10

XIX. Majesty

Majesty is a broad trait, and is in some ways a mix of many of the subjects previously discussed. Typically, sovereignty is something of a prerequisite- stateliness does sort of require a state- and majesty sweeps up many other factors: appearance, feats, good judgement, staff who are loyal, etc. The court, perhaps even the country, should rotate around you like planets in orbit, transfixed on your power, your influence, your majesty radiating from you like sunrays.

There was an interesting little quirk about the city of Cusco, or at least the portion of the city that was around when the Inca built it. It was shaped like a Puma- not exactly a super accurate diagram, but workable- with the head being a temple complex/citadel at the top of a nearby rise.

Harry fulfilled his tourist duties and marveled at the place, called Sacsayhuamán, finding the dry stone walls particularly interesting. How precisely the stones were cut, the effort put into every terrace and wall… the stones were so tightly packed and precisely laid that Harry was sure he couldn't slide a knife between them.

Finding out the Spanish had used large parts of the complex for building stones was… not surprising, but typically disappointing. The only stones that remained were those that were too inconvenient to remove- the rest would be found in the city below.

Speaking of, Harry did eventually find the magical quarter of the city, which was roughly where the heart of the puma would be- and it definitely didn't disappoint, given that it was once the throbbing magical heart of an empire. The stonework alone was incredible- with magic on your side, silly concerns about how long it would take masons to make a pattern were swept aside. Beautifully fitted stones made starbursts and suns which graced the sides of the ancient looking buildings- but all of them paled in comparison to a surviving temple complex.

He figured the Spanish probably would have been a little miffed to know that they missed a few of the Inca temples, but Harry definitely wasn't complaining. There were some major difficulties when it came to translation, but eventually Harry got to go inside the temple.

The main room was unbelievable, covered in incredible amounts of gilding and silver plate- the few candles and lanterns in the place were reflected many times over by the precious metals, giving the entire place a sort of warmth. A great sun pattern- in gold, surprise surprise- stared down at Harry from the far wall, and the floor was decorated in brilliant silver against a background of pitch black, giving Harry the impression that he was walking across the Milky Way.

Harry derived some small amount of satisfaction at this gold just being here- every ounce was one that Pizarro would have never gotten his grimy hands on, after all- in addition to just how remarkable it all looked. He wasn't quite sure if he would go for the whole 'cover everything in silver and gold plates' look in his castle, it probably wouldn't work as well.

Another curiosity was the native plants they grew, both magical and not. There were a number of interesting medicinal plants he decided to get- he even decided to be a little bold and try coca in leaf form. Apparently the stuff was quite popular, as a medicine to fight altitude sickness (not that Harry needed medicine for that anymore) and other diseases, it was brewed into teas, or even just consumed straight up by being chewed. Hell, Harry heard that it was in Coca-Cola, the soda, for a while before… well, before the plant had the whole cocaine stigma attached to it.

Harry decided to exercise judgement and not consume the magical varieties of coca, which were made more potent and fruitful through the application of magic. There was being daring, and then there was trying extreme magical drugs. (Well technically speaking, didn't he consume some sort of magical drug that permanently cured his altitude sickness? Would potions technically count as magical drugs?) Regardless of any apparent hypocrisy, Harry exercised his judgement and decided not to try magical cocaine.

Maybe he'd give some coca to one of those mine spirits, if they ever met again. Harry heard they liked it.

After that particular misadventure and a quick stop at Nazca to look at the lines- no snakes, unfortunately, or perhaps quite fortunately for the Statute of Secrecy- Harry decided to return to the boat (and therefore, through magic, his castle) so he could check on home. He didn't really think that anything major had happened in his absence, but it wasn't like Harry needed a reason to check in on his godson. Unfortunately, he ran into a bit of a problem on the way to the part of the castle where Andromeda and Teddy resided… well, Hermione would probably object pretty strongly to being called a problem, actually.

"Is what the Prophet said true, Harry?" She sighed at the look Harry gave her. "Yes, you don't read it- but they said you're starting a country, and that's a little far fetched, even for them."

"I'm not starting a country- I've already started a country."

"Harry!"

"I'm not sure what to tell you- it just happened! I was arguing with Kingsley, and boom- I made myself a country."

"Arguing with Kingsley about…" She took one look at Harry's face and nodded. "Yes, stupid question. Was the prince thing real, though?"

Harry inhaled. "Well, I was really tired when the paperwork came in, and I left it to Margaret for her to fill out…" Disappointment was evident on Hermione's face. "And then I just figured she filled it properly, so I sent it out without really looking over it…"

"And she made you a prince?"

