April 9th, 2018. Ravenhead, the Seeing Seat.
Fleur disengaged from the Palantír and rubbed her temples with a grimace. Her mind felt like unbaked pizza dough, soft and stretched thin. It was hard to think, though it was getting easier.
"Five minutes this time." Harry said. "You're getting better."
"By time maybe, but I couldn't discern what I was seeing any better than before." Fleur countered with another grimace. "I think it may be time to concede that you are the only one who can use this thing properly."
"I still think that practice would let you girls use it as well, but I won't push you." Harry shrugged.
Dora, Fleur and Luna had asked to try out the Palantíri three days ago, but they didn't have nearly his aptitude for it. Perhaps it was because he had made them, perhaps it was because he was more skilled at the Mind Arts and Will Manifestation, perhaps because he found it easier to separate himself from the world and simply observe it, perhaps his mind worked differently thanks to his runes or something else. Maybe it was all of the above. Whatever the case, they had far more trouble using the Palantír than he did.
"You've been spending an awful lot of time here the past few days." Fleur commented. "Seen anything interesting?"
"Not as such." Harry answered with a shrug. "I've mostly been organising my feathery spy network. I don't have to go there in person anymore now that I can issue commands via Palantír."
He had crafted another Slave Palantír and placed it in Ukraine, thinking that he might find some more of Voldemort's minions there due to its proximity to Romania. While that hadn't borne any fruit yet, he had at least been able to conscript the local ravens into being his eyes and ears.
"Nymmie tells me that the Taboo pinged again earlier today."
"Yeah, another false alarm." He sighed.
"Harry, you need to hire a chief of security to take care of these things." Fleur said firmly, getting to the point. "I know you don't want to give out any of your secrets, but not only are you spread too thin, you are also not a security expert. If you could delegate the mirror research to Septima and her people, then you can do it with security as well."
Harry huffed unhappily, but didn't refute her points. It was true after all, he was spread a little thin and he was just guessing at what constituted proper security. Hiring someone that actually knew what they were doing would make it far more effective.
But, and there was always a but, the idea of delegating the island's security to someone else didn't sit easy with him. He'd had no qualms about turning over work on the mirrors to Septima and her crew – that was just business and designed to keep him rich so that he didn't have to worry about money for the projects that he actually cared about.
Spellhaven's administration he also delegated where he could and Narcissa was fortunately more than happy to take the reins, but that was another thing that he only cared about peripherally.
Security was something that he had to take seriously however. Unfortunately, delegating it would mean letting someone else access the wards. It would mean revealing the Taboo and the Marauder's Map. It would mean relying on some third party to do a good job and not be a problem themselves.
"I know, it's just...I don't really trust anyone that much outside of you three girls." Harry admitted. He would have gladly turned the task over to Dora, but she had little interest in organising security on top of being the primary trainer for them.
"Then trust Nymmie to pick an appropriate security chief." Fleur said smugly. "She already has someone in mind."
"Of course she does." Harry rolled his eyes. Dora been the first to bring up the notion of hiring a chief of security, but he had resisted the idea at the time. Apparently she'd gone ahead and picked someone out anyway, probably anticipating that he wouldn't be able to keep stalling indefinitely. "Do I know him or her?"
As long as it wasn't Moody.....
Harry had great respect for the battered old Auror's experience and paranoia, but he was Dumbledore's man.
"You might." Fleur replied with a careless shrug. "Jeremiah, or 'Jeremy' as he prefers, Kincaid. Apparently he's a former Auror from North America that was forced into early retirement because he lost an arm fighting some dark wizard."
"Ah, that might work." Harry didn't know the man personally so the name meant nothing to him, but he did know that the wizards of North America were a good deal more security conscious than British ones. It had driven him crazy when he'd been there.
The Americans also had more stringent guidelines than Britain on what kind of people were Auror material and cripples didn't make the cut. Some sequence of events must have led to this Kincaid character ending up on Spellhaven, possibly involving bitterness over his injury and dismissal from the Auror Corps.
If he did decide to employ the man, Harry would have to see about fashioning him a new limb, either of flesh or metal. It never hurt to give the people working for you a reason to be grateful, especially if you were putting them in charge of security. It might not be possible as injuries caused by hostile magic often resisted healing, but that was alright. Harry wasn't a healer anyway.
XXXXX
April 10th. Spellhaven.
