Quick Author's Note: This is a Denmark centric chapter, told mainly from Harry's point of view. There will be little to no Iceland appearances, but definitely some mentions. This is the chapter were the seeds of suspicion about Iceland and Denmark are planted, though he hasn't gotten to the Hetalia x Harry Potter golden standard of running around accusing them of being Death Eaters or something yet.
"Will it be Aurors who catch them?"
"Oh no, this is too trivial for Aurors, it'll be the ordinary Magical Law Enforcement Patrol — ah, Harry, this is Perkins."
A stooped, timid looking old wizard wit fluffy white hair had just entered the room, panting, Mathias following right behind, his small hat sat even more crookedly on his head than usual, suggesting he had been in a rush.
"Oh Arthur!" 'Perkins' said desperately, without looking at Harry. "Thank goodness, I didn't know what to do for the best, whether to wait for you here or not, I've just sent an owl to your home but you've obviously missed it, this young man came in to tell me you were already here — an urgent message came ten minutes ago —"
"I know about the regurgitating toilet," said Mr. Weasley. Harry was very sure (some details of that morning became blurred with the sudden panic he was being put through) he saw Mathias face-palm, making him snicker.
"No, no it's not the toilet, it's the Potter boy's hearing — they've changed the time and venue — it starts at eight o' clock now and it's down in old Courtroom Ten —" Mathias started to tap his foot impatiently, looking distinctly annoyed with how long the communication process was taking.
"Down in old — but they told me — Merlin's beard —"
Mr. Weasley looked at his watch, yet out a yelp, and leapt from his chair. Harry noted with vague amusement (since he was now starting to panic even more than he was that morning) that Mathias now went from looking as if he was ready to murder the two old men in the room to sprinting out the door.
Perkins flattened himself against the filing cabinets as Mr. Weasley left the office at a run, following after Mathias, Harry on his heels.
"Why have they changed the time?" Harry said breathlessly as they hurtled past the Auror cubicles; people poked out their heads and stared as they streaked past. Harry though he had left all his insides back at Perkins's desk.
"I've no idea, but thank goodness we got here so early, if you'd missed it it would have been catastrophic!"
Mathias had skidded to a halt besides the lifts and jabbed impatiently at the down button, Mr. Weasley and Harry joining him.
"Come ON!"
The lift clattered into view and the hurried inside. Every time it stopped Mathias and Mr. Weasley would curse furiously and pummel the number nine button on either side o the elevator. Harry was pretty sure he saw the button on Mathias' side crack.
"Those courtrooms haven't been used in years," said Mr. Weasley angrily. "I can't think why they're doing it down there — unless — but no..." Mathias shot a sympathetic look with underlying fury at Mr. Weasley.
A plump witch carrying a smoking goblet entered the lift at that moment, and neither Mr. Weasley nor Mathias elaborated.
"The Atrium," said the cool female voice and the golden grilles slid open, showing Harry a distant glimpse of the golden statues in the fountain. The plump witch got out and sallow-skinned wizard with a very mournful face got in.
"Morning, Arthur," he said in a sepulchral voice as the lift began to descend. "Don't often see you down here..."
"Urgent business, Bode," said Mr. Weasley, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet and throwing anxious looks over at Harry. Mathias was starting to look calmer, as if he had done this thousands of times before.
"Ah, yes," said Bode, surveying Harry unblinkingly. "Of course."
Harry barely had any emotion to spare for Bode, but his unfaltering gaze did not make him feel any more comfortable.
"Department of Mysteries," said the cool female voice, and left it at that.
"Quick, Harry," said Mr. Weasley as the lift doors rattled open, and they sped up a corridor that was quite different from those above. The walls were bare; there were no windows and no doors apart from a plain black one set at the very end of the corridor. Harry expected them to go through it, but instead both Mr. Weasley and Mathias seized him by different arms and dragged him to the left, where there was an opening leading to a flight of steps.
"Down here, down here," panted Mr. Weasley, taking two steps at a time. Mathias was taking the steps by fives, landing more gracefully than a cat on each one and not even breaking a sweat yet. Harry though this was strange, but pushed it to the back of his mind to think about it when this whole trial shenanigan was over. "The lift doesn't even come down this far... why they're doing it there..."