"She has a… more than passing interest in the monarchy," Harry said. "Technically, I go by 'Serene Highness' now."

Before Hermione could respond to that, he heard a cry of "Good master!" and turned to see Margaret approaching him, one of the other vampires- a non magical one carrying a camera- in tow.

"What's the matter?"

"I wondered if thou would wish to have some pictures taken, perhaps with a crown?" She looked excited at the prospect- Hermione did not.

"Harry, where did you get a crown?"

"Well, you see, we were visiting the Tower of London…" Hermione grew concerningly red.

After a tongue lashing from Hermione, Harry did indulge Margaret with those pictures; of course, Harry only conceded once he had extracted a promise that they wouldn't leave the island. He did not need any pictures of himself wearing what was quite possibly King Arthur's crown floating around (it was the crown that sat atop Arthur's own mantle, it was not a hard conclusion to reach).

Once Hermione had calmed down a little, she was helpful in some of the minor business of preparing things. Who would have guessed starting your own country came with paperwork? The ICW apparently wanted plans in case a muggle discovered magic on his territory- fairly simple, just use memory charms if they somehow managed to work through some of the strongest repelling wards on the planet- along with a code of law and other such nonsense. Other than an ironclad rule about equality under the law for all, Harry didn't really care much.

Thankfully, most people on the island weren't spooked by the whole 'surprise, you're now in a new country' thing. Sure, the Veela wrote some letters home to make sure everything was still cool with the French Ministry… but the werewolves and vampires were mostly content with their lots.

Andromeda had started to accept, or at least tolerate, the craziness that Harry was just mired in near constantly. Her biggest concern was whether or not Teddy would be going to Hogwarts or not- which wasn't even that much of a concern, considering he could just be homeschooled. It wasn't like they were lacking in learning materials…

On the subject of learning, Harry was basically at the point where he was ready to try sharing his book on Parseltongue. It has proved a remarkable success, at least among the vampires and those werewolves and Veela who were willing to learn. He had no doubt the press would find some way to spin it… but it was a useful skill, and Harry would do his best to spread it. Maybe the Americans and other non-British English speakers would be more open to learning it?

He figured he'd go through it a few more times to proofread it and all that, maybe send it out around Christmas? Harry Potter's Guide to Parseltongue- the perfect gift for the witch in your life! ("Hey baby, do you want to try talking to my snake?") Harry wasn't quite tacky enough to give out signed copies of his book as Christmas gifts though. He wasn't Lockhart.

Harry had decided to go on a little trip at home before crossing the Pacific. There were 'only' ten of the Treasures of Britain left, and Harry wanted to give a bit more searching a try, in addition to letting the Cheval Mallet (who grudgingly went by Mallet now, considering that Cheval literally just meant horse) stretch its legs a little. It seemed a little upset that Harry had brought the king snake along, but after quite a few reassurances that it wasn't poisonous Mallet allowed it.

For this particular trip Harry was poking around southern Wales, Bristol, and Somerset- the area where he thought Avalon might have been. It seemed as good a place to look as any, even if he wasn't entirely sure if the Isle of Apple Trees was real or fiction, or if it was even possible to find anymore.

So he rode around Britain, trying to research magic and folktales without walking into an actual magical town, because then the Ministry would be bitching at him again and he did not want that. Admittedly, that threw a bit of a wrench into his searching plans, but it wasn't like wandering the countryside was the worst way to spend his time. Maybe if he was lucky he'd find some good gifts? It was almost that time of year after all...

It was while on that mostly directionless search that his king snake- still unnamed- froze while sniffing at the air. "What's the matter?" Harry hissed gently, talking into the sleeve where the snake hid, soaking in Harry's warmth.

"It's… an odd smell. Blood, but... Sick, or rotten."

Harry's curiosity was sort of piqued- what if somebody needed help?- and he followed the snake's directions until he eventually stood in front of what he thought was a ward structure of some kind. He had gotten fairly good at spotting those.

His attention was really drawn to the person behind the ward. She was sort of cute, but more pressingly, Harry thought she seemed familiar. From Hogwarts, almost certainly, but where? She seemed a bit younger than him…

"Greengrass?" The younger one, Harry thought, although he would admit he didn't know Daphne very well either.

Astoria was sitting near the edge of the wards and moping- maybe not the most proper thing for a pureblood lady to be doing with her spare time, but she really didn't care that much. Her proper pureblood marriage to Draco Malfoy has crashed and burned after… well, after Voldemort dragged down a lot of people with him. Draco was probably off somewhere having a crisis of ego.

