voice. "I wanted to ask you about one of the concepts. It says you have to shape your magic into a thin, moldable layer of light, but I don't understand how I'm supposed to-"
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The spear was annoying. He was supposed to wield it partly like a staff, partly like a sword, and the rest of the way in a manner that no other weapon was used. It was such a simple looking thing, just a semi-heavy length of a metal pole that had an arrowhead-like point at one end; too short to be a pike, but similarly built. It was, from the bottom of the pole to the beginning of the spearhead, just a forearm longer than he was tall, with the spearhead then adding on a bit of extra height.
It felt awkward and uncomfortable in his hands, too big and with too much of a swinging weight. His scimitar, even from the beginning, when he picked it up and held it while in Bellatrix's vault, had felt right. It felt like it belonged in his hand, and, after having worked with it so much, it was now, when he wielded it, like an extension of his arm; completely natural. But the spear...
He disliked it.
Intensely.
-And after the seventh time Sif tried to show him how to use it properly, and he couldn't even manage the most basic stances without the spear swinging more widely than he wanted, or not being able to stand and move correctly without feeling as though a strong gust of wind would knock him over, he threw it down in disgust.
"No more." He hissed at her through his teeth, his interest in her buried under his quickly rising agitation. She frowned at him, and he could see her ready to argue as she opened her mouth. He cut her off. "I refuse to use a weapon so- so- infuriating!" He jut his chin out stubbornly, and she rolled her eyes at him.
"You are simply not trying hard enough. These things take time and much practice. The more you-"
"No. It doesn't feel-" He faltered, not knowing how to explain to her that the spear just felt, wrong, in his hands, and waved his hands in frustration. She gave him a look that said she understood even without a proper explanation, and she put a hand on his shoulder.
"The spear is not always an easy weapon to master." She told him kindly. "You are simply..." She paused. "You fight like a stone, all hard motions, you need to fight like water; less stiffness and more flow. You need to move more." He did move though. He was always twisting around, ducking and dodging, and when he was in a spell-fight, he would run and circle his opponent and-
Oh. His eyes lit up in understanding. He moved a lot, yes, but outside of a spell-based battle, he didn't move his feet much. He tried to stay grounded and solid, because that was how Mahdi had taught him to battle with his sword. When swinging a blade, you needed a solid foundation. But with a spear, maybe...
Maybe he needed to treat the spear like a solid spell.
...Or something like that anyways. It made sense to him, though probably not to anyone else if he tried to explain it.
He nodded sharply, a new sort-of understanding about him, and hefted the long spear so it was nearly horizontal in his hands, with the shaft crossed slightly over his stomach, so the tip was in line with his hip, and not pointing straight out. It was the defensive position she had taught him, saying he would need to cultivate a strong defense before they worked too much on offense.
Facing him, a few paces away, Sif wielded something that looked like a flattened club. It was, essentially, a roughly-carved wooden sword. With it she could strike him without killing him.
Of course, as he had quickly learned, that did not mean she couldn't cause him a good deal of pain with it. The aches in his sides where she kept getting through his defenses were proof enough of that.
He waited a moment, steadying the spear. That, at least, he was good at. He was strong enough to keep the long weapon from wobbling too much, even while holding it with one hand, the way she was teaching him to do. She told him he would need to switch to both hands at times, but that he would want, the rest of the time, to be capable of drawing and utilizing his sword at a moment's notice, and she was still teaching him some hand-to-hand, in the breaks they took between spars, showing him good stances and techniques that she had yet to allow him to fully put into practice. He nodded calmly at her to show he was ready, and then she was moving.
Even holding back a little, as he could tell she was, Sif was very fast. In the space of a blink, she was closer, her false sword swinging at him. He brought the spear up quickly, bracing his other hand against it as he blocked her blow. He let the force of it push him a step back (a motion he didn't fight against) and then stepped to the side and twisted the spear upwards. He did it quickly, while she was still putting force into her weapon. The wooden sword slid against the side of the spear, headed towards the ground now that it had lost purchase. He swung the spear to the side, at her head, and stopped the motion just before it hit her. Technically that was offensive, but he had seen the opening, and hadn't been able to resist.
She smiled proudly at him, and as a little octopus began dancing around in his stomach, Harry smiled back, pleased with himself.
"Well done."
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"You've finished it then?"
