Hello. This story, simply named International, is a take on what the magical world would look like if it was divided up differently, if there were more than one type of magic or one way of DOING magic. Harry himself uses magic through sheer Willpower, rather than wand and incantation, and it is not the only other way of doing it either. Further, for the purpose of this story Harry has not been in Britain since he was around five, and with his current caretakers since he was six or seven. If you would like more information on this story, or just want it for your own, PM me and I will forward what I have.
DB3200-
It was a bright night under the full moon. Below the majestic white orb six figures quickly moved through the Carpathian mountainside, stopping periodically so a few of their group could catch their breath. Above them a tall man stood, watching amusedly.
He could clearly see three of the robed people below bent over panting, two men and one woman, the other three were clearly the more fit of the group.
'To be fair one is a werewolf and one's been running as a dog animagus.' The last was a short figure, the only one of the group who was fit enough to run on two feet for an extended period.
All in all they were doing quite well for what they were running from: a small pack of werewolves.
'Still, the idiots knew it was the full moon tonight and approached a werewolf conclave right before sunset anyway.' He thought angrily, 'And now I get to go save them from their own stupidity and arrest them.' Sighing he watched them for a little while longer as they started to group up, apparently planning on fighting rather than running. 'Actually wouldn't have been a bad plan if not for the fact that these aren't just free roaming Were's.'
The first sign that he needed to get involved was when the first fireball was thrown out. Apparently one of the women wasn't quite human, a Veela by the look of her. Veela are quite easy to tell apart from other humans: When they're in their natural state they will have large claws for hands and feet, bird like wings, beaks, you know like a Harpy. When not in this form their beautiful beyond belief and have a mysterious Allure that sings to the blood of men.
The werewolf was beginning to put up quite a fight, while the dog animagus was aiming for the hamstrings. Add to that the persistent and powerful spell casting from the other three… They were good, a well trained unit that touched on almost all of the bases as far as he could see.
Watching them he could tell they would still need saving from their own folly. A dozen fully grown werewolves won't be bested by a half dozen witches and wizards, even if one of them is a werewolf himself.
Seeing his opportunity the man slowly pulled free his weapon of choice: a silver Francisca throwing axe with runes in the shaft and metal. He was wearing a sturdy leather outfit that any ranger would have been proud to wear. On his back was a rather large claymore that was sheathed, though the hilt still shown silver in the moonlight. He carried a number of other knives and daggers on his person, along with cantina's and other essentials to surviving in the outdoors.
Lifting the weapon he looked down and rushed forward before blurring away towards the fray.
His magic practically threw him forwards, the world moving around him in a blur as he sped towards his desired location. It was one of the first skills he had taught himself as a child, how he had managed to get away from an abusive family and travel through Europe.
Reaching the end of his incredibly fast trip he put a hand forward, Pushing several of the native werewolves forwards and away from him, making them land in a pile after hitting another of their kinsmen. Lifting the other hand he sent out a burst of blue lightning, striking another wolf before directing the flow of electricity towards the other downed foes, sending the large grey wolf onto the top of the pile.
Turning his attention away from them he looked towards the other side of the fight: the sane werewolf and animagus. Quickly bringing his hands together he circled them together, creating a small ball of fire in the palm of his hands.
Before the other two knew what was going on he launched it, hitting the werewolf in the chest with the resounding boom.
The large black dog animagus, now realizing that the newcomer was not exactly friendly, jumped forwards, only to be pushed back towards the group of spell casters who looked on, stunned.
Turning quickly he ducked behind a wild werewolf that was coming up behind him, hamstringing the creature with the blade of his throwing axe before moving on and doing the same to another. Lifting a hand he sends out another burst of electricity, stunning and using the rather large body as a bullet shield for a few seconds as the spell casters finally moved into action.
Weaving his hands around each other once more he slowly pulled them away, making the whole world seem to slow down around him.
Turning his magic inwards now he directed it, feeding it right into his muscles, making dark man visibly bulk up.
Knocking his werewolf shield out of the way he ran forward, barely missing being hit by a fireball from the birdlike Veela. Halfway to the woman the ranger stopped, picking up the body of the downed werewolf he had hit with a fireball of his own, and hurling it towards the furious Veela, who's eyes manage to widen before being plowed down by the giant creature.
Turning towards the remaining trio, one of whom is bent over checking on the animagus, who was once more returned to being a man. Lifting his hand they tensely raise their wands.
Before any action can be taken though he speaks, "Hold your wands wizards! You are under arrest in the name of the Carpathian Magical Government! Lower your wands and come freely or you will be subdued." His green eyes slowly meet the eyes of the two men who remained standing, both red heads: One short and stocky, the other tall and broad and wiry.
"Lower them boy's," came the voice from the third member of their small party who just began to stand, "I don't know what he did to Padfoot, but he's out cold."