Her sour mood wasn't helped by the looming knowledge of her… condition. Every setback was a thousand times more grating when she knew she had a quickly ticking clock in the form of her blood curse. She reserved the right to spend some of that time moping about though.

There wasn't any real particular reason for sitting at the edge of the wards other than privacy, and perhaps the vain hope she'd see something interesting. A muggle wouldn't stumble anywhere near the place… but she did kind of want to see one. Sometimes she wondered if she would have been better off if she was a muggle, if she didn't have some ancestor that got cursed…

Her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of something coming through the brush, something big. Nothing that should get through the wards, obviously… but she palmed her wand anyways.

What she was not expecting was Harry Potter, riding up to the edge of the wards on one of the most beautiful horses she had ever seen. He looked up at her, and after quite a few moments of thinking- Astoria wasn't that forgettable, was she?- he spoke. "Greengrass?"

"Astoria Greengrass. Not Daphne."

"Well of course not," Harry chuckled, and for a few moments he held his sleeve up his mouth. What was he…? "You wouldn't happen to be suffering from some sort of blood condition, would you?"

Astoria froze. "How did you…"

Harry held up his sleeve, and after a few moments the head of a snake poked out, sniffing at the air exaggeratedly.

"Wait, was the Parseltongue thing true?" Sure, she had heard about it, read the papers…

As an answer, Harry whispered (hisspered?) to the snake up his sleeve, which slithered out and looped around his hand, weaving between fingers, before slipping back down into Potter's sleeve. After a second, Harry's eyes widened. "Actually, if you're interested…"

He pulled something out and tossed it at her. It landed a few inches short of the ward, and Astoria picked it up. It was a pretty sort of emerald color, darker than Potter's eyes, and the title was in shimmering silver: The Magician's Guide to Parseltongue

Astoria was sitting there, just trying to process that title as Harry continued. "It's not quite ready for publishing yet, but that's the first print. Maybe you could tell me if it's any good? Write a letter?"

For some idiotic reason, she said the very first thing that came to her mind. "Can I get an autograph?"

Harry burst out laughing. "Sure thing, just toss it back." She did, Potter pulled out a muggle pen and quickly signed his name before throwing the book at her. "And… if you'd like, I might be able to help with that blood problem of yours."

"Lots of doctors have tried, and lots have failed."

"I'm no normal doctor, Ms. Greengrass." That was… definitely true.

"And what do you get out of it?"

"Ideally, I get to sleep at night knowing I did the best I could to save the life of a young woman." Harry shrugged. "I'm not going to make you pay, if that's what you're asking."

She really, really didn't want to get her hopes up, but she looked down at the book in her hands again. A guide to speaking Parseltongue… maybe Potter was just crazy enough to do something.

"I suppose I'll write to you, then…" Potter smiled at her response and guided the horse away into the woods.

What in Merlin's name was he doing riding a horse through Somerset anyways? Didn't he have a country to run, or something?

Oh, Mum and Dad were going to go wild...

XX. A Message

One of the most important things a villain needs is a message, something to compel his followers and attract new ones. Unfortunately, sheer realpolitik "I want to accrue power for accruing power's sake" doesn't really drive people to die for your cause, even if it is your real (obviously unstated) goal.

You can even genuinely believe in it, if you like, but keep in mind that certain messages only appeal to certain people. Anti-muggle policies in all forms should be approached with caution, as they cripple your chances of getting new, muggleborn blood to fill your ranks. Anti werewolf messaging, while very good at preying on people's fears, denies you some incredible shock troops. Attempting to please everyone or recruit everyone… well, being that milquetoast may not evoke anyone's passions at all. And that is worse than excluding some.

That particular trip proved to be something of a bust, other than starting a correspondence with one Astoria Greengrass. She was, perhaps quite understandably, slow to open up, but she did give several critiques of his book, along with pieces of information about her curse. Mary wasn't turning up anything in her research- a bad sign- but Harry was already fiddling with Parselmagic related to healing, just in case. It seemed like they might have to wait until summer to really try any treatments, even though Harry had met Astoria at the very beginning of Christmas break.

As Christmas crept closer, so did the solstice… and Harry did not particularly look forward to the meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards that would take place then. He basically had to show up and go through the motions of being properly accepted and sworn in and a bunch of other legislative nonsense before he could give the damned chair to Margaret or one of the other vampires.

Unfortunately, that pushed back one of his plans- he was going to attempt to become a Nagual. He had no idea if it would work, if it might somehow destroy his ability to become an Animagus, or if it was just a different version of the same ritual with a particular bias towards pumas and jaguars. Whatever the case, Harry didn't want to be working off the hangover of rare magical plants while also suffering through the ICW meeting… he also assumed that showing up as a puma would be a bit much.