"Yes. But I still don't understand. Or at least, I sort of do, but when I try to put the theory into practice..." Harry waved a hand helplessly. Loki nodded slowly at him as though he understood exactly what the problem was, even without the animagus going into detail. Harry supposed he did. He had to learn how to cast illusions himself at some point, after all, though the wizard wondered to himself just how long ago that had been.
"Explain to me what you've been doing, step by step." He was sat courteously on the floor of his prison again, though Harry, at the moment, was standing. He paced a little back and forth between his chair and the glass of the cell whilst the liesmith watched on, amused.
"Well, the book says to gather up your magic, and direct it outwards, and I don't have too much trouble with that, it just feels odd really, but it's been working how it's supposed to... I think. After that you're supposed to visualize what you want, like with transfiguration, and mold the magic into that image. It goes fine at first. I can visualize alright, and the image starts to build up, but then is just sort of... Fizzles out." He gesticulated with his hands as he spoke, and as he finished they flopped helplessly to his sides. Loki, who had been nodding along to his words, hummed.
"Show me. Try to create a simple illusion, say, of a vase." One of the guards shifted, but none of them spoke out. Harry's eyes narrowed in concentration, and he held his hands out, carefully pulling up his magic and attempting to wordlessly direct it into the visual form of a vase. Green light gathered on the floor, and started moving up, beginning to form a semi-transparent, vaguely vase-like form. Then, abruptly, it seemed to crack and fall apart, and the light vanished as Harry's magic, now without direction, returned to his body. He sighed in frustration.
"You've done well for the beginning," Loki proclaimed, the barest hint of surprise in his voice. "but you're not building the illusion properly, that's all. Here. Watch." He waved a hand, and slowly created an illusion inside his cell. Harry was certain that was for his own benefit. He had found out, a couple weeks ago, when Loki summoned one of his books to him from across his prison, that the trickster could still do magic (albeit only within the confines of his cell).
He watched carefully. Rather than building the illusion from the bottom upwards, Loki's magic (green like Harry's, but lighter in shade) spawned at several spots all at once, all at varying degrees of height and location, and then they reached out to one another. It looked almost like the magic was coating itself around something invisible. The moment it was done, the 'object' solidified, and there stood a large, ornate vase half as tall as the god himself, in twisting designs of gold and white.
"You see? Illusionary magic such as this is not like a building. A strong foundation might help with other areas of magic, but in this case, you want the magic spread as evenly as you can make it, which also means you cannot gather your magic at a single point. The magic will always be stronger in the spots where it starts, and will grow weaker the farther it spreads, until it's no longer strong enough to create the illusion. If you gather it at multiple places, then by the time it starts to grow too weak through spread, it has met another gathering of magic and replenished itself. Try again now using two spots to start with, top and bottom, and pay attention to what it does." Harry bit his lip, and did as instructed.
This time, the illusion still fell apart, but it built itself up much more. He got a lot farther in its creation, and despite it not forming fully before the magic came back to him, it still felt like an accomplishment. He grinned up at the liesmith. Loki grinned back.
"Well done. Keep practicing at it. Do only inanimate objects to begin with. Start small and work your way up. The larger the illusion, the more building points it needs. You'll get a feel for it as you go. Don't worry about speed just yet either, it comes with time. When you begin to excel at these sort of illusions, I'll show you how to make something that moves." Harry nodded sharply, excitement in his eyes.
He may never have been suited for Ravenclaw, but he still loved to learn new things.
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"So you think it was the moon itself?" Harry questioned, and the old King nodded.
"Aye. The moons and sun of a world have a great impact on the magic of it, and those who live upon it in turn." Odin rubbed at his chin. Harry tilted his head a bit, thinking it over. It was true. He knew the moon had a lot to do with both the harvesting, and the use, of many potions ingredients. It also impacted various rituals.
"So being on a different planet, with their curse being influenced by a different moon, is what caused their transformation to change so dramatically?" He hummed. "Then they'll go back to normal when we return?"
"Perhaps." Odin shifted, his armour creeking with him, and leaned forward to look down upon the training ground better. Thor was down there at the moment, sparing with Hogun, and the King of Asgard was observing his son. "Or perhaps the power of Asgard's moons will prove to be stronger. Perhaps they will change again once you return, and they will find their curse laying between what it once was, and what it is now."
"And we won't know for sure until the first full moon after our return." Harry clarified, and the god nodded his agreement. "Well, I guess it can't be helped. We'll just have to wait and see." There was a long moment of silence, and Harry watched Thor alongside the thunderer's father as he ducked under Hogun's sword and swung his hammer hard and fast down upon him. The Asian-looking god spun away from the blow, and sliced at Thor's side in a single, smooth movement. The blond was forced to block the attack with his arm bracer, not having time to dodge the quick movement.