Harry found Jeremiah 'Jeremy' Kincaid to be an amusing man. Not because he had a sense of humor, he had demonstrated little of that so far, but because he was so damn stiff. The forty-something wizard had been all 'yes, sir" and standing stiffly at attention ever since he'd entered the cháteau and even sitting down still looked stiff. The American Auror Corps was starting to seem more like a military organisation than a police one.
"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, Mr. Kincaid?" Harry inquired.
"Not at all, sir."
"Alright then. The first thing I'm curious about is what brought you to Spellhaven in the first place."
Kincaid's face briefly twisted into something bitter before he answered. "I used to spend a lot of time at work. Then I got discharged from the corps and found out that my wife had been using that as an opportunity to have an affair. I wasn't in a good place and things got ugly quick. We put each other in the hospital, which wiped out most of my savings now that the government wasn't paying for my medical bills anymore. My bitch wife got custody of our son and put on a teary act in front of the judge about how scared of me she is, so now I only get to see my boy once a month."
"Damn, you have the shittiest luck." Harry shook his head, feeling a mix of incredulity and amusement at the hammering that life had given this guy recently.
Still, that last part could be a problem if someone got it into their head to use the son as leverage. They'd have to see about changing those custody arrangements. A generous application of money paired with a slander campaign against the ex-wife would probably do it.
"Tell me about it." Kincaid muttered. "Anyway, I heard you were recruiting people to fight that Voldiemort character and I had nothing better to do. Figured it was worth a shot to see if you'd take a wizard without his dominant arm."
Word of that had reached America? Sure, they hadn't really tried to keep it secret, but Harry hadn't thought that the scuffle between him and Voldemort would be considered news over there.
Also, Voldiemort. Hah!
"You want to join the Raven Host?" He asked.
Harry may have matured considerably from the eleven-year-old that related everything he encountered to something he'd previously seen in one fictional fantasy setting or another, but he definitely hadn't outgrown his penchant for stealing things from them.
Calling his minions the Raven Host appealed to him on multiple levels even if he'd never played Warhammer Online: Age of Reckoning. It was probably a bit unwise to so blatantly make all these raven connections and thus hint at his Animagus form, but Harry was not completely immune to the lure of vanity and symbolism.
"Yes. sir."
Well, that was potentially a problem. If the man was looking for action then he may not want to work as chief of security.
"Do you know why I asked to see you today?" Harry asked after a few seconds of consideration.
"No, sir. Ms.Tonks wouldn't say."
"I need a chief of security for the island." He said bluntly. "I'm a powerful wizard and I can do all sorts of things that most people can't, but I'm still seventeen and basically guessing what constitutes good security."
"You want me to be the chief of security for Spellhaven?" Kincaid asked, surprised.
Harry nodded. "I'll understand if you'd rather join the Raven Host, but we need someone competent running security around here more than we need another fighter. Regardless of what you choose, I'm also offering to take a look at your arm and seeing if I can't do something about it."
"You think you can do something about my missing arm?" the American wizard sounded both skeptical and hopeful.
"Depends on how you lost it." Harry shrugged.
"Basic cutting curse, although a powerful one."
That would be more trouble than if he'd lost it to a mundane blade, but less than if the loss had been the result of a 'dark' curse. Harry could work with that.
"Alright, I'm pretty sure that I can give you a fully articulate silver prosthetic at least. There's also a chance that I may be able to magically clone you an entirely new arm and attach it to you, but you'd have to willingly part with some blood and skin for that." He warned.
Kincaid looked conflicted, and with good reason. Willingly giving blood to another magic user was a damn stupid thing to do. A skilled enough wizard could protect himself from any spells sent his way through blood taken forcibly or otherwise without the consent of the donor, but if you gave it willingly then there was no defense.
But the former Auror wasn't as paranoid as Moody and the lure of having his arm back eventually proved too much of a temptation. A few days later, he had a new arm and had agreed to take over Spellhaven's security.
Harry was pleased at how painless that was. He'd still have to keep an eye on Kincaid himself just to make sure that he wasn't a spy for someone of course, but all in all he was happy with how that went.
He also asked Fleur's grandmother to point a veela or two in the man's direction. While he hadn't gotten any 'spy' vibes from him, a few months of boinking a veela wouldn't go amiss in securing his loyalty. Plus, there weren't many better ways to forget a bad marriage.