They reached the bottom of the steps and ran along yet another corridor, which bore a great resemblance to that which led to Snape's dungeon at Hogwarts, with rough stone wall and torches in brackets. The doors they passed here were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.
"Courtroom... ten.. I think... we're nearly... yes."
Mr. Weasley stumbled to a halt outside a grimy dark door with an immense iron lock and slumped against the wall, clutching at a stitch in his chest. Mathias smoothly skidded to a stop out side the door, grabbed Harry and started to brush him off.
"You need to catch your breath and cam down," Mathias said seriously, patting down the boy's hair, which had been messed up during the run. "Don't let them intimidate you, and be confident in your answers."
"Wait, why are you here?" Harry asked, suddenly realizing that, to his knowledge, the Dane had no reason to be present at the court meeting.
"Not important right now, just go along with whatever I say."
Mathias turned around, and Harry's heart was beating a violent tattoo against his Adam's apple. He swallowed hard and watched as Mathias turned the heavy-looking iron door handle, and stepped inside, the Dane staying outside and swinging the door shut.
Harry gasped; he could not help himself. The large dungeon he had entered was horribly familiar. He had not only seen it before, he had been here before: This was the place he had visited inside Dumbledore's Pensieve, the place where he had watch the Lestranges sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban.
The walls were made of dark stone, dimly lit by torches. Empty benches rose on either side of him, but ahead, in the highest benches of all, were many shadowy figures. They had been talking in low voices, but as the heavy door swung closed behind Harry and ominous silence fell.
A cold male voice rang across the courtroom.
"You're late."
"Sorry," said Harry nervously. "I-I didn't know the time had changed."
"That is not the Wizengamot's fault," said the voice. "An owl was sent to you this morning. Take your seat."
Harry dropped his gaze to the chair in the center of the room, the arms of which where covered in chains. He had seen those chains spring to life and bind whoever sat between them. His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked across the stone floor. When he sat gingerly on the edge of the chair the chains clinked rather threateningly but did not bind him. Feeling rather sick, he looked up at the people seated at the bench above.
There were about fifty of them, all, as far as he could see, wearing plum-colored robes with an elaborately worked silver W on the left-hand side of the chst and all staring down their noses at him, some with very austere expressions, others looks of frank curiosity.
In the very middle of the front row sat Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. Fudge was a portly man who often sported a lime-green bowler hat, though today he had dispensed with it; he had dispensed too with the indulgent smile he had once worn when he spoke to Harry. A broad, square-jawed witch with very short gray hair sat on Fudge's left; she wore a monocle and looked forbidding. On Fudge's right was another witch, but she was sitting so far back on the bench that her face was in shadow.
Harry could hear the door swing open and shut, and the tap, tap, tap, tap of footsteps approaching behind him. "Minister Fudge, it's been a while." He turned to see Mathias right behind his chair, looking up at the fatty man with a smile that was way too friendly to be anything but fake. Fudge's eyes widened when he saw the Dane, his face lightening several shades.
"A-ah, Mr. Collar-"
"Køhler," Mathias said calmly, though Harry could see the slight twitch in his smile, showing his annoyance at his last name being mispronounced.
"Yes, Mr. Koolah," Harry could the Dane tense, a glint in his eyes suggesting he was only just able to keep himself from attacking to stocky man, "it's a pleasure to see you again."
"Likewise."
"If I may ask, why we have the pleasure of your presence?"
"Well, since you don't seem to remember," Mathias' smiled widened, "the Scandinavian ambassador for the British Ministry alerted you that the Scandinavian review of he British Ministry of Magic was rescheduled for today. The Scandinavian Magical Government wanted to see what the fuss over a case of underage magic and minor infringement of the International Statute of Secrecy was about, and the appointment was scheduled to start at seven thirty, but you didn't seem to be in your office, and your secretary refused to tell me where you were at the time." Harry watched as Fudge seemed to pale several more shades as Mathias continued to speak. Harry couldn't come up with a good reason why the head of the Ministry of Magic would be so afraid of someone who couldn't even be twenty five yet! "I happened to hear that you yourself had rescheduled a court hearing to interfere with our meeting, so I decided to come down and see what was so important." Mathias' smile dropped, and he set a heavy gaze upon the Minister, though it wasn't quite a glare, but it was close. "And it seems you have decided it necessary to have the amount of court necessary for a murder trial to have a disciplinary hearing for a fifteen year old boy, the very one that the SMG requested to have a representative present at."
