Chapter 16

"Now, now, Mr Potter," Dumbledore said with a disapproving frown. "There is no need for such language."

Harry looked around the room with narrowed eyes until he finally stared at Dumbledore. "There is every reason for such language seeing as I was just kidnapped from my own home by your bird."

Dumbledore laughed as though Harry had just told the funniest joke he'd heard all week. "If you'd bothered to arrive on time for the Wand Weighing Ceremony, I needn't have sent Fawkes to fetch you."

Something dark and primal stirred in Harry's gut, feral magic that desperately wanted to lash out and put everyone in the room on their behinds for their sheer insolence. Harry took a few large steps towards the old man until he stood toe to toe with him. Harry had a few inches on Dumbledore and looked down at him, knowing his eyes must be glowing from his inner magical turmoil.

"If someone had bothered to let me know there was a meeting today, I would have been here on time, I assure you. But no one has yet told me one fucking thing about this tournament, which you entered me into illegally and involuntarily." If possible, Harry leaned even closer to Dumbledore, looming over him. Dumbledore's genial expression morphed into something new, something between fury and fear, and Harry relished it. "Know this, Mr Dumbledore. If you ever dare to send your bird to kidnap me again, I will see it as the act of aggression that it is, and I will respond in kind, is that understood?"

"Perfectly," Dumbledore whispered, blue eyes having lost their twinkle entirely.

"I am not one of your students that you can use as a puppet for your entertainment," Harry added, barely above a whisper. "You'd do well to remember that." And with that Harry took a few steps away from the old man.

Dumbledore inhaled a deep, shuddering breath and then raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and addressed the other, obviously shocked, occupants of the room. "Merely a misunderstanding, I assure you. All is fine."

"Mr Potter," Bartemius Crouch said before briefly clearing his throat. "I apologize for the oversight, but usually the students' Head of House or Headmaster informs them of the schedule. Obviously, you have neither, and we should have realized that. I will personally send you a complete schedule of the tournament this afternoon."

Harry had calmed down a little and he gave Crouch a big grin. "That, and a complete rulebook, would be much appreciated." Harry briefly glared at Dumbledore before addressing Crouch again. "And seeing how Dumbledore finally decided to remove the illegal mail ward he had on me, I should even be able to receive your mail."

"Perhaps it's time to start the ceremony," Dumbledore said quickly before anyone could react to that unexpected revelation. "Champions, over here. Mr Ollivander, if you're ready."

Harry stood to the side, letting the other champions go first. V sat on his shoulder and gave Fawkes the phoenix narrow-eyed looks. "Bad bird, bad bird."

"We'll put up some wards to keep that thing out, don't worry," Harry whispered to his companion.

Ollivander, the wandmaker who had all but kicked Harry out of his shop a couple of weeks before, examined all the champion's wands in a ceremony that was not only dreadfully boring but also a complete waste of time.

Finally, it was Harry's turn. Without pause, Harry pulled his wand out of his satchel and all but shoved it into Ollivander's hands, who seemed particularly reluctant to accept it. His hands even shook a little.

"Ah yes," Ollivander said, holding Harry's wand as though it was a live cobra. "Not from any wandmaker I'm familiar with."

And Harry was about to make up some story about an imaginary wandmaker from Santika when something occurred to him. Something that should have occurred to him a lot sooner, probably, but then again, Harry had no experience how to act when being forced to move from one society to another one, and he was basically just winging it.

What occurred to Harry was that no one in that room, or in fact in the entire wizarding world, knew what Santika was like. No one knew what kind of magic was used there, or how it was used in the first place. So for all that they knew, it was perfectly normal in Santika for sorcerers to make their own wands. They had no evidence to the contrary.

"I made it," Harry said with a warm smile that he poured a nice amount of nostalgia into. "It's a rite of passage in Santika, to make your own wand that you'll use throughout adulthood."

"Fascinating," Ollivander said, now carefully turning Harry's wand over in his hands as though it might jump up at any time and poke his eye out. "Cyprus and… raven feather?"

"Indeed," Harry said and gestured to V on his shoulder. "My friend here was kind enough to make a donation."