And there was still the willingly given blood..... Harry was not so far gone that he would use it to enslave the man, but he had no problem using it as a base to craft a device that would immediately alert him to even a twinge of dishonesty or hostility from Kincaid.
XXXXX
April 15th, 2018. Ravenhead.
"Please! Don't do this. I don't want to die!" The man sobbed, one of the grunts that had been captured at Malfoy Manor. Harry had never bothered learning his name. Dora might have, but all she'd said about him was that he was a rapist and a murderer, although he could have guessed the former by himself given that his shapeshifting lover had deemed it necessary to castrate the man.
"Silence, dog. You have no purpose but to die by my hand." Harry replied with cold indifference, although his lips trembled from the effort of keeping the grin off his face. He had always wanted to use that line. Jon Irenicus would forever be one of his favorite villains.
The man continued to beg for his life. Above him, a colorless crystal hovered, it's sharp end pointed at his heart.
Harry made a cut on the man's arm, opening the veins and letting the blood flow into the ritual circle. Then he ran out of the room, slamming the thick iron doors shut.
Less than a minute later, the walls shuddered and Harry hung his head in disappointment. Failure.
Going back into the room, he was unsurprised to find that the only thing left of his test subject was a huge bloodstain.....actually, it was more of a paint job. Khorne would be pleased, if he wasn't a magic-hating little bitch.
There was no sign of the crystal and the air was thick with fear and pain and anger, the last echoes of the dead man's life. It would be murder to purge the room enough to make it usable again.
And back to the drawing board on project 'find a way to store magical energy for later use'. Magic simply did not want to exist in a ready-to-use form. It was always either untapped within magi or given purpose in spells, enchanted items and magical creatures. The crystal had been an attempt to circumvent this problem, but that had just turned it into a bomb.
"Need something to purge the magic of human taint and stabilise it in raw form." Harry muttered to himself as he walked back to the room that contained the previously mentioned drawing board.
XXXXX
April 17th, 2018. Ravenhead.
"It can't be this easy." Harry said, staring at the mass of arithmantic equations in disbelief and no small amount of shock.
XXXXX
April 20th, 2018. Ravenhead.
Tonks walked through the stone halls of Ravenhead in search of her man with a sense of deep exasperation.
Harry was always prone to getting caught up in his projects, but he was being especially ridiculous about it lately. This was the third day in a row that he'd needed to be fetched so that he'd go to bed and there was no telling how many times he'd used the Time Turner.
She predictably found him in his study. Unlike the one he had back on Spellhaven, this one was clearly designed for magical research rather than administration. There was no desk, one wall was taken up by a huge blackboard, another by a bookcase and the last led to another room that she knew to be a meticulously organised archive of his various projects.
Harry was currently slouching in one of those lounge chairs that were so iconic for psychiatric offices and staring at the blackboard. He turned towards her when she entered and gave her a tired smile.
"Hey." He greeted.
"Do I even want to know how long your day has been?" She asked.
"Long." He quipped with a shrug. Even that looked tired.
"You know that letting someone else handle the island's security was supposed to give you time to relax, right?" Tonks chided.
"I was relaxing." Harry countered indignantly.
"Sure you were." She countered sarcastically. "Scoot over."
Once he obeyed the order, she wiggled into place behind him so that he was resting against her chest. A quick exertion of will and her breasts inflated to the perfect size and shape to pillow his head. Then she started massaging his temples with a weak healing spell gathered at the tips of her fingers, knowing that he must have worked nearly to the point of migraine. Again. Relaxing her adjustable arse.
Sure enough, he sighed in relief at her touch and relaxed against her.
"You're entirely too good for me." He murmured.
"You're damn right I am." Tonks agreed. "So what has you so distracted that you'd neglect not one, but three girlfriends? That's dangerous, you know."
He gestured at the blackboard, which was covered in arithmantic equations in base seven math, magically animated diagrams and even what looked like mundane chemistry of all things. Weird.
"Alright, what am I looking at?" She asked. "Because I can't make heads or tails of it."
"Have you ever wondered if you could use your metamorph power to stay young forever?" Harry digressed.
The question threw her and she briefly stopped rubbing circles into his temples, restarting only when she felt him frown in displeasure.
"Well....sure I have, but I always figured that old age would catch up to me even if I didn't look it. I mean, it would be kind of crazy if I was born technically immortal, wouldn't it?"