Mathias boots tapped as he crossed the room, and turned to sit down at the end of one of the benches. Despite the fact that almost all the Wizengamot members faces were covered in shadows, Harry could still somehow see the Dane's face in the dimly lit room. Mathias smiled as he crossed arms and legs simultaneously, seeming to send shivers down the spines of every political figure in that room, and most definitely Harry's.
"It's a good thing I showed up then, yes? Wouldn't want you to be impeached for irresponsible behavior, would we?" Fudge was almost translucent at this point, very close to visibly shaking, though you could see his tremors if you squinted.
"N-no, of course not, Mr. Koolah," Harry almost didn't catch the stumble in the Minister's words, but he had to wonder, what about the Dane was so frightening? "I-if you would please wait a little while, I will address your woes as soon as possible."
"Of course."
Harry was thoroughly unnerved, as he watched Mathias pull out a small book, and started to write, glancing up every once in a while. As the trial progressed Dumbledore showed up, but Harry couldn't help but glancing over to the Dane several times, his very presence making the young boy uncomfortable. He felt as if he was trying to answer questions at his trial with a full army standing behind him, the strange feeling causing him to stutter and stumble his words multiple times throughout the trial. Once the trial was over, Dumbledore's abrupt departure having taken Harry completely by surprise, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Mathias standing behind him, glaring up at the minister. The Dane shook his head and looked down at Harry.
"C'mon, let's get out of here, kid." The Wizengamot were all getting to their feet, talking, and gathering up their papers and packing them away. Harry stood up. Nobody (minus Mathias) seemed to be paying him the slightest bit of attention except the toad-like witch on Fudge's right, who was now gazing down at him instead of at Dumbledore. Ignoring her, he tried to catch Fudge's eye, or Madam Bone's, wanting to ask whether he was free to go, but Fudge seemed quite determined not to notice Harry, and Madam Bones was busy with her briefcase, so he followed Mathias' urging and took a few tentative steps toward the exit and when nobody called him back, broke into a very fast walk. Mathias chuckled at his behavior, the tall man keeping pace with him with little to no effort, his long stride carrying him across the room to the exit in a few seconds.
Harry took the last few steps at a run, wrenched open the door, and almost collided with Mr. Weasley, who was standing right outside, looking pale and apprehensive. Mathias easily dodged the two bodies blocking the exit.
"Dumbledore didn't say —"
"Cleared," Harry said, pulling the door closed after Mathias exited, "of all charges!"
Beaming, Mr. Weasley seized Harry by the shoulders.
"Harry, that's wonderful! Well, of course, they couldn't have found you guilty, not on the evidence, but even so, I can't pretend I wasn't —"
But Mr. Weasley broke off, because the courtroom door had just opened again. The Wizengamot were filing out.
"Merlin's beard," sad Mr. Weasley wonderingly, pulling Harry aside to let them all pass, Mathias stepping back on his own, "you were tried by the full court?"
"I think so," said Harry quietly, at the same time Mathias said, "Yes."
One or two of the passing wizards nodded to Hay as they passed and a few, including Madam Bones, said, "Morning Arthur," to Mr. Weasley, but most averted their eyes. Almost half greeted Mathias, and Harry only became more confused about the Dane. Cornelius Fudge and the toad-like witch were almost the last to leave the dungeon. Fudge acted as though Mr. Weasley and Harry were part of the wall, but again, witch looked almost appraisingly at Harry as she passed. Neither seemed to notice Mathias, who looked thoroughly ticked that his meeting with the Minister was being treated as if it wasn't good enough for the portly man's time. Last of all to pass was Percy. Like Fudge, he completely ignored his father and Harry; he marched right past clutching a large roll of parchment and a handful of spare quills, his back rigid and his nose in the air. The lines around Mr. Weasley's mouth tightened slightly, but other than this he gave no sign that he had noticed his third son.