Acquiring all the various plants was something of a misadventure, including several extremely close calls with the Mexican authorities. Both magical and non-magical, actually- Harry was almost flattered that the Mexican Magical Government thought he was that big of a deal… Thankfully, they didn't appear to have anyone with a Mad-Eye Moody like ability to see Harry under his cloak. There were several close calls with Homenum revelio and its equivalents, but if things got too hot with the muggles Harry could just slip under the cloak.

He also retrieved several items that were decidedly not illegal- souvenirs, to serve as gifts. Christmas, and all that. In addition, he'd manage to grab some more while he was out for the ICW meeting- he'd also get to put his French to the test in the French-speaking cantons of Switzerland, where the meeting was to take place… that made the idea at least somewhat tolerable.

Technically speaking, Harry arrived very, very early to the meeting of the ICW- this wasn't out of any sense of duty, but more about making absolutely one hundred percent sure that not so much as a beam of sunlight would land on his vampires. As it turned out, the ICW was somewhat used to accommodating vampires thanks to the Romanians. Margaret was a little excited to meet, or at least see, other vampires. He had managed to argue Margaret down from sable and ermine, not that dress robes were a tremendous improvement over that, giving him yet another reason to dislike this whole trip.

The ICW complex was… eh. He was given a tour, but other than a number of old paintings of previous Mugwumps and several historical artifacts which genuinely interested him, there wasn't much else other than places for the desk jockeys and the conference room itself. The latter didn't disappoint, thankfully, proving to be a splendid, high roofed room (with no glass, thankfully) filled with hundreds of chairs, great banners over them. Some of the flags he recognized, or were at least familiar: the ministry's symbol, relatively unchanged versions of muggle flags… but a lot were surprises, not even counting those that chose not to use flags.

Tremendous swaths of the room were devoted to governments Harry had never really considered magical power players, but that made sense. What had to be dozens of Native American magical governments (he saw them exchanging a number of sour looks with the MACUSA candidates), with no shortage of candidates from Africa either… It also seemed as if a few of the European ministries had never really caught onto that whole national unification craze of the 19th century… it was some comfort to know that Harry wasn't the only monarch in the room though.

What followed was a recap of the last meeting, a few excruciatingly slow votes, and finally, Harry's chance to introduce himself and the nation of Doggerland. Of course, there was even more dilly-dallying before Harry could speak- 'Doggerland is an island on the Dogger Banks ruled by Harry Potter, defeater of Voldemort, etc. etc. etc.'

Harry got to stretch his legs a little when he stood and conjured his own flag behind him- it was considered something of a right of passage, and admittedly made the process kind of cool- the design Harry went for was simple: a black circle upon a sea green background. It looked a touch like his island/castle, when viewed from above, and a bit like Harry's iris- not too complex, either. A few of his… citizens, Merlin did that feel weird to think about, had suggested a lightning bolt, like his scar, but Harry refrained. Other than the bad memories Harry associated with the damned thing, Harry wanted the flag to represent Doggerland more generally, considering one day he would probably be passing on governorship to someone without said scar. He also knew enough muggle history to know covering his flag in lightning bolts was not a good look.

There was one part of the entire process he was looking forward to: as a new member, he would be allowed a brief period of time to make an address to the ICW. This was typically to sort of introduce the new nation, any particular issues or difficulties it faced and might need help addressing, that sort of thing… notably, it wasn't supposed to be interrupted. Harry grinned.

POTTER AT THE ICW

[The picture shows Harry in the middle of an impassioned speech of some sort in front of the ICW, his own flag towering behind him. The framing of the photo and the shadows give the distinct impression of a great green eye behind Potter, one that glowers at the reader.]

Considering his recent ascension to the throne of the Principality of Doggerland, it was only a matter of time before he appeared before the International Confederation of Wizards, several of his vampire companions in tow.

On the subject, Potter gave an impassioned speech in front of the representatives, passionately (and somewhat long-windedly) arguing for complete equal rights for Vampires, Werewolves, Mermen, and other magical creatures that had long been subject to "unfair and ridiculous stigma," in his own words.

He reportedly received a standing ovation from the Romanian delegation. This reporter will now leave you with a number of choice excerpts from the speech- you can contact the ICW if you wish for a full transcript.

"If the Death Eaters have taught me anything, humanity is in no way an indicator of how moral a person is..."

They managed to find a decently quiet island in the Pacific for Harry to attempt his Nagual transformation. Harry insisted on doing it on his own, just because he wasn't entirely sure how he would act in whatever form he got, so he wanted some isolation. Not too much, in case he needed to be bailed out, but enough that he wouldn't maul anyone.