It was true that there were no records of metamorphs dying of old age, but they were so rare and had historically been so coveted that there was nothing strange about that. Tonks had always been glad to have not been born in an earlier age, where she'd likely have ended up as some pervert's property before her age hit double digits.
"There's no reason why it should be impossible." Harry said quietly. "Death by old age is nothing more than some biological component getting worn out and failing, but you can alter your body to such an extent that it seems unlikely for that to ever happen. You can increase and decrease your age, you can switch gender, displace organs, redirect blood vessels, even give yourself non-human features that somehow function on a human body. Most critically, if you're wounded, you can close your wounds as long as there isn't any malicious magic preventing it. I can't think of any reason why you shouldn't be able to keep your body young indefinitely."
"But that's insane." Tonks protested, the thought that she'd been born essentially immortal simply too much to wrap her head around right now.
"Is it really? Wizards and witches have easily double the lifespan of normal humans simply due to our subconscious desires delaying old age, how many years would a body as malleable as yours add?"
"Is that what you've been doing here all this time? Thinking about how to make Luna a metamorphmagus again?" She asked, changing the subject rather than dealing with her potentially unlimited lifespan.
Harry had long been fascinated by her ability, but had been unable to replicate it. He could self-transfigure like a master, but not in the same way that she did. He was still convinced that he could have done it if not for the runes he'd carved into himself. According to him, they created 'hard chunks of magic' in what was otherwise 'ordinary meat'.
Tonks was still doubtful about his claims that he'd be able to simply create a metamorph talent out of nothing, but was unwilling to say it out loud for fear of being proven wrong. Harry had achieved just a bit too much in his short life for her to be certain that he'd actually fail at it. As things stood, he'd merely decided that even if he and Fleur couldn't do it on account of their magic-infused bodies, nothing was stopping Luna from doing it.
"Not at all." Harry replied. Why the hell did he sound so amused? "I was thinking about how to stockpile magical energy and immortality just sort of came up. I figured that your little talent was as good a segue into the topic as any."
"Just sort of came up?" She repeated flatly. "How does immortality 'just sort of come up'?"
"It's a bit of a funny story really." Harry began explaining, still obviously amused. "I was doing some research on the creation of a catalyst that would allow me to distill and concentrate untapped magic into a stable, but still reactive, form. One thing led to another and I accidentally figured out how to create a Philosopher's Stone."
In her surprise, Tonks inadvertently pressed her fingers into the sides of Harry's skull with a lot more force than necessary.
"Wha....?" She questioned eloquently, ignoring the noise of protest he made at the rought treatment.
The pinnacle of alchemy, that had been reached only once in history as far as anyone could reliably say, and now her overachieving boyfriend of seventeen claimed that he could do it.
Tonks knew that Harry was smart and had both an intuition and passion for learning magic that far outstripped his sense of caution, restraint or even morals.....perhaps especially his morals, but this was just too much. Renowned alchemists had spent their entire lives trying to recreate Nicholas Flamel's success with nothing to show for it, yet Harry had it figured out it in days? And by accident?
She could only sigh and slump into the lounge chair, in restrospect not even that surprised. Alchemy was the 'science' of magic after all, a field of magical study that went wider and deeper than things like Transfiguration or Potions. It was always going to be something that Harry would dive into whole-heartedly.
"What the hell are we going to do with you?" Tonks asked in resignation.
"Roleplay as Lady Death for me?" He suggested and she could feel him grinning.
"Who is Lady Death and why would I roleplay her?" She asked pointedly, although not necessarily against the idea. Harry did have some good suggestions for roleplay in the bedroom after all.
"Comic book character. Human-turned-goddess that becomes the Queen of Hell and basically the Avatar of Death. Very pale. As for why you would roleplay her.....well, when else am I going to get a chance to say I fucked death up the arse?"
"I should ban you from going anywhere near my arse ever again just for being such a cheeky cunt." She scoffed, flicking his ear.
"Ow." He complained, rubbing at his ear.
"You had it coming."
"So, is that a no to Lady Death?" He asked instead of denying it. Smart man.
"Are there any films with her in it?"
"An animated one, I think. I have to admit that I only came across the character in passing when I was researching something else."
"And only looked into her further because she has good tits, I'll bet." Tonks snorted.