"JÁ, KAKTUS GÆI! VEISTU HVERSU ERFITT ÞAÐ VAR AÐ FINNA ÞIG?!" Many heads turned up as a loud screeching voice was heard throughout the hallway, a small black puffin flying through the air to attack the spikes that was Mathias' hair. The tall man smiled as he reached up to grab the bird, which only growled (birds could growl?) at him, dropping a letter (though it looked more like a thin package) into Mathias' open palm. The puffin hissed.
"Þakka þér fyrir, litli lundi," Mathias said, releasing what Harry had just realized was Emil's puffin, which only hissed once more and flapped away. Mathias smoothly ripped the envelope open and smiled when he saw the note scribbled onto a small piece of paper that fell out, along with another envelope, this one looking stiff and formal, like one of those ones you imagine someone in a high-up office using. Harry tried to get up onto his tiptoes to read the note, but was unable to read any Icelandic.
Ég fékk heimildir og skrifaði bréf fyrir þig. Meðfylgjandi er formleg yfirlýsing (hótun) og bréf frá öllum fimm galdraráðherrunum. Pældu ekki í því hverning ég fékk þetta gert svona hratt, ég bara er virkilega illa við England.
"Stadig gal om Torskekrigen, jeg ser," Mathias chuckled, before shaking his head and turning to face Mr. Weasley and Harry. "Sorry, I need to go meet with Minister Fudge, I'll catch you guys later at the house," and without any further words, Mathias' turned on his heel, his long trench coat swished and flared behind him as he disappeared into the crowd.
"I don't think private matters between myself and the Minister are any concern of yours, Potter," said Malfoy, smoothing the front of his robes; Harry distinctly head the gentle clinking of what sounded like a full pocket of gold. "Really, just because you are Dumbledore's favorite boy, you must not expect the same indulgence from the rest of us... Shall we go up to your office, then, Minister?"
"Certainly," said Fudge, turning his back on Harry and Mr. Weasley. "This way, Lucius." The portly man suddenly jumped when a hand appeared on his shoulder, causing both him and Harry to notice Mathias turning up for the first time.
"So should I reschedule the review, since you seem to be so busy, Minister Fudge?" Mathias asked coldly, though there was friendly smile on his face. Harry shuddered.
"A-ah, Denmark —" Why would the Minister of Magic refer to Mathias as Denmark?
"Mathias Køhler —"
"— Mr. Koolah, then," Mathias 'tch'ed, "I was only —"
"I'll take that as a yes then, I am a busy man minister, and I have work to go catch up on since you have wasted several hours of my time." Mathias calmly handed the envelope to the Minister, who accepted it with a shaking hand. "I must take my leave now."
"O-of c-course." Mathias smiled and spun around and head right towards Harry and Mr. Weasley with an infuriated expression. The Minister turned around shakily and headed towards the lifts. Mathias just stood next to the two wizards, who were looking at him with mild concern as he shook with rage. The second the lift doors closed, the storm was unleashed.
Mathias spun around and kicked the wall, his foot resting what was probably a good fifteen centimeters in, shocking Harry and Mr. Weasley who took a couple steps back from the raging Dane. The man ripped his foot out of the wall and tugged at his hair as he screamed at the ceiling. The hallway might have been empty, but Harry was worried that the people outside of the Ministry building would hear the roar.
"EVERY SINGLE TIME! I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL SLAUGHTER THAT MAN ONE OF THESE DAYS! EVERY SINGLE TIME HE HAS AN EXCUSE!" the Dane continued to rant and rage, calmly slightly by the time their lift reached the Ministry lobby, having by then turned to muttering ways to torture Fudge. Harry listened with mild interest, wondering where he got the idea of tying the Minister's limbs to horse and having the animals run in opposite directions to tear the man apart and dismember Fudge. Well, Mathias was creative, if anything.