"Veles is a very good bird," V said and Harry had a hard time holding back his snort of amusement. V took great delight in pretending to be just a clever, talking bird to keep people from guessing he was so much more. Really, if this whole horcrux thing didn't work out for V, he should become an actor.

"No wonder the wand responds so well to you and displays such loyalty." Ollivander waved it around as quickly as he could and five or so bats appeared over their heads. A few people around them ducked, covering their heads with their hands but the bats only flapped around a little in confusion before going to roost in the dark curtains beside the window.

Harry accepted his wand back and slipped it inside his satchel while Ollivander gave him an apprehensive look but didn't say anything else.

"Well, that concludes the ceremony," Dumbledore said with a few claps of his hand.

"Pictures next!" a woman said while she advanced on Harry and the other champions, herding them all into a corner. "Mr Potter, I'm Rita Skeeter. Perhaps you'll have time for a quick interview later?"

"I'm afraid not," Harry said with an expression of utmost regret. "I am kept very busy with adjusting myself to this new world I suddenly find myself in."

Skeeter narrowed her eyes at Harry, but let her photographer get in lots of shots without interruption. V took great delight in posing on Harry's shoulder, raising his head this way or that, and spreading his wings for dramatic purposes. Harry simply stared ahead, already tired of this whole game.

"Thank you," the photographer finally said, and Harry immediately marched to the door without giving anyone a chance to stop him.

"Mr Potter!" Skeeter tried but Harry simply ignored her and used his large strides to put some serious distance between himself and the others in no time.

Harry found himself in an unknown corridor somewhere in Hogwarts, V glancing around curiously before pointing his beak to the right. "There, there."

V knew more about Hogwarts' layout than Harry did, so he followed his companion's directions until they came to a grand staircase. Just as Harry rushed down the stairs, taking two steps at a time, a voice called out to him.

"Lad!" Moody came clunking out of a corridor, frantically waving at Harry, Patroclus floating by his side. "Laddie. We've missed you."

Harry's first instinct was to dismiss Moody the imposter, but then he realized this was an opportune moment to forward some vital information to Voldemort. As far as Harry knew, Voldemort was still operating under the assumption that the prophecy related to him and was still in play. It was probably a good idea that Voldemort learn as soon as possible that this wasn't the case at all, lest he personally try to involve Harry in a war Harry had no intention to fight in.

"Mr Moody," Harry said with a friendly smile as he stopped his descend and approached Moody. "I've been kept far too busy, I must confess." And then Harry hung his head a little, rubbing a hand across his face as though it was all a little too much for him.

"Ah, laddie," Moody said in a sympathetic voice while patting him on the shoulder. "Let's have a cuppa, shall we?"

"We shall!" Harry eagerly followed Moody back to his office, but just before they reached the door a bug landed on his arm.

Except it wasn't a bug, because Harry could very clearly sense the thing had a human soul. A very sharp, rather slimy soul. Harry wasn't sure what to do for a moment, certain that this was an Animagus who thought they could spy on him or something like that.

Just as Harry decided he'd just pluck the bug off and toss it down the corridor, V shifted on his shoulder, eyeing the bug on Harry's opposite arm with narrowed eyes. V was as sensitive to souls as Harry was, so he must also realize this was a person and not an insect.

Before Harry could stop him, V leaned forward, picked the bug off Harry's arm, crushed it between his large beak and swallowed it whole.

Harry quickly bit his lip so he wouldn't burst out into laughter. Whoever this person had was, they hadn't been very bright to think that being a bug was safe in any way. Honestly, you'd think any manner of critters would try to eat it, or people would simply crush it in annoyance.

"Dumb bug," V chattered in a snooty tone, beak in the air.

Ah well. Harry figured they'd see soon enough who had suddenly gone missing in Remus' newspaper that he received every morning. Harry put it out of his mind and followed Moody into his office.

And so for the second time, Harry found himself sitting in Moody the imposter's office, now with a cup of tea in front of him that he ignored.

"So what's eating you, laddie?" Moody asked while his artificial eye was looking at Harry from all directions.