"All important female characters have great tits in comics." He countered smoothly, which was basically an agreement.
"You're lucky that I appreciate a good pair of tits myself and I suppose you do deserve a reward for such an amazing achievement."
"It wasn't that hard actually." Harry said casually.
"Sure, that's why there's so many Philosopher's Stones in the world." She snarked, strangely incensed by his cavalier attitude.
"The reason that there aren't more of them is because wizards are really bad at connecting the dots." Harry replied, amused. "You, Luna and Fleur don't have interests in the right direction, so you wouldn't be able to do it right away, but give it a few months of specialised instruction and you could. Dumbledore definitely could. I don't know what kinds of things Voldemort knows, but he might very well be able to do it. Flitwick, McGonagall and Snape working together probably could as well with some effort. It takes a good bit of skill with alchemy and magic in general, but it really isn't as hard as it's cracked up to be from a magical perspective, as long as you figure out the missing link."
"What missing link?"
"Chemistry." He stated, as if that explained everything.
It only made her blink in surprise and confusion. She had, at best, a very basic knowledge of chemistry and couldn't for the life of her see any connection between it and magic that would lead to the creation of a Philosopher's Stone.
".....What about it?"
Harry sighed in disappointment. "Chemistry studies the basic building blocks of the universe. Atoms, molecules, their properties and how they interact. A Philosopher's Stone is essentially element zero on the periodic table, the bridge between the physical and metaphysical. I'd be willing to bet my pinkies that Flamel was laughing himself sick for the past century or more as fully half the work needed to create a Philosopher's Stone, the harder half at that, was done by mundane scientists and not a single wizard saw it."
"That's probably for the best." Tonks said after processing the somewhat horrifying mental image of a world full of immortal wizards and witches.
"Probably." Harry agreed.
They lapsed into silence then, Harry settling back down against her chest as if to take a nap.
"So.....immortality, huh?" She asked lightly after a long few minutes of comfortable silence.
"I just wanted magical batteries." Harry admitted.
"I figured." Tonks replied sarcastically. "Is this going to help you make them?"
"Yes." He nodded. "The Stone might be most famous for its ability to transmute other metals into gold and creating the Elixir of Life, but I bet it can do more than just that. A lot more. I'm pretty sure that it can transmute anything into anything and if it can distill something as ephemeral as raw life energy into stable liquid form, then it should be able to do the same with magic. I still need to learn more about chemistry myself before I can attempt creatig Philosopher's Stone proper, but I know that I'm on the right track."
"Don't forget that we've got those ICW types coming over on the 1st." Tonks warned, knowing that it might slip his mind with a project like this to work on.
"Right, that." Harry muttered, sounding annoyed.
"You did finish preparing that spell you wanted to use, right?"
".....Almost."
"Well finish it, then you can play with the Philosopher's Stone."
"Yes, Mum."
"And don't sass me, young man. You're not too old for me to bend over my knee."
"That's more Luna and Septima's thing."
"Funny that you should mention Luna." Tonks began, pushing Harry to get up. "She's currently in bed with Fleur, where we should be as well."
"Ah." He winced. "It's that late already, is it?"
"Yes, and you've got some serius making up to do for doing this again after saying that you won't."
"Name your terms, woman."
"Well, there's this concert I wanted to go to and I could use some tough-looking male company..."
Harry groaned, which made Tonks smile. She knew that concerts didn't appeal to him at all, but he'd do it for her.
XXXXX
May 1st, 2018. Ravenhead, the Seeing Seat.
"They've arrived." Harry said, looking at the bright green names that designated visitors that hadn't signed the Book of Arrivals. Narcissa had gone to greet the ICW delegation with a special portkey that would let them skip that part. There was one somewhat surprising name among them. "Albus Dumbledore?"
"Figures that he'd invite himself along." Dora said with a frown. She was already in one of what she called her 'formal occasions forms'; taller, more beautiful and more regal than she preferred on a day-to-day basis, although the frequent shifting had the metamorphmagus treating her appearance much like a change of clothes nowadays.
"Does this change anything?" Fleur asked.
"No." Harry determined. "Even if he senses something, he won't say anything. He never does."
"Let's do it then!" Luna beamed.
"You are way too happy about this." Dora said wryly.
"I love having all three of you inside me." Luna replied simply.
"That part is nice." Dora conceded. "The rest of it not so much."