Seeing them lower their wands he in turn lowered his hand, loosening his grip on the Francisca in his off hand. "Don't worry, at worst he'll have a concussion. Your friend on the wolfsbane over there is likely going to have a sore chest in the morning, but it's the Veela girl I feel worst for, she doesn't have the regenerative abilities of a werewolf."
Putting his axe in its sheath the woman suddenly screamed, looking behind him, fear plastered on her face.
Pulling free the axe once more he turned on the balls of his feet, his long midnight black hair whipping around with his head, ready to throw the deadly weapon once more, barely stopping in time.
There before him was the single largest werewolf he had ever seen, its thick mane a pure white that seemed to shine in the light of the full moon… it was also one he was quite familiar with.
"Good morning Cătălin," he said in a joyous voice, thick with Slavic accent, "I'm glad you could make it to the party in time." Seeing the large white wolf bow its head he laughs a little, "Yes yes, I know the spiel: You're getting old, you can't move as fast as you used too, you're too large." Walking past the giant creature he puts his weapon away, pointing towards the pile of werewolves, "Those are your boys over there, make sure that they're aware they will be on guard duty at the manor for the next three months and to report for the next two weeks for patrols in the northern watch." Hearing the large creature whine like a dog he gave the beast an incredulous look, receiving a few of his own from the trio that was waiting for him. "Really? You're going to try and pull one like that? It hasn't worked since I was ten, now get your people and get going, I need to get this lot up to the way station and back to the castle."
One would think the young man was insane, turning his back on such a creature, but the beast simply bowed its head at his back, howling to the moon, calling two other, much smaller beasts to help gather the others of their kind.
Now that he was closer to them the man looked over each of his 'guests' in turn.
On the ground was the downed werewolf, 'A city dweller if I've ever seen one.' He mused quietly to himself, 'He's small, almost all skin and bones as far as a werewolf is concerned. Guy's probably been denying himself the freedom of the wolf or hasn't used wolfsbane much in the past year… probably both.'
Next was the animagus, who was now a man again thanks to a quick spell from one of the redheaded boys, 'Not a very skilled animagus.' He noted, wishing one of them would summon cloths for the naked man, 'One of the servants up in the castle is an animagus and can shift between bird and man without removing clothes.'
Putting it out of his mind he looked over to the last downed foe… Well, ALMOST downed foe, now that he looked he could see the Veela squirming under the weight of the wolf, 'Hmmm… almost the exact opposite of the werewolf, this one has fully embraced the Beast within her, both the good and the bad. If she hadn't she wouldn't have been awake.' Grinning on the outside he walked over to her and the wolf, easily removing her furry little problem.
"In case you didn't hear down there-" he began, stopping when he had to lean out of the way of another fireball from the downed woman. He responded in kind with a kick to the face, "You are under arrest." He ended wryly.
Casually he walked over to the others. "Ginger-snap and fire-starter, you two will take the Veela and the naked man." He announced, making the shorter boy get a cheeky grin from the taller man who moved over to the now fully human woman, an attractive blond. The stockier of the two moved to the naked man, hovering him to one side disdainfully. Turning he took in the last of the party, a short petite woman with a heart shaped face, a button nose, and a petulant frown, "You, Squirt, will be leading the way. I'll shout which paths to take. Deviate and I throw a wolf at you." All he got from her was a short nod as her frigid blue eyes and short hair turned crimson red.
"Neat trick, now march!" and they did, the metamorph leading the way, taking his instructions to heart and did not deviate from his dictated path, the two red heads following close behind with their comrades, and the ranger behind them with the werewolf easily held over his shoulder.
It took them the better part of an hour to get a glimpse of the castle, the formerly short woman stopping to stare for a moment at the well concealed fortress before being coaxed back into motion. It didn't take her long after they started to lengthen her legs considerably to get a better stride going.
Another half an hour found them standing in the courtyard of a Spartan complex surrounded in white stone brick with an honest to god drawbridge. Once again the two redheads were out of breath, the female looking at them with some fair amusement in her eyes.
Tossing his burden down the black haired man put his fingers to his mouth and whistled, four pale faced men quickly running from one of the doors near the castle proper. They made it over at an inhuman rate, the tallest one tisking as he looked down at the Veela, Werewolf, and Animagus.
"Have Clara and Mircea take these three down to the dungeon proper and set up a shared cell for them. Let them keep their wands but set up a ward, the man can turn into a rather thin dog and the womans a Veela. The starving wolf here won't be a problem, he's on the juice." He listed off in quick Bulgarian for the sake of one of the women before turning to the tall fourth man and started his spiel in Romanian, "Manole, head to the office and pull up half a dozen registration forms and four I.C.W. forms. For now the gingers just need the registrations, the others will be compared by the I.C.W. registrations for creatures and controlled abilities."
Turning he smiled at the three while their companions were taken away, "Now, Englishmen, and woman, why don't we head to my office so we can sort through this mess and get you a nice cozey cell until we can decide what to do with you. Yes?"