"Thor tells me Loki has changed through his time in his confinement. He says he is not so angry now, and that they have laughed together as when they were boys." The King's blue eye fell on him. "He believes this is your doing." Harry frowned. He had been visiting Loki regularly, yes, but they hadn't really gotten into any of the trickster's issues; mostly because Harry wasn't fond of upsetting him more than he needed to, and because, with the bifrost bridge still a couple months away from completion, there was no rush. Really they just talked about magic, and Asgard, and Earth. Loki taught him things and occasionally told him stories (including the embarrassing one or two about Thor), and Harry told Loki stories in turn about Hogwarts and the Weasleys, and some of the Marauder's pranks (the one's he had read about in the ledger). They had become friends, but he didn't see how that would be enough to change a person.
... Except that he did. He remembered meeting Hagrid, remembered making his very first friend in the giant, and how big of an impact that had had on him. But he'd been alone. Loki had Thor, and- He stopped short. Did Loki have anyone but Thor? Did anyone but he and the thunderer visit him in his prison?
Would Thor have visited him at all, if Harry hadn't revealed the truth to him about Loki's actions on Earth?
"I wanted to thank you for it." Odin was saying, interrupting Harry's, suddenly whirling, thoughts.
"Thank me?"
"You said that you would help him, and you have. I doubted you, and yet..." He let the sentence hang unfinished in the air between them.
"It's not all well yet." Harry cautioned him.
"I know, but there has still been progress. That is why I..." He straightened. "I was considering visiting my son, but I wanted to speak with you on the matter first. You've shown you understand him in ways I, it seems, do not. I wished to ask your guidance on how to approach him properly." Harry stilled. The King, Odin, a god amongst gods, was asking him for advice. That was no small matter, and the tiny politician in him Tom had been trying to create stood at attention. He considered the question very seriously.
Odin rarely came up in he and Loki's conversations. The trickster often skipped over his name or called him simply 'the king' when he was involved in one of the liesmith's stories. He had though, if nothing else, grown to say the words 'the king' without that sharp touch of bitterness lately. Harry had, at first, thought he hated Odin. Now, it was more like Loki thought he hated Odin. But Harry believed he just felt angry and betrayed. He had heard, from Thor, the story of Loki's true parentage, and how the trickster had found out about it. With Loki's own half-memories in his head from when he had legilimized him, and the things Thor had told him Loki had said to him through the course of events, and, also, during their first anger-filled meeting together in the dungeons, it painted a fairly clear picture of the matter.
Loki had grown up believing that Thor was the favored child. Having, obviously, not been there to see it, and with only Thor's biased, confused view to gather from, Harry didn't know if that had really been the case, or if it was just the way Loki had felt it was. All the same, with Thor the more-loved (from Loki's perspective) child, the trickster had grown up in his shadow, always second best, but loving his brother enough to manage. Harry was sure, also, that the support of his mother through that time had helped. But then, when he found out Odin had taken him in as a political piece, his memories had been twisted. He had convinced himself Odin never loved him at all; that he had only been used. So now he was angry and betrayed and hurt; which was why Harry was sure he didn't actually hate Odin. Someone you hated couldn't make you feel that way. So before Harry answered the old king's question, he needed to know-
"Do you love him?" Odin looked taken aback.
"What?"
"Do you love your son? Loki?" Then the King looked offended.
"Of course! He is my child! How dare you suggest-" Harry, unconcerned with the god's ire, continued.
"Does he know that?" Odin gave him a dark look, clearly displeased at being interrupted. But there was a flicker of uncertainty in his blue eye now.
"Of course he does. I cared for him, doted on him. He had every spell book he wished for, the finest riding horse, he-" Harry interrupted him again.
"But have you ever told him you love him?" Odin reared up, opening his mouth to respond, a nasty glare on his face, and then, abruptly he paused, his mouth closed, and he looked as though he'd been stopped short. Harry nodded, and looked back down at the training ground while he continued. "A lot of us do just fine with actions. We know the people we love, love us back, because of how they treat us." He thought of Muhammad, and his father, and Bruce. "It's enough to see it in the way they respond to you, and care for you, and do things for you. But not everyone is like that. Some people need to hear it, or they'll never be able to see it. Actions help, of course, but to someone like Loki, the words are just as important."
"... I understand."
