8

XV. Cohesion

While some fights and issues are basically inevitable, it is still a good villain's job to keep the peace among their subordinates, or at the very least appoint someone who will. Sitting down to play therapist isn't exactly the most menacing look, but it's possible to frame it as personal attention lavished on them by you, which is, of course, something to be cherished and strived for. Of course, make sure competition for your attention doesn't spiral into something destructive.

Agathe had an odd sort of role on the island. On the one hand, she was a seal- she hunted for fish and swam in the deep, but on the other hand she spent significant amounts of time as a human, helping out around the island and doting on Teddy. Of course, almost everyone doted on Teddy a little, it was hard not to.

She seemed to slot herself in pretty comfortably with the little clique of Veela. They were all magical shape shifters, of course, but they also seemed to bond after a shared exasperation towards idiots that chased them. Veela attracted drooling idiots, Selkies- well, if they were lucky they attracted an idiot who picked a bad hiding place for the seal skin…

Of course, Harry made sure that she got her hands on a wand- the core was Veela hair, from one of her new friends- and while Harry wanted to run her through the basics, the vampires and Veela politely insisted that they could manage.

Still, Harry tried to spend a little time with everyone. The vampires, of course, to make sure that they were properly fed and didn't need anything; he checked on the werewolves and how they were doing, both when it came to their transformations and their work on the castle; the Veela seemed as cheerful as always; and of course there was his godson.

Thankfully, Andromeda was there to pick up the slack when it came to raising Teddy, but Harry still did his best to help. It had taken a while to dawn him that his castle- still unnamed- would be the mold that made Teddy. Harry certainly hoped it would be a better home for a young wizard than Privet Drive (which admittedly wasn't that high of a bar, but Harry still worried).

Harry wondered if it was possible to skip years at Hogwarts. Considering the… circumstances around the castle, it was very possible Harry could start teaching Teddy the basics before he even got on the train. If Harry or one of the others made Teddy a wand instead of getting it from Ollivander, wouldn't that subvert the Trace entirely?

That was a remarkably fun idea- they were already outside of the Ministry's authority (did they even know he was here?) so why not just rub it in a little? He didn't like the Ministry, and it seemed like they didn't like him, or at least the people he cared about.

Thinking about it, his castle almost sounded like the setting for a joke. A vampire, a werewolf, and a Veela walk into a castle...

Harry's research into the feathered serpent was… interesting. The myths it mentioned were related to feathered serpent figures: Quetzalcoatl was the bonafide Aztec god of winds, dawn, knowledge, Venus, etc. and Kukulkan was a Maya deity particularly revered by the Itza people (the builders of Chichen Itza, if that wasn't evident).

Still, the main question was whether or not it was a god, or just some sort of super intelligent magical creature with incredible Legilimency skills. He supposed that a sufficiently magical creature might look divine, but at the same time Harry had definitive proof that there was something supernatural afoot in the world, more than just magic: the spirit persevered in ghosts, the afterlife was a place he almost visited… but was assigning the serpent godhood still a bridge too far?

Thinking too long on metaphysical matters like that tended to get a little tiring, but it did serve to unearth another piece of evidence, sort of. The snake's passing comment about a potential twin led to Harry doing some research, and sure enough Quetzalcoatl had a twin in some myths called Xolotl. A psychopomp that guided people to the afterlife, meaning Harry had, in an odd way, had a brush with him. Or that could have been the serpent screwing with him, somehow reading his memories of limbo and exploiting it.

The codices were interesting, but not as much of a help as Harry had initially hoped. There were a few different origin myths with several different potential mothers and different views on blood sacrifice (and oh boy, did the Aztecs have some nutty stuff on blood magic) that generally seemed kind of confused. That could have been because it was an old myth/legend that diverged in different areas, growing differently in different communities… but Harry wondered if multiple serpents were flying around and spreading multiple different origin stories.