Not waiting for a reply the turned away and began walking towards the main castle door, a pair of burly metal statues opening the gigantic doors for him. No other options than to follow or head back out to the wilderness the three marched on, the stocky redhead passing on what he heard from the man as they went.
"Tonks, he asked for forms from the Confederation on you guys, checking for creatures he said." He whispered urgently, getting a curse from the petite woman. "He's also looking into if you and Snuffles are registered. I don't think I need to tell you what'll happen when they don't get anything back on the mutt and warrant for wolfie."
"They'll get sent back to the Ministry." She said, nodding along, her purple hair cascading around her face, "And those guys that took Remus and Fluer?"
The tall man spoke up, "Vampires Tonks." Bill announced grimly, "I had to work with a few in Egypt."
"Same at the reserve." Charlie said, looking over at his friend, "Not really all that uncommon around the Mediterranean, they like the nightlife around the region, and Carpathia has always been willing to accept them as equals."
"If they're here do you think we can get them to help the cause?" she asked quickly, looking between the two. With their skeptical looks she carried on, "I know things are bleak over there but even if Fudge and the Toad can't see reason surely Dumbledore and the Order can use their help?"
"Bleak?" Bill muttered venomously, "They're bordering on crimes against humanity! Werewolves in work camps, refusing to acknowledge elves who want to escape abusive families, not letting goblin's 'intermingle' with human's."
His brother nodded shortly, "It's not going to be long before they require muggleborne to register, not to mentions dad's Muggle Protection Act is already been repealed."
Tonks just scowled, "I'm not going to let them ruin my country!" and with that hurried after their young arrester who was waiting at a dark wooden door, holding it open for them.
"Prisoners first!" he announced cheerily, giving a slight bow and a welcoming wave of the arm.
Following them in, he put one hand up casually, pulling three cushioned wood chairs up to a large intimidating desk which he sat behind. Leaning back he took the three of them in briefly, looking each in the eyes one at a time.
"A dragon tamer walks into a bar," He starts, looking over at the shorter man.
"He says, 'Still not as bad as a horntail to the groin!'" the man replies with a cheeky grin, blinking after words when he realizes the implication, "Um Sir!"
The younger boy waves him off, "I recognized you from a monitoring visit I had with Lord Dragomir a few years ago. Not to mention we had to sign off for you to head to Scotland for the Triwizard Tournament. For obvious reasons we wanted the best caring for our dragons while they were stuck overseas. The Empire has only just decided that they have to give us back the Welsh Green. They seemed to think they could keep it. You," and here he pulled a thick file from one of the draws, flipping through them rapidly before stopping on a picture of a bright red head, "Charles Wulfric Weasly, got the Chinese Fireball back safely with your ten man squad. You served your probation with flying colors, getting promoted quite early with the addition of a rare Norwegian Ridgeback from 'unsuitable living conditions.' You've showed up every day and have used a majority of your downtime taking advantage of our free courses for potential future promotions and responsibilities. Four months ago however you requested a year's leave to head back to England. Lord Dragomir himself signed off on the papers as you know."
Here the man stopped and looked over at the man, closing the file and putting it back in his desk, "And yet here you are. Back in Romania after a few short months, traipsing through the mountainside, bringing foreign witches and wizards into the country, invading a werewolf colony, and during a full MOON of all times."
The older boy was squirming under the unnerving green eyes that stared at him, his brother and the metamorph looking like they felt awkward themselves by the silence.
"I think it goes without saying, but I'll throw it out there: What the HELL WERE YOU DOING!?" he yelled, pulling free his axe and embedding it into the desk with a reverberating *thunk*. "You of all people, having worked on the Romanian Reserve for four years, should know what dangers there are to going through the countryside at night are, not to mention the fact that it was a full moon. There is a reason we have a curfew on those nights, and it's not to protect the werewolves. But you didn't just go out at night, on a full moon, you went straight to a WERE-WOLF COLONY! Do you know how many shades of stupid that colors you?" he asked finally, "And that's not even with you bringing foreign witches and wizards with you, one of whom was werewolf himself and bound to attract unwanted attention, but a VEELA? Tell me, are you ignorant or just plain stupid, because nothing makes a wolfs blood pump faster than a Veela's Allure?! Now! Talk!"
Charlie Weasley, for having stared down dragons while they were in a rage, couldn't speak. The boy in front of them, no older than eighteen had his work history and even remembered him specifically. His mouth moved occasionally but his throat was as dry as a desert, his tongue refusing to wet his lips for all the good it would have been. The boy just stared, eventually rolling his eyes dismissively and massaging his forehead with his right hand.
"Domnul meu?" Came a voice from the door with a brief knock.
"Manole, enter." He said, pulling free his axe to make way for the paper work. "You have the forms?" he asked eagerly, getting a nod to the positive. Taking the nearly dozen rolls of parchment from the man he pulled free four. "Mr. Weasley, this is merely a formality for you, so I can assure your identity, for you two this will be a record for the Carpathian Magical Government of you having entered our borders and will act as an official file for any important information we have about you."