"Try to hold on to the good part." Harry advised, knowing that what they were doing would make it difficult to do so.
The girls all nodded and then all four of them cut both their palms on conveniently placed bits of sharpened metal.
Once that was done they all clasped hands in a circle and initiated a Spell Meld. The spell they were going to perform was intended to affect all of them and this was the best way to do it, not to mention that it was a bit complex for just one person to perform.
Harry took the lead in the crafting of the magic as he usually did and the girls kept its various components stable while he built new ones.
It took them nearly ten minutes to finish, time that Narcissa was buying them with a string of political courtesies.
"Crown of Glory." Harry intoned once it was done.
"Crown of Glory." The girls echoed, the spell spreading to all four of them.
The complex spell settled on them and within them, hidden beneath their auras and enhancing them. Harry had closely studied Fleur's veela Allure and its effects, as well as that odd spell Ophelia had over her bar, and produced the Crown of Glory from those studies, although the name and general idea of it had been shamelessly stolen from Dungeons & Dragons yet again.
The attention-drawing effects of Fleur's Allure spread to all four of them, but it was changed. A mien of terrible perfection and righteousness now radiated from them, altering the subconscious perceptions of all who looked upon them. Whatever the beholder found impressive about them would be magnified in their eyes and anything that would lower regard for them would be dimmed and more easily overlooked.
But the best part was that since the Crown of Glory was hidden inside their auras, it would be difficult even for the likes of Dumbledore to perceive the spell properly.
Harry wasn't willing to trust the outcome of this meeting to his artificial people skills, not on something that could cause them grief for years or decades afterwards if it went wrong. For all the training he'd had in politics and social graces, his natural inclinations were still decidedly anti-social and the ICW delegates weren't likely to be as easily handled as Fudge. The Crown of Glory brought his much more impressive skills as a wizard to bear against them.
Unfortunately, since the spell was nestled within their very being, it also had some side effects....
"This never gets any less weird." Dora said, clenching her fists and looking rather disgruntled.
"Having an ego this big is quite uncomfortable, it would be much better if everyone was like me." Luna agreed and then blinked. "Oh, that was pretty arrogant, wasn't it? Excuse me."
"You think you two have it bad?" Fleur asked sourly, but also with a certain haughty curl of her lip. "I want to make myself a throne and institute mandatory cunnilingus for petitioners."
Harry smiled at his veela lover with condescending amusement. As if he would ever let her slip the leash that much.
Harry frowned and shook the thought off. Troublesome spell. It would get worse, he knew. The effects of the Crown of Glory were cumulative and would continue building for as long as the spell was active. The process was slow, fortunately, but not negligible.
"Let's just get this over with, and keep a lid on your pride." He ordered, hiding a grimace when he saw Luna frown and Fleur and Dora bristle angrily at his tone before reigning it in. Worse still, his own temper simmered hypocritically at their reaction and he knew that it would be best if they limited interaction with each other until after this was over.
XXXXX
Albus was enjoying Narcissa's narrative on Spellhaven, it having changed quite a bit since his last visit, but he wondered at Harry's strategy. Sending his mistress to greet the ICW delegation instead of coming himself could be construed as an insult. Knowing his colleagues, it had been taken as an insult. And they were already tetchy at having their summons refused. Surely Harry had not grown so arrogant as to think that the reputation he had in Britain would carry over internationally?
Perhaps it was merely the folly of youth? Albus still lamented that Harry had refused his overtures of tutoring in the realm of politics that he had jumped into with the Pettigrew debacle. It would have been a perfect opportunity to forge a mentor/student relationship with the younger wizard. Certainly, if this was merely a mistake on Harry's part rather than a deliberate insult, it would not have happened with his tutelage.
But that was an opportunity lost and gone years ago and he had since then learned that Harry was too disdainful of authority for it to work as he'd envisioned anyway. The cold silver hand which had replaced the one that Harry had axed off served as a constant reminder that he would need to treat him as an equal. He often found it hard to do that after seeing people grow from tiny eleven-year-olds into adults, but Harry had certainly gone far since then, further than any of his former students in fact. Further even than Tom Riddle in many ways.