Lots of the Aztec sources liked depicting Quetzalcoatl as a man; not a snake with a man's face or anything, but as human as a god could be. The fact that the name was also a title threw another fun wrench into things, but made Harry wonder if the feathered serpents had Selkie or animagus-like transformative abilities. Did feathered serpents serve as Quetzalcoatls, transforming into human form to fulfill duties, or was it a confidence? Some sort of illusion skill was also possible- could a feathered serpent screw with someone's head enough to make them perceive a man where a snake… stood? Hovered? Hell, Harry wasn't even entirely sure he would get a straight answer out of the snake- it's not like Harry could tell if the thing was lying through its exceptionally sharp teeth.

While the trip definitely gave Harry a lot to chew on, the Maya magic was neat- as were the Nahuatl texts he managed to find that people were willing to sell- and Harry thought some of the charms used in their buildings could be useful. The more delicate pieces of writing were translated and copied- Harry was still building a collection after all.

There were a few especially interesting texts on early Mesoamerican magicians called nahuals (or naguals)... Harry was very intrigued about their apparent ability to transfigure themselves into animals. Was it possible that there was another method to become an animagus? There were a few notes which he thought might be about becoming a nagual, and the process seemed faster than the accepted way to become an animagus, which involved holding a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month; however it did require getting super high on other drugs. Drugs that Harry suspected were closely regulated by the Mexican Magical Government.

He put it on the long list of things to look into, after he finished writing translations for Mary to look into.

Initially, Harry had figured that Agathe would get along with the Mermen, since they were both aquatic… this proved not to be the case. Whether it was because her aquatic form was a seal, or something about her odd dual nature, she just couldn't get along with the Mermen. Both parties grated on each other, a situation not helped by Agathe preying on what the Mermen considered their fish. The Mermen didn't like her around, but by her very nature Agathe craved the sea in the same way Harry craved food or drink.

Of course, Harry didn't want to see this escalate to the point that they were actually fighting, so he tried to step in. Both parties wanted space and honestly wanted to see less of each other- so Harry did his best to fulfill that demand.

He wasn't sure if it was possible to cast space expansion charms of stretches of ocean, but he did definitely know how to cast them in enclosed spaces- like the sort you might have in a cave. And Harry had the tools to make caves.

So he went under the castle and dug out caverns- some flooded for Mermish use, while others might be good for the vampires, or to serve as a place for the werewolves to transform in relative peace (they were still working on mass producing wolfsbane). Some tunnels too- including one that would allow Agathe to get out into the ocean without bothering the Mermen (or them bothering her) and would, more generally, serve as a potential escape route if things went bad.

Another related issue that came up was the matter of sunlight and fresh air more generally. Harry was, of course, dreadfully afraid for the vampires, worried that any moment they could be cooked. However, now that the castle was filled with more people (and livestock, not to mention the dragon eggs) Harry had to concede that sunlight would probably be nice. Growing up inside a castle without a spot of sun was probably bad for children, after all…

So some of the upper floors were filled with actual windows, fancy courtyards, and delicate arches- all of it was quite a bit above the ground because the first few floors were still dark… but it was a little more cheerful up there, so a lot of the non vampires moved. Thankfully, the one thing they weren't lacking for so far was rooms.

It wasn't like the vampires couldn't enjoy it either- during the night they were just as capable as wandering the courtyards as anyone else, if not more so. They enjoyed the night air, and there was a certain unearthly beauty about them in the pale moonlight. Still, Harry felt a little bad about (inadvertently) keeping them cooped up in the castle, so he figured that he could take some more time reintroducing them to the world, as he initially intended to do- especially the more interesting modern parts.

So Harry took trips to London with the vampires, just to get them a little more used to the whole modern world thing. Of course, the vampires had their own personal favorites: Mary tended towards libraries and bookstores for obvious reasons, while other vampires dragged him around to movies (which Harry had to explain) or stageplays (the vampires had to translate for Harry whenever they watched Shakespeare). Margaret, though? She was a bit of a history buff.

Harry was certain that she would be dragging him to Sealed Knot reenactments if she could survive in the daylight…. This led to some minor problems, because as it turned out, museums didn't tend to stay open late enough for Margaret's taste either. So Harry did something that was admittedly pretty stupid.