V chattered with laughter for a moment while Harry bit his lip again to keep his own amusement hidden. What a delicious pun Moody had just unknowingly made.

Leaning back in his chair, Harry released a deep, deep sigh. "Well, getting kidnapped in a column of flames this morning wasn't any fun."

Moody chuckled knowingly for a moment. "What has Albus done now?"

"Forgot to tell me there was a meeting and when I obviously didn't show up he sent his bird to kidnap me from my own home."

"That man." Moody sat back in his seat as well as he tilted his head. "Albus has gotten a little too arrogant in his older years, I'm sorry to say."

"Is that what it is?" Harry asked with clear humour in his voice. "Arrogance? I'm not sure that explains his insistence that a prophecy that was fulfilled years ago is still active today and I should act on it. That's senility, not arrogance."

Moody, whose whole face had been crinkled in quiet amusement, sat up ramrod straight and stared at Harry with his mouth opened slightly. "What was that? What prophecy?"

Harry looked down for a moment so Moody wouldn't see the shine of glee in his eyes. "Dumbledore showed me a prophecy that he said was about me and Voldemort. I didn't buy any of that, so I went to the Department of Mysteries, and they confirmed that said prophecy had already been fulfilled years ago and was never about Voldemort in the first place."

"How…how…how," Moody swallowed several times, face paling rapidly. "How was it fulfilled then?"

Harry waved his hand around in a dismissive gesture, as though none of this was even remotely interesting. "In Santika, there was a Dark Lord, much more powerful than Voldemort can ever hope to be. I took him out when I was 17, and as it turns out, the prophecy was always about him and me. It's as simple as that."

"I see." Moody looked like he might pass out any moment now. "Do you have any evidence of that?"

"Well, I took the darkened prophecy orb home with me," Harry said with a shrug, secretly really enjoying Moody the imposter's extreme reactions. "I'm using it as a paperweight, currently."

Moody released a high-pitched stream of laughter that had an obviously hysterical edge to it. "That is…unexpected."

"Not really," Harry said and offered Moody a wide grin. "I've never put much stock in soothsayers and fortune-tellers. I much rather make my own fate. This reminds me, I'm thinking of putting up some anti-phoenix wards on my new country. Where can I find some?"

Moody seemed a little calmer now, though he still looked decidedly pale, but at least his arteficial eye was spinning again. "I have an… associate who's created some amazing wards to keep phoenixes out. I'll ask him if he's willing to share."

Harry waited a heartbeat, well aware what sort of hint he'd just dropped for Moody and now he was waiting for it to be picked up.

"Wait… your own country?" Moody asked, eyes widening again. "You're going to have to give me more than that, laddie."

Harry laughed, throwing his head back. "Ah, Mr Moody, I'll gladly give you everything. I learned that most of the magic I use is illegal in this country, so I simply created my own, where I can have my own laws and where no magic is illegal."

If anything, Moody was now looking even paler than before as he sat frozen again, staring at Harry but not really seeing him. "What? How? Where?"

"I've created land before," Harry said in the kind of tone he might use to describe the weather forecast. "Once you know how to do it, there's really nothing to it. I created an island far off the coast of southern Ireland, and I'm now in the process of turning it into a complete ecosystem. It's hard but rewarding work."

"That is…I'm not sure what to say." Moody briefly shook his head. "That is either the most genius thing I've ever heard, or the most insane."

"It can't be both?" Harry said with a wink.

Moody released a hoarse bark of laughter. "Are you going to invite people to live there eventually?"

"Absolutely," Harry said, sitting up a little while he warmed up to the subject. "I've got two residents already, but in the future, anyone who wants can come live there as long as they obey the rules. It is a completely magical country, no muggles anyone needs to hide from, so everyone will be able to perform magic freely."

Moody the imposter actually got a little misty eyed at hearing that. "Let me guess, the first two residents are Lupin and Black." When Harry nodded in reply, Moody said, "That explains where they disappeared off to. Albus was complaining just the other day he'd tried floo-calling them a few times to no avail."