Tonks just raised a brow, "So you're registering us to keep track of anything we do in the country? Planning on spying on us?"
"No," he declared boldly, "But we don't know that you won't spy on us, madam Metamorph. It will keep track of your criminal record in Carpathia as well as where you go, which officials you meet with, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Just sign at the top with a blood quill and it will request your basic information from our British Embassy, and if you don't mind dear, we would like you to sign a second one so we may get confirmation on your registration with the International Confederation of Warlocks."
Tonks just shot a cheeky grin, "And if I'm not registered?" she asked.
"Then we register you and you get fined two thousand galleons by the I.C.W. for failure to comply with international law." He announced, making her pale considerably. "You aren't really responsible for registering, don't worry. You register with your Ministry, which I'm sure you are, and they register you with the I.C.W.." At his words she calmed considerably, "Same goes for your friends. We are just going to get your information and likely arrange for deportation to Nuremburg for them to sort you lot out. You didn't enter our territory through any legal magical means and didn't register with us if you used any muggle methods. Charles here will not be deported, though," and here he gave the stocky man a wry look, "he may have to face an inquiry from the reservation heads, I'll leave that up to them."
Tonks still looked a little worried, but Bill and Charlie relaxed visible.
"No, I'm not really all that interested in that." He said casually, reassuring them, "I wanna talk about something else… How about… I don't know… How about Crimes against Humanity?" the green eyed boy asked with a blasé attitude, "You seemed quite taken with that Mr. Weasley, I wanna hear more about thaaaat!"
The three looked between each other for a moment, all of them a little paler, he could tell, but their eyes were wondering. He could practically hear them talk with their eyes, wondering where this was going.
"Crimes against Humanity?" The elder Weasley asked, getting a nod from his warden. "What kind were you wondering about?"
Eyeing them up briefly he sat forward, putting his hands in front of his face as he leaned onto the desk, "Well, you were in the Werewolf Colony, let's hear about those crimes against them? Hmm?"
"Well… Yes." The man stopped, sitting up a little straighter, presenting himself to the younger boy, "Recently our government, the British Ministry for Magic-"
"Hum-hum." The raven haired teen interrupted, clearing his throat, "You mean the British Magical Empire, yes? Or one of its member Ministries?"
The Gringotts employee cast wondering eye over to the Auror beside him. "There is only a British Ministry Mr…?" the girl asked with pleading eyes.
"You may call me Lord Vassal, that is my position." The young lord offered freely, "And I'm sorry, but you are wrong, there is a British Magical Empire that is composed of eight Ministries. Just as this is the Magical Kingdom Carpathia, which consists of all the Ministries of the countries within and adjacent to the Carpathian Mountain Range. Were these alleged crimes committed in just one country or multiple?"
"Multiple." The woman answered with a frown, "British then, though I've never heard of the Empire…"
Here Bill took back over, "Recently our government has entered a state of war. To help them prepare for this they passed much legislation." The boy nodded to this, understanding the needs of war, "Their first was to tighten the control over the werewolf population, requiring them to carry papers with them. Then they were not allowed to buy certain items, particularly potions or potions ingredients." Here he stopped nodding, the implications were already bad. No potions meant they could not buy Wolfbane, no ingredients meant the few who were qualified to make the potions couldn't. "Then they were not allowed to work in the Muggle world, off of claims of endangering the Statute of Secrecy. Then they were not allowed to work with or under non infected Witches or Wizards. Then they couldn't own business'."
"Are you telling me they could not work at all?" he asked coldly, getting a nod.
The tall man's face darkened considerably, "It got worse. The Ministry then passed laws forbidding the congregation of more than two werewolves in any residence at any given time."
"And what of families? Children born to two were's?" the Lord Vassal asked, his face carved from ice. "A Were cannot have a child without infecting both their partner and the child, how were they supposed to raise families?"
Tonks fielded that one, "I cannot be sure, but when I got the notification from my higher ups I got the notion that was the idea."
"You work for one of the Ministries?"
"I.. I'm a British Auror." She announced as easily as she could, still confused over the difference that she had never been told about.
Once more the Weasley boy went on, "As of last week when we left the Isles there was one more piece of legislation that was passing through. All werewolves were to report to one of the six Ministry approved and controlled work camps to 'help ensure the employment of valued Britons and eliminate vagrants in our midst.' It went on to provide that any werewolf that did not turn themselves in within twenty days would be labeled a threat and that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures dispose of them as such."
The lord was quiet at that, looking deep into his thoughts. Idly he handed over the four signed parchments to his assistant, not saying a word.
"What other crimes were you talking about before?" he asked quietly, motioning them to continue.