Still, Harry thought breaking and entering was a strong word. They weren't stealing anything (except a few pamphlets) they were just accommodating Margaret's vampiric needs- and using a bit of magic to temporarily fry the cameras as cover. It also helped that it being after hours meant no school children were exposed to Margaret's verbose rants on the subject of Oliver Cromwell, and her shockingly broad knowledge of period appropriate expletives.

Eventually, after a bit of pleading on Margaret's part, Harry gave in and went on what was one of their most stupid- or at least ill advised- trips yet. The Tower of London didn't stay open in the evenings, but Margaret wanted to see it anyways.

In an excess of caution, Harry decided to bring the invisibility cloak, just in case things got dicey, and while that was admittedly a super bad look, he didn't plan on stealing anything, he promised.

There were a number of interesting things at the tower- of course, there were guards (which Harry tried to avoid or Confound), but there were stranger things, like the ravens. Harry did have to wander if some loony magician had actually set a curse with the extremely specific conditions of "less than six ravens at the tower" in order to activate, or if the idea of the kingdom falling if less than six ravens were on the grounds was just a weird muggle tradition. (If good fortune was really only dependent on having six ravens, then maybe Harry should look into hiring a Ravenmaster…)

The armoury was neat, and Harry had to admit walking the battlements would be good inspiration for his own castle… It was also, as many storied castles seemed to be, haunted. Harry would admit he got a little misty eyed when he saw two ghosts playing in the halls, who scarcely looked older than twelve and nine… Poor Edward and Richard.

The Crown Jewels were impressive, even considering the recent motherlode that Harry found off the coast of Colombia. He was pleasantly surprised to see some magical security around the pieces as well; imagining some lowlife like Mundungus Fletcher getting his hands on them because of lacking magical security sent a chill down Harry's spine.

Harry was examining the Sword of Mercy, Curtana, when Margaret called out to him. "Good Master, thou need to see this."

Harry walked over to see her pointing at what Harry initially assumed was just a couple of cracks in the wall. And if either crack was alone, it might have been, but together they suggested the shape of a snake, slithering up the stones…

"Why don't you give it a try, Margaret? Say open." It would be some good practice in the field for her Parseltongue skills.

She nodded, and after a moment or two of attempting to recall her Parseltongue lessons, she said. "Open."

The cracks began to widen and spread, getting longer and longer until they stretched from the floor of the room to several inches above their heads; before the the two sides split, the crack widening until a person could just barely slip through.

Harry grinned, more than a little proud of his teaching skills, and one of his proteges. "Awesome, Margaret." She flushed prettily, and Harry began to wiggle his way inside the crack- there was no way he would miss out on a piece of magical history like this.

XVI. Treasure

On a basic level, a villain needs funds, even if their message is compelling enough to get followers to work without pay. For bribery, for supplies… few things can rival magic, but when it comes to manifesting your will upon the world (and other people) money is definitely up there.

Some treasures have value that's more than magical, of course. They could be sold to raise funds, but that should be saved for a last resort- powerful enchantments or simple prestige are a value all their own.

Harry would admit he was more than a little excited by the mysterious Parseltongue tunnel he found inside the Tower of London. This was the sort of stuff that magical adventure stories were made of.

It seemed as if the tunnel was cut from the bricks that composed the Tower of London, but as they went further down the bricks were superseded by stone that had been clumsily blasted away. It reminded him of less than fond memories of the Chamber, but Harry was pretty sure he would have heard of petrifications happening around the Tower of London, so he figured those were just characteristics of creepy magical dungeons more generally.

Eventually they reached a door- nothing too remarkable about it other than the lock, which had a stylized snake instead of a keyhole, and the note nailed to it on aged, yellowy paper. Harry squinted at it for a bit as Margaret read from behind him.

Whichever mage hath found this chamber, I hope thou are a Royalist, or if not, I hope thou can still respect these treasures for their value as pieces of history.

If Fate is kind, then perhaps these can be restored to their proper owners- whether they be rightful Kings of England, Ireland, and Scotland, or as exiles over the sea. If the hand of Providence has struck down the Stuarts and brought an end to their line… I plead of thou to take the treasures within and guard them well, or to dispense them to a ruler who is a font of justice and a provider of good laws.