"Good." Harry looked up at him. "Thor told me you forbid Queen Frigga from visiting Loki. I think you should rescind that, and let her see him a few times before you go there yourself. He'll be a little less likely to respond to you with anger that way... But I wouldn't expect him to be happy about you being there either, or for him to show you much respect. You need to be prepared for that, and keep your temper in check." lecturing the king of the gods on his temper wasn't something Harry had ever expected to find himself doing. "If you let yourself get angry, then Loki will only get angry back, and it will just make things worse. You want him calm when you tell him, or he won't take you seriously." You need to tell him you love him, or he'll go on thinking you don't.
Odin nodded calmly, and they didn't speak again. A few minutes later, the old king left, and Harry spotted Sif come onto the training ground. He grinned, and headed down the steps to meet her, hoping things with Loki and his family would turn out as well as he hoped.
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Harry sat on the seat beside the large window in their common area, a cigarette against his lips, and the red light of a sunset filtering through the glass. Muhammad sat an arm's length away, watching him and holding back a smile, his eyes flicking between the animagus and the black snake curled up in front of him as they hissed back and forth in a tongue he couldn't hope to understand.
"-no, most new laws only require a majority vote. The only exceptions are in regards to foreign policies, which require a 3/4 vote at the least."
"Why's that?"
"Because the majority of foreign policies are made in regards to how the government responds to other countries, incoming immigration and visitors, trading, foreign diplomats. The policies are there as sets of ground rules, so the wizengamot knows how to respond in ways that are the least likely to lead to war in cases of conflict or difficulty. Having those policies changed means altering those guidelines, which is not always the best idea. That's why they need a stronger majority vote, to ensure a large enough portion of the wizengamot is in agreement, and thinks it a wise course of action. It helps to keep too many mistakes from being made, which in turn is the reason magical England has not had to officially declare war on any other magical nation, or have another nation declare war on them, since the first muggle world war." After learning that Harry's understanding of magical law lay only in what he had studied in a dry old book more than two years ago, Tom had looked horrified (or as horrified as a snake was capable of looking). He had immediately insisted that Harry needed a better foundation of knowledge, and that he would teach it to him. After repeated protests (verbal and mental) fell on deaf ears, the animagus finally agreed just to stop the man-turned-snake's pestering.
"What about world war two, and Grindelwald?" The black serpent shook its head.
"World war two was a muggle war, not a magical one, and Grindelwald was one man with a varied following, he didn't represent his country, and the German wizards were among the first to turn against him and vilify his actions. The German muggle and magical governments have always been even more far removed than most other countries. Germany's muggle leaders have never been in the know about our world. The wizards didn't like what was happening, between Hitler and his Holocaust, and the fighting, but they also didn't see it as their problem. Where we, in places, tried to help our muggles when it was possible to do so without risking the statute of secrecy, the German wizards left their muggles to fend for themselves." Harry nodded slowly, understanding.
"So even though magical England helped out, they didn't really consider themselves at war, right?"
"Exactly."
"I suppose those policies must be effective then, if they've helped keep magical England at peace for so long."
"They are, yes."
"So changing those policies is definitely something a full meeting would be called for?" Tom nodded again. "That's why I need to know about them."
"Yes." Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.
"I still don't think I should have that seat."
"Maybe not, but it's a good thing for your brothers that you do." Harry's eyes snapped up and narrowed.
"What do you mean?"
"Another common reason for the wizengamot being called together is when they change the creature or being laws, which happens more often than you might think, and werewolf policies are the ones most often changed. You may not live in England any longer, but those Weasley boys do, and so does your godson's father. In fact, as the child of a werewolf, even one unaffected by the curse, there are laws in place regarding your godson as well. If those should seem to be changing for the worse, you can use your seat, and your vote, to intervene. It helps you protect them. You could also use your seat to demand a proper trial with veritaserum for your father, if he ever made the choice to return to England, or if someone caught him while he's traveling."
"A trial would only lead to him being locked up." But Tom shook his scaled head in disagreement.
"You said Dumbledore ordered Severus to kill him. That's classified as assisted suicide, not murder, and assisted suicide isn't currently illegal in magical England." Harry blinked, surprised.
"It's not?"