And carry on they did. Into the rights of House Elves, who now were either to be bound by a family or would be sold to one by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The new limits that were placed to make it illegal for elves to be 'free' or to leave the country. How 'beings' were being redefined to only include Magical humans, making Veela, Mere-people, Centaurs, Vampires, and potentially Goblins into beasts. Refusing equal or even basic rights to those with mixed heritage, like half-giants or half-Veela.
"There are no half Veela." The man said dismissively at that, "Either you are, or you are not, there is no half."
Either way they continued, onto how the Goblin's were being refused access to the Ministry buildings and how a few were even arrested for walking through Diagon Alley. Then onto their assumptions of what would be next: a Muggleborne Registration.
In the end the three looked tired, having been talking for most of the night. The Lord Vassal just looked pissed.
"This is beyond me." He announced eventually, motioning for his vampiric assistant, Manole, who had been in and out with their registration rolls and getting blood samples from the other three. "Please go and request Lord Dragomir's presence. Tell him Harry has already managed to get over his head." He said ruefully.
Standing he began pacing behind his desk, "Tell me." He asked quietly, "Why has Britain done this? And how has the I.C.W. not heard of any of it? Surely Albus Dumbledore would not sit quietly while he has the power to bring the international community into the situation? What is the Supreme Mugwump thinking?"
"The British Ministry has recalled the Headmaster from his position in the I.C.W. and removed him as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot." The young miss Tonks informed him quietly, getting an incredulous stare.
"Recalled him? The Seven Nations, let alone any of MINISTRIES that form them do not have the power to recall a member of the I.C.W., they are voted in at an international level. Further the Supreme Mugwump is not just any member, he is voted in by unanimous vote of the six of the Seven Nations from their own ranks and can only be removed via death, retirement, criminal indictment on an international level, or another unanimous vote." Looking them over he made sure that sunk it, "If you're nation has 'recalled' him, then they have simply removed their own vote within the I.C.W. and removed the Mugwump, meaning no new international laws may be passed and no international courts may be tried. What has happened over there?"
"War." They announced at once.
"You mean your new Dark Lord?" he asked in a flippant voice, "The one claiming the title of your previous Lord Voldemort?"
Charlie was the one to speak up, "He isn't just claiming the title, he's not just a copycat. He IS the same Dark Lord."
"What, he's been in hiding for fourteen years? Last we all heard out here was he was dead, your nation were yelling about it at the top of their lungs." At this he got a patronizing look on his face, "The Boy Who Lived killed him they said?"
"Fuck off!" came the reply from the witch in the group who suddenly towered over the boy a good six inches with flaming red hair. "He was dead, bloody Harry Potter killed him. We had over a decade of picking up the pieces from eleven years of war. He came back; he stole the Philosophers Stone from out of Hogwarts and got himself a new body. Since the end of the Tournament he's been waging a bloody war on all Britain ever since. We need allies, that's why we're here, cuz otherwise that bastard is going to kill us, and then he'll take off from the Isle's on a killing spree across the world!"
He looked the wild metamorph dead in the eyes. "Should he be stopped?" was the young man's response, the woman looking like she was ready to explode, "You say your own government is passing these laws? Then if someone is trying to overthrow them should you stop them, should we here in Carpathia make any attempt to stop this Dark Lord? His Lord Bogden Dragomir was once considered a 'Dark Lord' by the people of Carpathia and the I.C.W., now he is a rightful ruler who has held his position for longer than any of us have been alive."
He waited for the girl to respond but she didn't. Her hair grew several feet, turned several shades of red and orange, and she walked away to a wall clenching her fists.
Instead he looked over to the other two boys, "Well?"
Charlie took up in her stead, "The laws are being pushed through by the Dark Lords party. There is a man, Lucius Malfoy. He has the ear of the Minister and his office, and they won't hear of any talk that he is himself a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's followers. We believe he is forcing these laws through the Ministry to force the others away from the Ministry's side of the fighting and towards his cause, promising them that they'll be free from persecution. He has already convinced a large part of the French and British Colonies to fight for his cause and it doesn't seem like it will be long until the Goblins turn to him."
"So you came seeking allies." It was a statement, not a question.
"The Werewolf Colonies in Romania was said to be the largest in the world, bigger than any other two in Europe. If we could convince them to help in the war…"
The man nodded, understanding completely.
Finally Manole returned, bearing a simple note for the boy.
"Lord Dragomir informed me that he is still on vacation and that you will deal with this inconvenience on your own. He has detailed proper I.C.W. policy and wish's you the best of luck in your trial Lord Vassal."
The young man simply stared at the vampire and his note blankly.
"Pula mea!" he yelled, kicking the chair he had been sitting in across the room. "Avortonule!" The group watched as the man swore, Charlie Weasley growing red in the face, the pale Manole chuckling to himself.
"Shall I pass your response to him Domnul meu?" The boy's response was to raise up a two finger salute and wave the man off.
Lifting one hand he called the chair back to him, catching the heavy wooden object in one hand.