The doors slid open and they stepped out into the now almost deserted Atrium. Eric the security man was hidden behind his Daily Prophet again. They had walked straight pas the golden fountain before Harry remembered.
"Wait..." he tole Mr. Weasley and Mathias, and pulling his money bag from his pocket, he turned back to the fountain.
He looked up into the handsome wizard's face, but up close, Harry thought he looked rather weak and foolish. The witch was wearing a vapid smile like a beauty contestant, and from what Harry knew of goblins and centaurs, they were most unlikely to be caught staring this soppily at humans of any description. Only the house-elf's attitude of creeping servility looked convincing. With a grin at the thought of what Hermione would say if she could see the statue of the elf, Harry turned his money bag upside down and emptied not just ten Galleons, but the whole contents into the pool at the statue's feet.
Harry stumbled forward as he felt a thump on his back, and glanced to the side to see a still-pissed-off Mathias standing there, frowning at the sign beside the pool.
All proceeds from the Fountain of Magical Brethren will be given to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
Harry was confused for a moment as for why the Dane would be mad at a charity, before remembering that in the Nordic nations, according to Emil, the government paid for medical and health care and that such charities as these were rarely needed. Mathias shook his head before smiling at Harry.
"C'mon, kid. Let's get out of here."
JÁ, KAKTUS GÆI! VEISTU HVERSU ERFITT ÞAÐ VAR AÐ FINNA ÞIG?! - YES, CACTUS GUY! DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT WAS TO FIND YOU?!
Þakka þér fyrir, litli lundi - Thank you, little puffin
Ég fékk heimildir og skrifaði bréf fyrir þig. Meðfylgjandi er formleg yfirlýsing (hótun) og bréf frá öllum fimm galdraráðherrunum. Pældu ekki í því hverning ég fékk þetta gert svona hratt, ég bara er virkilega illa við England - I got sources and composed a letter for you. Attached is a formal statement (threat) and letters from all five Minister of Magic. Don't wonder how I got done so fast, I just really do not like England.
Stadig gal om Torskekrigen, jeg ser - Still mad about the Cod Wars, I see
Bad translations are bad. Apologies to anyone who actually speaks Icelandic or Danish, who cringe at Google Translate.
So now Harry had some suspicions about Denmark and, by extension, Iceland. Plot is starting to pick up slightly! Also, for a quick explanation of the Scandinavian Magical Government, which I briefly mentioned in the chapter. The idea behind it is based off of the Nordic Council, just magical! Since apparently most magical societies in the Harry Potter universe have existed for thousands of years, and apparently the Nordic countries are very stable and have smart government, I figured why not create a magical council? It is called the Scandinavian (Denmark, Norway, and Sweden) Magical Government is because I figured it would have been founded before Iceland was discovered and Finland made a free country, in which case it would probably be called the Nordic Magical Government. Also, with the whole 'Scandinavian Review' thing, I figured the International Conference of Wizards or whatever it's called would allow the individual confederations of wizards to check on each other once in a while to make sure no one is getting too powerful, kind of like America's Checks & Balances system (if you don't understand how it works, I honestly don't blame you. The American Government is weird, what, with the Electoral College and all [which, for foreigners who don't care about America, is why Donald Trump is president-elect for my country]).
Anyways, this week I got to go see Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, which was BEAUTIFUL and you should definitely go check it out, even if you are not a fan of Star Wars! Me and my brother, who I will note is two years ten months older than me, were once again been mistaken for twins while buying popcorn for the movie, which is kind of starting to get old. Also in my life, me and my friends have been going around finding pickup lines t and saying them to each other, and seeing how each other will react. Some of my favorites so far are: 'Are you from Stockholm? Because you're the Swedish girl I've ever met' and 'Are you from the Netherlands? Because AmsterDAMN'. Best moment so far is definitely when I turned to my very Australian mother at dinner and said 'Are you from Australia? Because you meet all of my Koala-fications' and without missing a beat my very American father said 'I think you just got yourself dis-koala-fied'. I think I know where my humor comes from now.
Anyways, until next week (or chapter or whatever), Hasta la Pasta!