Harry gave Moody a small, knowing smile. "Silgram, that is the name of my country, doesn't extradite people, not even wanted criminals."

Ah yes, now Moody had to look down to hide some very real emotions that passed over his face. Harry and his family of spies had by then theorized that the imposter was in fact Barty Crouch Jr, and Sirius had told Harry about Barty's brief stint in Azkaban. Obviously, Barty had escaped somehow while faking his own death, and if any of that ever came out he'd very much be a wanted criminal. Silgram must sound like paradise to him.

"That is…er…" Moody had to clear his throat a few times before he could continue. "Lunch is over and I've got classes to teach, lad."

"I'll leave you to it, then," Harry said as he got up from his seat, knowing Moody was going to run to Voldemort the first chance he got, and of course both Patroclus and Auntie Eustice would be there to witness it. Harry couldn't wait to hear a full report about what Voldemort would have to say about Harry's revelations.

Harry left a rather stunned-looking Moody behind in his office, and hurried down the main staircase towards the entrance hall.

The reason why he'd told Moody about Silgram was because he wanted to get that rumour started, that there was a new magical country. And he wanted to get that rumour started specifically amongst dark wizards, because those were ultimately the main immigration target, though Harry would welcome light wizards, too, of course. He just didn't want Silgram to be flooded with light wizards first before any dark population could be established, because that might give the light wizards the impression they could shape Silgram to their desires and Harry wasn't about to let that happen.

Once Harry exited the castle, without anymore interruptions, thankfully, he decided to check up on Keket. He strolled across the wide lawn while V spread his wings and flew over his head in large circles.

"Keket!" Harry called as he walked up and down the treeline, looking for his oldest friend. "Girl, where are you?"

"Harry!"

Whipping around on his feet, Harry saw the groundskeeper, Hagrid, approaching him. "Ah, Mr Hagrid, have you seen my friend Keket?"

"Aye, she's resting in my home," Hagrid said, gesturing at Harry to follow him. "She's been spending a lot o' time huntin' the spiders. I had a good talk with 'er, told 'er to leave Aragog alone but the centaurs had been complainin' about Aragog's offspring, so she's been lowering their numbers."

Harry followed Hagrid inside a cosy hut, where he found Keket stretched out on the grimy couch with some kind of hound lying half on top of her, both of them fast asleep.

"Well," Harry said with a smile aimed at Hagrid. "I'm glad to see she made some new friends."

"Aye," Hagrid replied, ducking his head a little. "She's a right sweet girl, that one."

"That she is."

V glared at Keket and clicked his beak. "Lazy beast, lazy beast."

Keket rumbled in response but couldn't even be bothered to open her eyes.

Hagrid poured them both large mugs of tea, and this time Harry actually drank some while he low-key interrogated Hagrid about all the creatures that lived in the Forbidden Forest and surrounding lands. Hagrid mentioned centaurs and merpeople, and Harry figured he might at some point, once Silgram was a little more established, extend an invitation to them to live in his new country. After all, what was a magical country without magical creatures? Naturally, he'd also offer an invitation to some unicorns, hippogriffs and all the other animals Hagrid told him about.

"Thank you for the tea." Harry got up and looked down at Keket with a fond smile. "Do you want to come and see our new home for yourself, girl?"

Keket rumbled a time or two, finally opened her four eyes and then slid off the couch in one slow, fluid movement while she stretched her legs and opened her mouth wide in a yawn, showing off her many sharp, silver teeth.

"What a beauty," Hagrid sighed. "She's welcome here anytime."

"I'm sure she'll want to return to hunt the forest again soon." Keket followed Harry out of the hut and across Hogwarts' grounds, and the second they passed the gates, Harry placed his hand on her head and apparated the three of them home. He sincerely hoped Moody would come up with those phoenix wards soon, because it did not sit well with Harry that a fucking bird had been able to snatch him from his own country without warning.

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Voldemort was seated in his favourite armchair in front of a window in his office, reading a fascinating book on the travels of a zoologist in search of a lethifold that had been terrorizing a nearby town in Indonesia. It was almost written as popular fiction, but it was a true account of an impossible hunt to kill an unkillable creature, and it was a surprisingly suspenseful read.