"I will see to you lot in the morning, until then…" and with that he snapped his fingers, a quartet of elves appearing with a loud *crack!* "Please see our guests to the West Wing. They will each be confined and monitored for attempted outside communication, Cici, please prepare another two rooms for their comrades and inform Cătălin that he will have another envoy joining him in the Colony proper. Also ask Madam Lestrange and Mister Macnair to attend me, I have a few questions for them tonight regarding their benefactor."
"Lestrange!" the woman yelled, her hair going short, her eyes wide and fearful. "You are entertaining a wanted criminal?"
"She is not wanted by the I.C.W." he replied with a raised brow, "as the British have not notified the international community of any illegal activity. I already did a check with the three of them as I did you. Our British Embassy as well as the Confederation have both reported that they are citizens in good standing."
"She escaped from Azkaban!" the woman yelled, charging up to him and getting in his face, "She-"
Whatever she was going to say was cut off by the snap of one of the elves fingers, the young woman blinking out of the room.
Looking over he saw the other two looking wide eyed and slack jawed at Tonks' disappearance. "Good night boys." He followed this with a jaunty wave as the elves snapped their fingers once more, removing the duo from the office as well.
Herald James Potter had a long night. He knew he should have left the night patrol to one of the Ranger Squads, he should have stayed in the castle and gotten more of his paperwork done, done some more work with these 'diplomats' that had come from the British 'Ministry'.
It was nearly two in the morning by the time he had his guests removed to their rooms and Lestrange and Macnair had been there for another two hours reassuring him that their Lord was trying to overthrow this tyrannical government.
He could tell they were lying. The woman was as mad as a bag of nuts and the man leaked bloodlust like a broken faucet. Not to mention he worked for their supposed enemies ministry as a part of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He was one of those accused of these supposed Crimes against Humanity.
Brogden was being obstinate as well. Harry knew he meant well, he just wanted Harry to get used to ruling. Unfortunately his method was more akin to throwing a child into a swelling river rather than coaxing them into a pool. Not that he hadn't thrown Harry into a river before, though the boy was starting to prefer the literal one's over this metaphorical one.
At least he couldn't hurt the physical river if he failed.
Here he had taken over control of the entire Carpathian Magical Government, a sort of 'final test' that Brogden Dragomir had thought up. And while Harry was trying to put the past eight and a half years of lessons that had been drilled into him by the old bat and his tutors, Brogden was lounging around in the North Tower with a small harem of vampires he had collected over the years, indulging his appetite and relaxing in disgusting opulence. He called it a vacation.
Harry called it nerve racking.
He had only begun his temporary rule at the equinox, leading the locals through the traditional Harvest Festivals and then the Samhain rituals less than a month ago. He had a month and half until he handed the reins back over during the three day Yule Rites. It couldn't come soon enough. Ruling was chaffing on his mind. He would much rather go back to helping around the castle, doing odd jobs for Lord Dragomir in the government, and acting as one of the Rangers. He had barely cleared enough time from his schedule for this one night, and that was only thanks to Manole's careful planning and suggestions. His three hundred year old caretaker had always done what made Harry happy.
And now he was being handed a new problem: International Politics. He knew the laws, he had gone with his mentor many times over the past eight years to Nuremburg for I.C.W. meetings, he even knew who was who and who to talk to so things got done. But it would add more to his already intolerable workload and take him away from Carpathia to meet the demands of his station. And unlike Brogden he actually had to sleep.
Sleep being a relative term anyway. Three hours was not a lot of sleep and one did not generally do so with their eyes open.
However it was done though he now had to act. Carpathia had a reputation to uphold and he was the one responsible for it. Not that he wouldn't get involved anyway.
He suspected that, had he not been left in charge for the quarter, he would have been demanding action from Brogden to get involved. He hadn't been in Britain proper since he was five, true, but it was still where he was born, where he could learn about his parents. Not to mention he had a small vendetta with this supposed Dark Lord. He had been planning on just turning away Lestrange and her two uncouth companions, putting forth a note condemning the actions of the British Dark Lord, but now he wasn't sure if that would be enough.
If it had been just another Dark Lord, that was one thing. Even if they were trying to copy the previous one, Lord Voldemort. But to have one return to life after being dead for a decade was something completely different. That rang of a Necromancer of the highest degree. Gellert Grindelwald, who helped in the death of millions as human sacrifices, experimented on humans freely, and is still seen as the most powerful Dark Lord in the past eight hundred years; even he was not known as a Necromancer of any renown, shying away from those dark paths in favor of other forms of mysticism. The last True Necromancers weren't around since the Khans ruled in the east.