"No. That doesn't mean it's smiled upon, mind you, but there's no laws against it. He would still likely be ostracized, but they wouldn't be able to put him in Azkaban for it. Besides that, he was a spy against me. If he spoke about that at trial, and about all the things he did to sabotage my plans, and how his killing of Dumbledore was part of a plot to help him do that, it will put him in even better light. Lucius' testimony would work highly in his favor also. As Lord Malfoy, he had a great deal of political sway even before the war, but after having been seen fighting with the light during that final battle, his influence will only have grown. He would be willing to testify, I think. Firstly because you're family, and secondly because he and Severus have been friends since even before they joined the ranks of my death eaters." Hearing him say words like 'my', and being reminded that Tom and Voldemort were the same person was strange, especially as he could talk about it all so casually. Harry had to shake off the disconcerting feeling.
"So if we ever had to go back, and he was given a trial, he could be free? Completely so?"
"He could, yes." Well.
Well. Harry wasn't willing to just waltz on back to England at the moment; not with the knowledge of how easily Sirius had been tossed in a cell without any hint of a trial. But it was nice to know there would be a chance for them if, for some reason, they ever found themselves in a situation where Severus needed to return to England. If it happened, and they managed to get him a trial...
It wouldn't be safe for him, by any means, but at least he would be able to use his own name in countries other than America. Not that having to go by only his first name, or introducing himself as Severus Black (always with a sneer) when last names became needed, had been any trouble for them, as of yet, but still.
It was nice to know the option would be there if needed. Harry changed the subject.
"So, the werewolf laws, teach me about those." Moo shifted next to him, lighting up a second cigarette and offering another to Harry. Having been so sucked into what Tom had been saying, the animagus realized he'd let a good portion of his go to waste. There was a long grey worm of unsmoked ash hanging from his filter. He rubbed it out into the ashtray (a little glass thing he'd transfigured from an empty potions vial) and took the offered cancer stick.
"Werewolves have changed classification between 'creature' and 'being' many times in the past hundred years so, and though they're currently classified as beings, there are a great many restrictions in place for registered werewolves. Which is why, of course, most werewolves choose to hide their nature rather than register, like your brothers."
"Mooney's registered." Tom nodded.
"Which can make life very difficult for him. Legally, registered werewolves are required to inform any potential employers of their status, which, because of the societal view of things, means that it can be very difficult for them to get a job. Your Mr. Lupin is very lucky to have his position at Hogwarts. Other werewolves are not so lucky. Trouble finding employment means that most werewolves don't have the money to pay for wolfsbane. Registered werewolves are also required to either present proof that they have access to the potion on a regular basis, or that they have a well-prepared place within which they can be safely confined for the entirety of the full moon."
"Isn't that sort of..." He waved a hand, feeling a lick of anger, and also frustration at his inability to be as articulate as he wished. "I mean, if they can't get jobs, they can't make any money, and if they don't have any money, they can't buy wolfsbane, or a house where they would be able to lock themselves up, it's- it's beyond unfair! I mean-" He floundered for words again. Tom nodded.
"That's precisely why so few werewolves go through with registration, and also why it was so easy to gather many of them to my side during the war. Had I won, they would have been able to live openly, and as equals to ordinary wizards."
"As long as they were purebloods." Harry sniped. Tom nodded slowly, turning his head away a bit. The animagus thought he looked a bit ashamed, or as much so as a snake could anyways.
"I was insane, Harry. My actions were not those of a sound or just man. But they have already passed. And, no matter my old views on wizarding and pureblood supremacy, hypocritical views I might add, they were not the only goals I had. When I first began gathering followers, it was mainly in the hopes of starting a revolution. I intended to destroy the old government and create a new one in its place that would, hopefully, end the corruption and unfairness of the old regime. Of course, I was just as corrupt, and I wished to place myself at the head of the new government, but the matter stands. Not all of my ideals were misplaced. But that is not what we are discussing right now." Harry nodded, a little guilty and ashamed of himself for his judgment. He took a pull on his cigarette, and motioned for Tom to continue.
"So, are there other restrictions?"
"There are. To start with, werewolves must be able to prove they have been taking wolfsbane regularly for at least a year, before they are permitted to own property, and they must continue to take it or they can have their property taken by the ministry, either for government use, or to be handed off to a non-cursed relative of the werewolf in question." That explained why the Lupins lived at Grimmauld. It was better for them than taking the risk that the Ministry might deny Mooney the right to buy, and keep, his own home. It helped, also, that they were at Hogwarts for the majority of the year. Even if they were willing to take the risk, it would be a little pointless to buy a house they would only live in for a few months out of the year. "They are allowed to have children of their own, and be around children not their own, so long as said children do not remain in the same residence as them during the full moon. They cannot, however, adopt or take custody of children unrelated to them by blood. Werewolves cannot be legally married, thou-"
"What?!" Harry yelped in English, surprised, and somewhat outraged. Moo's head snapped away from looking out the window to observing Harry, semi-startled by the sudden change from incomprehensible hissing to a word in a language he knew. "But I thought Mooney and Tonks were-" He stopped short. As he understood it, they had eloped, getting married someplace with no one the wiser and no one but the two of them and an official.