The wards flared and Voldemort reluctantly closed his book, bookmarker firmly in place so he could continue reading once Barty's business with him was done.

Barty came limping inside his office, still wearing Moody's body, and without saying anything pulled a memory out of his head with his wand, dumped it into the pensieve and then all but threw himself in a chair.

"My Lord, brace yourself," was all Barty said, and while feeling both curious and apprehensive, Voldemort approached the pensieve.

Voldemort lowered his head to the pensieve, fell into the memory, and when he pulled back out some fifteen minutes later, he was a changed man.

Truly, it was as if from that moment on there existed two versions of Voldemort. The one from before viewing The Memory, and the new one, come to life after viewing The Memory. It was safe to say that Voldemort's entire world had just upended itself, fell over in all directions, and was no longer recognizable as a place Voldemort had once lived in.

Everything had changed.

Everything.

"My Lord," Barty said, quickly jumping up from his own chair and pushing another one under Voldemort's behind when it became clear Voldemort's legs could no longer support him and he was about to fall over like a common drunkard. Barty was back to looking like himself but Voldemort hardly noticed it.

"The prophecy," Voldemort whispered, staring ahead at nothing at all, his whole body trembling but with what he wasn't sure. "The prophecy."

"I know," Barty said quietly as he sat back down in his own chair and gave Voldemort a concerned look.

"Do you believe Potter is lying?" Voldemort asked, still staring straight ahead.

"It didn't seem like it," Barty said with a helpless shrug. "I can ask him to show me the darkened orb as proof."

"Perhaps, perhaps," Voldemort mused, his head entirely empty yet full of questions all at the same time. "If this is true then…everything…"

"I know," Barty whispered again.

"Everything," Voldemort said again, finally sitting up a little and looking at his loyal servant. "The old man has a lot to answer for, trying to take a prophecy that wasn't about me and using it to see me dead."

Barty chuckled, but it wasn't much of an amused sound. "The old man pissed Potter off, too, this morning."

"Ah yes, the phoenix wards he asked about." Voldemort briefly narrowed his eyes. Of course, he'd created wards to keep that infernal bird out many decades ago. He could share them with Potter, but Voldemort was a Slytherin and such things did come at a price. He just wasn't sure yet what to charge Potter.

Because as it stood now, if Potter had told the truth about the prophecy, then Potter was no longer his enemy, unless Potter himself decided to raise his wand against Voldemort. And from what Voldemort had seen so far, Potter didn't seem very inclined to do such a thing.

"What do you make of Potter creating his own country, my Lord?" Barty asked quietly, eyes wide as he stared at Voldemort.

It was, if Voldemort was completely honest with himself, an utterly brilliant move.

Of course, Voldemort had about a million and more questions about it. How had Potter managed such a thing, what magic had he used, how did he plan to convince the international community that his country was a sovereign nation and more.

But the plan in and of itself, the creation of a new country that allowed all magic, was absolutely brilliant.

Here Voldemort had gone to war over control of magical Britain, had lost loyal subjects, had ended whole family lines of powerful, magical people, and had yet to see any real results in his quest to bring back forbidden magics and ensure dark magic was treated equally.

And here Potter was, who simply created his own country where all magic was allowed and accomplished everything in two weeks that Voldemort had fought and bloody well died for over the span of almost fifty years.

Brilliant.

But also absolutely infuriating because why the hell had Voldemort never thought of this himself?

For the first time since regaining his body and more of his soul than he'd had in decades, Voldemort was tempted to curse Barty just for the hell of it, just because he was absolutely furious about anyone, but especially Potter, solving the issues that Voldemort could not.

But Voldemort was a changed man now, and he kept all those dark emotions inside while he gave Barty a steady look. "I have to see it to believe it. But a magical country that allows all magic certainly has potential."

"Yeah." Barty's grin was wide and hopeful. "I'd like to see it, too."

Voldemort matched Barty's grin with one of his own. "Well then, my friend, shall we trade some phoenix wards for a personal tour of this new land?"