That was part of the reason that he was here actually. He didn't have to be. Indeed, his position as Harry's former headmaster might call his objectivity into question. Rightfully so, as he was here more to make sure that ICW politicking didn't get in the way of Harry fulfilling the prophecy and vanquishing Voldemort than he was to represent ICW interests. There had been grumbling at his unilateral decision to include himself in this, but he was still the Supreme Mugwump and could make such decisions. It would cost him some political capital in the future though.
Narcissa's delaying tactic – and Albus did recognise it as such– eventually ran its course and they were led towards the Potter residence on Spellhaven.
The room chosen for this meeting was fairly simple, tastefully decorated but boasting little in the way of furniture aside from the table and the chairs at which they were to sit.
Four of those chairs were considerably more impressive than the rest and were already occupied by Harry and his girlfriends.
Nymphadora Tonks sat to his right and Fleur Delacour to his left, while young Luna Lovegood sat on Ms. Delacour's other side. Oddly enough, they all had their hands clasped together on the armrests of their chairs. A gesture of support for each other or a show of unity? Albus couldn't tell.
Either way, they looked almost like a king and his queens awaiting the approach of supplicants. A sense of power and majesty radiated from them that dominated the room.
Albus hid a small frown as he hardened his magic against external influence and the niggling sense being in the presence of his betters dissipated. There was more going on here than met the eye. The feel of their maigc was.....not wrong exactly, but definitely not natural.
Harry's eyes flicked towards him and a miniscule smirk crossed his lips. A brief burst of Legilimency carried a definite sense of smugness.
What have you done, Harry? He queried with a return burst of Legilimency.
We're cheating. Can't you tell?
This was meant to be a discussion in good faith.
No such thing when dealing with politicians.
Albus hid another frown at his former student's cynicism. Harry always expected the worst of people.
"The ICW delegation, my lord." Narcissa said formally, putting an end to the brief exchange.
"Thank you, Cissy. That will be all." Harry acknowledged and dismissed.
Albus could swear he saw Narcissa giving Harry bedroom eyes as she left the room.
"I am Harry James Potter, Lord of Spellhaven and I speak for the group. With me are my companions, Nymphadora Tonks, Fleur Delacour and Luna Lovegood, without whom this island would not be what it is today." Harry began once the door clicked closed behind the former Mrs. Malfoy, indicating each of the women as he spoke their names. "Supreme Mugwump Dumbledore I already know, so if he would be so kind as to introduce the rest of you...?"
"Of course, Harry." Albus said, making a minor breach of protocol by being so familiar, something that he knew his compatriots would take note of. He often made such small breaches in protocol with people he knew so as to keep these proceedings a bit less stuffy.
He nodded towards the only female in their group as he began speaking. "The North American representative, Mugwump Gwendolyn Winters."
Albus felt more than saw the irritation of the woman in question at her title, which he knew she considered to be stupid-sounding and undignified..... or perhaps she objected more to its British origins. The ICW had been founded centuries ago, in a time when Magical Britain had been at the height of its power. It was a frequent proposal put forward by more than just the Americans to restructure it, but the British delegate always blocked such proposals. Not that anyone could agree on the details of such a restructuring anyway.
"I greet you in the name of the magi of North America." Gwendolyin said formally, her ice-blue eyes were fixed on Harry's with such intensity that Albus would take it for attraction if he didn't know better.
"Be welcome and find succor in our lands and home, Mugwump Winters." Harry smiled and replied just as formally, initiating the ancient pact of hospitality that carried with it the promise that there would be no hostile action taken on the part of either guest or host. A somewhat outdated custom, but still very relevant when dealing with powerful wizards and witches that had never met before.
"I am in your care, Lord Potter." The American witch completed the pact with the modern, abbreviated words of acceptance. The archaic original phrase was a good deal more long-winded and not entirely contextually appropriate these days.
Much to Albus' well-hidden shock, she actually smiled back as she said this. It wasn't necessarily a friendly expression, but it was definitely respectful. If he hadn't already known that Harry was doing something, he would have been suspicious on account of that alone.
Gwendolyn Winters was a tall witch in her sixties with pale skin, fine-boned features and silver-streaked auburn hair. She carried her years with such dignity and grace that the small wrinkles on her face only enhanced her good looks and had a spine so straight that even Minerva would be impressed. The concept of a 'handsome woman' might have fallen out of use in recent decades, but to Albus she exemplified the term.