If nothing else, do not waste them. The thought of these items being rescued from certain destruction, only to meet their ends despite my efforts… it is bitter as gall. I pray my fakes were enough…

No way. No way could Harry possibly be this stupidly lucky. Margaret was breathless behind him, and with a bit of a shaking in his voice Harry whispered "Open." to the snake on the lock, which did a complex sort of wiggling motion before the door creaked open.

Harry pushed the aging wood of the door to the side, revealing the room… and it definitely didn't disappoint.

After King Charles I was relieved of his neck privileges, England was supposed to be a republic- mysteriously, the only rulers of the English Commonwealth were Oliver Cromwell and his son, but it was completely non-dynastic succession bro I promise- and that meant getting rid of all those icky, superstitious royal jewels, which were now a symbol of the overthrown and definitely destroyed royal regime.

That wasn't to say the old monarchs didn't sell their jewels or use them as collateral for their loans, but Cromwell and the Rump Parliament needed money too, and there were all these useless crowns sitting around… The gems and pearls were removed and the gold struck into coins.

Or at least, that was what the muggle historians remembered. Considering the crowns, scepters, and other articles hidden away in the room… it seemed as if these were the genuine articles, saved by some enterprising Parseltongue.

"Should we… give them back?" Harry questioned, looking at a coronet decorated in gold. "It would be hard to explain this to the muggles, wouldn't it…?"

Margaret was transfixed upon the crown of Edward the Confessor. "The jewels were willed to the Stuarts, yes? And if memory serves… there are no Stuarts anymore."

Harry got the distinct impression that Margaret wanted to keep the crown jewels, and Harry was inclined to agree with her. They had sat in a hole in the ground for three centuries and a decent part of the fourth. They weren't being missed.

He spotted something familiar out of the corner of his eye- the silvery, almost liquid appearance of an invisibility cloak. Upon that cloak sat a plain looking crown of gold and a sword in its sheath, one with a hilt as white as bone.

Grinning, Harry picked up the sword and carefully drew it- only for the blade to burst into flame, the fire so hot that Harry dropped the sword out of shock.

"Good Master!"

Harry's smile grew even wider. Three out of thirteen of the treasures of Britain- just like that. At the very least, two invisibility cloaks meant that he and Margaret wouldn't have to squeeze together under a single cloak like they did on the way in...

Of course, Harry wasn't going to sell the crown jewels- they deserved to be protected, and Harry figured that the castle would be as good a place as any. Some part of him wondered if the Queen knew about the magical world- the Prime Minister did, at least Harry thought- and admittedly Harry kind of didn't want to give the stuff back to its technical rightful owner. It was supposed to be destroyed… so why couldn't Harry just keep it?

Plus, if Harry started feeling bad about this, he might have to start feeling bad about liberating all that treasure from the San Jose, and considering that he had spend portions of it… yikes. Recouping that would probably mean visiting the goblins, and he did not like that idea at all.

Harry supposed that in the future he might try to target slightly more… deserving stashes of treasure, ones hidden away by people he wouldn't feel bad about robbing, even posthumously? Of course, that was making the major assumption that he would chance upon more than one hidden cache of treasure. What were the chances of that?

Well, actually, considering his current run of luck, it was possible. Well, if destiny was going to lead him to fortune he certainly hoped it didn't lead him to a haunted burial ground or something.

Maybe he should try to install an underground vault for holding things of this nature? Did dragons actually like that sort of thing, or was it a myth?

Harry was wandering about the lower, more subterranean levels of the castle when he heard the sound of conversation- not exactly unusual, even if the lower parts were a little less popular now. Normally, Harry might have left well enough alone, but it sounded like an argument, and Harry figured that he was the one who was supposed to keep the peace around here...

As he approached, Harry saw a few wisps of smoke. Wonderful. He also caught the tail end of the argument. "-you call that a wee problem?"

It seemed to be one of the werewolves and that Scottish accented vampire- Harry thought her name might have been Bridget?- were dealing with… well, Harry wasn't exactly sure what it was, considering the fact that it seemed to have splattered across the table.

"How's it going?"