It was the night before Christmas Eve- that was to say the twenty third- and Harry was admittedly a little anxious. The vampires had measured out the proper ratios for everything, mixed them properly, and Harry had double checked, but he still knew magic wasn't something to be screwed around with. If it went wrong, at the very least, there was a day to try to fix things before his friends showed up at the island for Christmas Dinner.

So he took the first potion- a pale green one- and chugged. Surprisingly, it didn't taste too bad, even if the trees started to look like they were melting.

Hermione was, unsurprisingly, one of the first of Harry's friends to arrive for their little Christmas celebration, in no small part thanks to her extreme interest in the number of artifacts and ancient books Harry had gotten his hands on. Oddly, when Hermione arrived, Harry wasn't there to greet her immediately.

The first face she recognized was that vampire woman who stuck so close to Harry's side, Margaret, and she wasn't alone. It was only Margaret's complete and total calm that kept Hermione from drawing her wand when faced with the honest to goodness puma that sauntered alongside her. Any remaining fear vanished when the puma looked up at her with those vivid green eyes.

"Harry?" The big cat nodded, and brushed by her leg in a way that might have been meant to simulate a greeting. "What happened to you…?"

"The good master… underestimated the effects of a ritual he partook in." Seeing Hermione's worried look, she continued. "Not permanent… just not quite as easy to reverse as an Animagus transformation."

Puma-Harry very much tried to keep up the look of a dignified predator, but the puma brain was clearly messing with him a little, considering how he sometimes acted more like an oversized housecat. He honestly purred when Margaret petted him, and some part of Hermione wondered if that reaction would translate over to human form. Maybe that question would have to go unanswered… Hermione definitely didn't feel like trying to pet Harry or McGonagall, in either form. She'd leave Harry's testing up to the vampires and Veela, thank you very much.

George in particular found Harry's new form hilarious- even if he had to dodge a few playful swipes from Harry when he tried to go in for a pat. Hermione wasn't surprised to see that Puma-Harry preferred the touch of pretty women, even if it was a touch disappointing. Still, seeing baby Teddy ride around on the back of Puma-Harry was pretty hilarious, even if Andromeda was fretting for the whole of the trip.

Then it was time for gifts- several obvious jokes about catnip and litter boxes were made- and Hermione had to admit that Harry's didn't disappoint. She received a collected translation of some of the more interesting Maya and Aztec texts Harry had found, Ron had received a state of the art racing broom, Neville got a number of exotic American plants… George also got some American plants, which concerned Hermione greatly. There were also a number of little curios and sundries, both for them and the citizens of Harry's own guests.

Harry received a number of things by owl for Christmas: some people just sent him gifts out of sheer affection or gratitude (whether for defeating Voldemort or his more recent comments on the disadvantaged in wizarding society), while others sent pranks or malicious mail. Those were trashed. Some clever clogs sent him a pamphlet with contraceptive spells- of course, leading to much giggling on George's part.

Of course, there was that old reliable fixture of Harry's christmases: Molly Weasley. Well, this year, Molly fulfilled her sweets quota by sending him a single blood pop. Harry seemed to think it was hilarious, although the sort of odd laughter-like sound he made in puma form was deeply unnerving.. Margaret helpfully informed them that it didn't actually taste that much like blood.

The sweater wasn't half bad though, even if it didn't fit a puma.

Once Harry was back in human form, he prepared to set out across the Pacific, although they wouldn't be going to Japan straight away. Instead, they would be stopping at a number of the islands that dotted the Pacific- Hawaii felt like a bit too much of a tourist destination in Harry's opinion, but he was interested in places like Australia or New Zealand, where he would be able to speak the language.

In particular, Harry was interested in a little place called the Palmyra Atoll. He had heard rumors (or rather, had those rumors translated) that there was a Spanish ship, the Esperanza, that had been filled with no small amount of Peruvian treasure before pirates got to it. Pirates that supposedly buried their spoils on the Palmyra Atoll. Was it true? Who knew. But it sounded fun.

He'd even have something to do along the way: reading letters. Sure, there was the usual hate mail, which was always a special sort of pleasure, but there was a new sort of letter coming in ever since his little speech at the ICW: as best as he could describe it, they were applications. From werewolves mostly, asking for the chance to build a better life for themselves in Doggerland… and how could Harry refuse?

Obviously they'd need to take a few steps to keep some Greyback-esque nutjob from getting in, but otherwise… well, if the rest of the world wouldn't take them, Harry certainly would.