If the Dark Lord Voldemort had truly returned from the dead then not only was he a Necromancer and potentially an international threat, then likely he would eventually come after Harry himself. Harry had no intention of running from that battle. He had felt cheated when Lord Dragomir told him his families killer was already dead. That he killed his father, and then his mother, and then tried to kill Harry himself but couldn't. The man's power had broken and it killed him. It felt so… unsatisfying. But now…
When he had eventually stumbled across the red topped castle in Romania he had been mesmerized. The tall white buttresses and gleaming towers topped with red conical roofs, the old wooden drawbridge leading to the large court where four men worked in an honest to god smithy, women drew water from a well and carried it to and fro, and of course the stables, where he caught his first glimpse of winged horses. The smith and his apprentices had stopped and stared, the poor boy feeding the horses had stopped too and managed to get bit by a hungry hippogriff. It wasn't long after that that they all realized he wasn't supposed to be there and took him to Brogden Dragomir.
Harry had been smitten with the place the first time he walked through the arched gates of the castle and jumped at the opportunity to live there. That's when he met the vampire Manole, his caretaker, and not long after that the young Potter began to take lessons, absorbing everything he could about his new home and what they wished to teach him. They told him about magic… well they told him what he didn't already know. He didn't walk the whole way to Romania. He jumped.
It didn't take long before he got the attention of Lord Dragomir once more, and the man took him under his wing, apprenticing him, teaching him how to rule, how to act as judge, and eventually telling him about his own fame: He was the Boy Who Lived. The raven haired Potter had been so angry when he had heard that, that he had been famous when he was getting whipped by his uncle. That men and women raised glasses in his honor when he had been a starving four year old. That when he had laid under the cuppord under the stairs, crying because nobody loved him and nobody else could see the things he could, there had been people who would have given the world to have him be with them… but there he remained until he ran away himself.
He had grown out of his anger in time… or rather into his anger. It was still there, but it had its place and time, not constantly at the forefront of his mind.
Idly he realized he was in a position to start getting his revenge. Not that he would let the crimes committed on those unfortunates go unanswered anyway, but it would help justify the long nights and hardwork he was bound to put into it anyway.
Not for the first time Nymphadora Tonks was screaming her lungs out.
That damned… MAN had locked her in a gilded cage. She had spent the past eight hours yelling and pounding on the dark wood door that presumably led to the hall.
She had only done it constantly for the first hour or two before quieting down and listening for any sign of life, of which there was plenty. Anytime she heard someone come near she would start yelling again, flicking her wand at the lock and trying to get the door to open up so she could find her dear aunt Bellatrix.
So, with her ear up against the door and grown to about three times its normal size, she was quite startled when someone tapped on her shoulder. With a shriek she spun and fell on her butt, the wand in her hand shooting purple sparks up to the ceiling.
Glaring up at the young man her hair went the same shade as her face.
The long haired man just chuckled, putting a hand out to the young woman. After shifting her glare towards the offered limb she stood up on her own, making herself tall enough to look him straight in the eye.
The man responded by making himself a few inches taller, getting two raised eyebrows in response before the girl shrunk herself back down to her 'normal' height. "Neat trick." She commented as he shrunk himself back down as well.
"I always said the same thing. I was just coming over to let you know that you are officially the head of your groups… diplomatic team. We will be leaving in two hours for Nuremburg, so I hope you have gotten enough sleep. I know I had a particularly restful morning after I had been chased out of the rooms I've held for the past five years. You wouldn't happen to know who's been pounding on doors do you? The elves keep telling me that it wasn't Mrs. Lestrange."
Instead of blushing she just gave the man a flat look, "Not a clue. But now that I have your attention…"
"I will not take any side in the British Civil War, at least not without the approval of the I.C.W.." he said, getting a pout from the heart faced woman.
"Upsetting," she said, "But not what I really wanted to ask. I am an Auror with the British Ministry of Magic. Yet in my time there nobody has mentioned anything about the Empire or composing Ministries. There has always, since I can remember, been just… the Ministry."
Frowning he gestured towards her chambers. Inside she found that she had been standing in the vestibule the entire time. Entering the antechamber they both sat in chairs by one of the tables, the so far unnamed boy snapping his fingers. After a few seconds two bowls appeared before them with what looked like yellow mush. Giving it an apprehensive look she saw her host glance over at her with amusement over his spoon full of yellow.
"Balmoş." He said answering her unasked question, "We try to keep it simple in the castle, but we can cook up some pork and eggs if you would like, Filip is more than willing to accommodate guests request. Usually he simply makes up large batches of balmoş or mamaliga, depending on what he is in the mood for." Eventually the girl bucked up, muting her taste buds to nothing, and started eating. Eventually they were done and the man looked her over as she scrapped the last bits off with an engorged tongue.
"I guess I shall explain things as they were explained to me. I'm no historian, so I won't go into dates and preceding events, but the International Confederation of Warlocks was formed by its current seven magical Nations: The First Nation of Atlantis, the Jade Empire, the Carpathian Magical Government, the Mediterranean States, The Russian Magical Kingdom, Oceanus, and the British Empire. Each of these seven are then composed of their combined nations at the time of conception. Though India and America are no longer British territory, the British Empire still has control over them within the wizarding world. Each of the Nations sends forth one representative, if none is put forward than it is assumed that the nation's leader holds the title."