"Harry, sir!" The vampire squeaked. "It's ah, well… we were hoping it would be a surprise?"

Harry blinked. "You think you've got a handle on it?"

"Wait, what? You're not going to ask what we're up to?"

"Is it bad enough that I need to know?"

"I, uh, hope not?"

"Then go ahead." Harry said. "I mean, I'm not even really your boss. Do what you want."

The werewolf and vampire then got to cleaning the mess that they had made- Harry couldn't help but notice all the broken equipment- crystal vials, burners, delicate scales… Hell, Harry thought some of the stuff might have been mooched from the potions room. Bridget got to work using the repair charm on the pieces, and Harry spoke up again.

"You do realize you could just buy new equipment, right?"

"Really?"

"I would remind you that you have money." Harry said- the vampires still had their non-insignificant portions of the old bastard's fortune, they just… decided to stick with Harry instead of living their own lives with the cash. "I'd prefer to go with you if you're going shopping, but if it's something private…"

So Harry let Bridget hitch an apparition ride (shockingly, they didn't have licenses, not that Harry really gave a hoot when it came to ministerial law) so she could go shopping- she went to places he expected, like the apothecary and the cauldron sellers, along with Flourish and Blott's… the jig was kind of up when Bridget made a stop at a place that sold reagents, but Harry decided to indulge her and pretend he didn't know that she was dabbling in alchemy. Good for her, getting some sort of hobby.

Thankfully, Diagon Alley was generally safe now, to the point where Harry felt reasonably confident in giving her a bit of distance. No cars to run her over, thankfully. Instead, he decided to have a chat with George.

"How's life, Harry?"

"Good. Found some interesting stuff for the island recently."

"Interesting stuff? Do tell, Mr. Potter."

"I shouldn't say… it might get me into a touch of trouble with the Muggle government. They'd want it back, after all."

George's eyes widened. "What did you do this time, Harry?"

"George, if I start telling you all of my secrets, how could I possibly bill myself as a man of mystery? My reputation would be ruined!"

"Fair enough… but while we're on the subject…" he pulled out a spray bottle. "Harry Potter themed cologne? All the people think you're a bit of a lady killer, you know."

Harry would admit that royalties sounded nice. "What is it, exactly?"

"Well, I was thinking it would be a bit of a mild love potion…"

Harry froze. "No."

"What?"

"George, can you do me a favor and stop selling love potions? Hell, I'm a shareholder, or something like that, right? Please, stop selling those potions."

"Alright…" George decided to change the subject. "So, have you come up with a name yet?"

"A name?"

"For your island, of course."

"Doggerland, maybe? I mean, that's the name of the land that used to be there, before, you know."

"And the castle?"

"I mean, it's not like there are many other castles on the Dogger Bank to get it mixed up with, George."

Before they could continue talking, Bridget rushed from the shop she was inside, coughing and nearly retching. "Dammit, was somebody selling garlic?" Harry groaned. "See you later, George! Come by for dinner, maybe?"

"Harryland? Harrisland? Think about it, Harry!" George shouted.

Unfortunately for Harry Potter, there was a specific sort of busybody who considered listening in on conversations held by celebrities to be quite a worthwhile use of their time. After having to fall back on the reliable, if slightly less sensational stories of Harry Potter canoodling with vampires, the Prophet leapt on something as juicy as what George and Harry talked about.

POTTER'S ISLAND?

Recent rumors have surfaced that Harry Potter- dragon slayer, noted pursuer of vampires, and werewolf sympathizer- has come into a possession of his private island, somewhere around the Dogger Bank. This step away from Wizarding Britain- and more literally, Britain itself- does not seem completely unexpected, considering his recent disagreements with the wizarding government on the matter of werewolf rights. What he does on this island- and the sorts of guests and companions he keeps- are completely unknown, although the Prophet is on the case, and has a reward for anyone willing to come forward with information.

One potential guest on said island is a woman by the name of Agathe- her husband, Ross, claims that Potter came by, shortly after his slaying of the Hebridean dragons, and swept the woman off her feet, and fled with her in the night. Lock up your daughters, wizarding Britain!