"They likely left the country for it. Luckily for werewolves, travel outside of the country is not restricted, and countries like Russia or Sweden not only allow marriage between werewolves, but are also willing to endorse the marriages of non-citizens. It's just that any marriage involving a werewolf would not be recognized by the British Ministry of Magic."
"How can they not recognize a marriage?" Muhammad, noting the return to parseltongue, lost interest and went back to looking out the window; watching the clouds go by more than anything else.
"It's primarily a paperwork and tax issue. Normally, after marriage any magical paperwork referring to Mrs. Lupin would list her as precisely that; Mrs. Lupin. But without being recognized, all paperwork under the Ministry would still list her as Miss Tonks. You said she was an Auror?" Harry nodded.
"She'll be called Auror Tonks then, instead of Auror Lupin. Besides that, married couples get certain tax benefits, and are allowed to file their taxes together. Mr. and Mrs. Lupin would not be afforded those benefits, and they likely have to file their taxes separately as two single individuals."
"That's Hippogriff shit." Tom nodded, a small glint of amusement at Harry's language in his eyes.
"I agree wholeheartedly. Unfortunately that's the way the policies are at the moment." Harry frowned, and looked away. He despised politics more and more.
"... Would the werewolf laws require a 3/4 vote to change, or just a majority?"
"Only a majority, though a bill would have to be written up and first approved by at least three current members of the wizengamot. It would also need to be presented by a wizengamot member at a smaller meeting before a date could be set to discuss it in depth. They could vote to approve such a bill, deny it, or alter it. If they approve it, it goes immediately into effect. If they deny it, the presenter would have to wait thirty days before re-presenting it, or convince another member to present it. Though if it's denied, it would likely be smarter to change and review it before attempting to bring it before the wizengamot a second time. If they vote to alter it, it's generally because they agree on the bill's premise, but dislike certain minor points and wish to discuss and change them before considering the bill at a proper vote." Harry grimaced.
"So it wouldn't be the easiest thing in the world."
"Far from it, I'm afraid." Harry sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He hadn't worried too much about Mooney before, and now, knowing about these laws, he was filled with anxiety on behalf of his pseudo-uncle and his godson. This would be less worrying if he could convince them to leave England, but Tonks had her mother there, and Mooney seemed so happy about working at Hogwarts, and it wasn't really Harry's place to go barging in and interfering in people's lives like that. Not to mention that he could hardly offer them a home with himself or something, because then it would only be a matter of time before they found out about Severus, and turned him in, and felt betrayed by Harry, and Merlin knew what other crap he'd have to deal with then...
Maybe when he returned to Earth he could pay Lucius a visit and bring the issue up with him; given the older wizard's experience with politics, that would be the smart thing to do. He could talk to Hermione too. If she knew about these laws she'd be furious, and it wouldn't be a matter of him asking for help so much as winding the bushy-haired woman up and then staying out of her way.
But of course, all of this still brought him back to his reluctance to involve himself in the political arena at all.
I guess I'll just have to wait until I go back to Earth and worry about it then.
"So, what about those foreign policies you were talking about? Are they different based on the country involved, or are they like umbrella laws to cover everything?" Tom took the subject change in stride, and continued teaching Harry about politics, with a bit of history thrown in here and there.
It wasn't the most interesting subject for Harry, but at least Tom was a far better teacher than Professor Binns had been.
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I was actually fairly pleased with how this chapter turned out. I normally don't get into the technical, but I've been feeling like fleshing out the universe this Harry lives in a little more, so you might see more conversations like the one with Tom as we go.
Next chapter sees the beginning of a visit to Earth, and some other things as well.
So, since most of you were pretty much in agreement that I should continue the Part at least through to the beginning of Thor 2, that's what I'm going to do, even though that means Part 5 will be much longer than the Parts have been so far. This means that Part 6 will begin with the events of Thor 2, and move in through a second story arc likely to involve the wizarding world.
Thank you all for sticking with this fic as long as you have, and welcome to any new readers.
Until next time.
Sincerely,
Mr. Hate