Once a person is put forward as representative of their particular nation then they are locked in unless the other six ask them to leave, they die, they willingly resign, their nation undergoes a regime change, or they are charged with crimes on an international level. Gellert Grindlewald for instance; he took control of the Mediterranean States and attempted to do the same to Carpathia. He named himself his own representative to the I.C.W. and would have been fine, as he was only acting within his own nation. And then, after muggles had already conquered the area that made up Carpathia, he made a move on the mountains. The I.C.W. disavowed him, named him a Dark Lord, and all the Nations joined in the Second World War, aiding their muggle counterparts as they could."
Albus Dumbledore was named to the post of the I.C.W. not long after, his predecessor resigning after the war as several others, including the Supreme Mugwump, did. I believe it was the Oceanus representative that put Dumbledore's name up for the Post of Supreme Mugwump, though I must admit I may be wrong on that. Either way he was, eventually, voted into the position by unanimous vote. I've been to the last seven quarterly meetings of the I.C.W. and outside of the Mugwumps absence this past August nothing has been amiss and nothing has been reported in regards to this… supposed Dark Lord. As it is I was not planning to attend the November meeting in two days…"
Here he gave the incredulous looking woman a stern look, "But plans change."
Shortly after Herald had left, allowing the woman to go down to the other rooms where most of her companions had been placed. The werewolf, 'Remes Lupin!' he remembered with a bit of a chuckle at the blatant naming, had been taken to the care of the other were's on the manor grounds, both so he could talk to them in private and so they could monitor him better.
One does not cage a werewolf.
All too soon he found himself outside the large apartment that had been made available to Bellatrix Lestrange and Walden Macnair. Two more disgusting people he could not imagine. Bellatrix, while a true noble lady, had developed… quirks. Macnair on the other hand was uncouth and openly hostile towards those with beast blood and even those who were nonhuman beings. The young Lord Vassal believed that the British wizards had been under the false impression that the Carpathian wizards had tamed or crushed those individuals under their rule.
With a quick knock he stuck his head into the vestibule and looked on into the much larger antechamber that the duo had been allotted.
"My Lord!" came the cooing sound of the… quirky Bellatrix. Right now she was… carving. It was the beginning of what looked to be a truly terrifying likeness of a Dementor. "Please come in, I was just passing the time until Greyback could join us for some more talks."
Frowning he looked towards the black lace clad witch, "Greyback has no place in our meetings. He is presenting his case to Cătălin who will give his input when I make my final decision. Even if Carpathia chooses to help your cause the werewolves may not. You know this already though, I explained that to you the first day my lady. You are a representative of Lord Voldemort of House Slytherin, while… Mister Macnair is a member of your own ministry."
The poor woman began blinking and flushed in embarrassment, "Of course my lord, it just… slipped my mind is all."
"Would you like me to send for Walentya?" he offered, getting a conflicted look from her, "I know Walden does not approve of her or any dwarf for that matter, but I can distract him while you two have a healing session. The International Healers Corp will always give aid to those who ask it."
He could tell she wanted to say yes, but she hesitated, "I… I would love nothing more than to take you up on that offer, Lord Vassel, but…" finally her look resolved, "A Black needs no help. The Lestranges always overcome."
'Ironic for a woman coming to ask aid for her cause.'
"As you wish my lady, but my offer still stands. The effects of exposure to Dementors is nothing to be ashamed of." Herald said at length, getting a brief and grateful look from the beautiful woman, "Alas I have come to tell you that we will be leaving in about an hour and a half for Nuremburg. I had not been planning to attend the quarterly in Lord Dragomir's absence, but I seemed to have received a few more guests. An Auror from the British… Ministry, arrived last night with several others. They seem to believe that Lord Voldemort of House Slytherin is an international threat and that he is instigating what you called… 'the unreasonable actions of the British government.' They even described in not so many details many of your own grievances against the Ministries of Britain." Here the already alabaster white woman paled, her eyes narrowing in what could only be anger or confusion.
"My Lord-" she began harshly, only for the younger man to cut her off with a hand gently raised to stop her.
"No matter who is telling the truth," he went on, "I know now that what you have all claimed about the state of the British Empire and its Ministries, which everyone seems to think are synonymous with one another rather than being the whole and its parts, is at least mostly true. If you desire, I shall allow you to either accompany me and my newest prisoners to the I.C.W. or leave so you can return to the Isle's. Carpathia is not Britain, and you have committed no international crimes. I can promise you that no harm will come to you or yours if you do take up my offer."
The enigmatic Mrs. Lestrange glared at him for a brief moment before turning her stare to the ground. That was another thing he had noticed, another little quirk. When she started to think she would look straight down. He supposed that it was something she'd had to do while imprisoned. Perhaps as the guards passed by, or to keep warm she would burrow her head in closer to her body.
Whatever happened, Harry hoped he never stepped foot on Azkaban.
Eventually she responded that they would go with and he took his leave.