The reason for his shock was that her last name was most apt. The Americans, both North and South, had a longstanding habit of never appointing anyone even remotely soft as their representative to the ICW due to the equally longstanding tension between the American and European magical realms. Winters was a perfect example of this, being a most formidable political adversary and not the type that was easily impressed. Her presence invariably meant trouble for someone, now it was just a matter of figuring out for who.
"The German representative, Mugwump Dietrich Hildebrand." Albus continued.
A wizard in his late eighties with a short white beard and a bit of a potbelly, the jovial and unthreatening Hildebrand was a stark contrast to the severe countenance of Winters. Albus knew that he was here on account of his ability to make friends.
That had perhaps not been the best of choices for the ICW, as Albus could see that he was already falling under the effects of whatever magic Harry and his girlfriends had worked.
"I greet you in the name of the wizards and witches of Germany."
"Be welcome and find succor in our lands and home, Mugwump Hildebrand."
"I am in your care, Lord Potter. And might I say that it is a true pleasure to meet such an outstanding group of magicals." Dietrich enthused jovially, drawing some askance looks from the others at his minor breach of conduct.
Harry looked as if he was about to reply when Ms. Delacour broke in, giving Hildebrand a half-lidded look of satisfaction. "The pleasure is all ours, Mugwump Hildebrand." The magic he sensed in the air almost seemed to....purr?....with approval.
Albus did not miss the way that Harry and Luna's grips tightened on the veela's hands, nor how the magic suffocating the room lost some of its cloying sweetness and spiked with frustration in response. Something to keep an eye on.
"The French representative, Mugwump Gaston Auger."
A wizard slightly older than Albus himself, Gaston was in fact the longest serving member of the ICW, having become the French representative on it back in 1932. Albus had worked with him against Grindelwald towards the end of World War II.
He and Dietrich were no doubt here to incorporate Spellhaven into the status quo, something that Albus doubted would be met with enthusiasm by Harry given what he knew of him.
The customary greetings passed without issue at least, although Albus noted that Gaston's greeting was a bit more deferential than normal for the old French wizard.
"The Indian representative, Mugwump Arun Nayar."
Albus didn't know this one as well as he probably should, wasn't even sure about his age aside from guessing him to be somewhere around seventy. He was a relatively recent addition to the ICW and a quiet one as well, seemingly more concerned with helping his nation penetrate the European trade market than anything else.
He and Winters had collaborated to ensure that they were both present for this meeting, which was part of the reason that it had taken so long for the ICW to get moving at all.
Albus sometimes despaired at how appropriate the term 'herding cats' was when talking about the ICW. Everyone wanted to go their own way.
"I greet you in the name of the wizards and witches of India."
"Be welcome and find succor in our lands and home, Mugwump Nayar."
"I am honored to accept the protection and hospitality of yourself and your lovely consorts, Lord Potter." Arun apparently decided to make a similar minor breach of conduct as Dietrich had, giving the three young women an admiring glance.
Albus knew immediately that this was a poor choice of words on the part of his colleague, and it was just because the air suddenly thickened with displeasure.
"All four of us sit here as equals, Mugwump Nayar." Nymphadora rebuked sharply, glaring at the Indian wizard with eyes that bled into an angry orange.
"I'm sure that wasn't what Mugwump Nayar meant." Harry intervened, giving the metamorphmagus' hand a firm squeeze. Then he turned his eyes on the wizard in question. "Right?"
"Of course, I meant no disrespect. My apologies for my poorly chosen words." Arun was quick to backpedal, looking distinctly embarassed and even a little afraid. The presence in the air calmed again and Nymphadora's eyes faded back to their previous vibrant purple.
"And finally the representative from Gringotts Britain, Negotiator Boneflay."
Goblins tended to be very to-the-point with their titles, as they were with everything else.
"Spare me your greetings, wizard, and let us get to work." Boneflay sneered, baring his pointy teeth. A grievous insult in goblin culture.
Albus resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. Goblins and their arrogance... He hoped that Boneflay didn't run afoul Harry's anger now that he had refused guest protection. There would be no protecting him if he did.
"As you wish, goblin." Harry sneered back with just as much hostility, making a return show of teeth that probably meant he knew exactly how insulting the gesture was.
"Please sit down, everyone." Young Ms. Lovegood said in a jarringly friendly manner after the exchange between Harry and Boneflay.
Albus wanted to give ten points to Ravenclaw for that diplomatic statement.