The first sign that Wonderland had begun to *recognize* Harry Potter was not thunder, or prophecy, or screaming flowers.
It was etiquette.
Doors began opening for him.
Not dramatically. Not with fanfare. They simply noticed him approaching and moved aside, hinges sighing in relief. Chairs adjusted themselves so he would not fall. Paths stopped arguing long enough for him to pass through the center.
The Mad Hatter noticed immediately.
"That," he said, pointing with his cane as a staircase bowed slightly to accommodate Harry's unsteady steps, "is *new*."
Harry did not notice.
He was busy attempting to feed a rock to a bird that insisted it was a teacup.
"Recognition," the Hatter muttered. "That's not good."
He scooped Harry up and turned in a slow circle, scanning the horizon.
Wonderland had gone quiet.
Not silent—never silent—but attentive, like an audience holding its breath.
"Listen," the Hatter said, lowering his voice. "If anyone offers you a crown, a title, or a throne—"
Harry grabbed his nose.
"Yes, well, if they offer *that* too, definitely refuse," the Hatter sighed. "But I meant *power*."
Harry babbled.
"Exactly," the Hatter said. "You're much too young for that nonsense."
---
They encountered the Queen just after lunchtime.
The Red Queen's court had set itself up in a clearing that was definitely not there yesterday. Red banners fluttered angrily despite the absence of wind. Card-soldiers stood in neat rows, their edges razor-sharp.
The Queen sat upon a throne of stacked rules.
Literal rules. Written, spoken, implied. They squirmed under her weight.
"Hatter," she snapped, tapping her scepter. "You're late."
"I'm early," the Hatter replied cheerfully. "Time is subjective."
The Queen's gaze dropped to Harry.
Her smile froze.
"What," she said slowly, "is *that*?"
Harry stared back.
The court shuddered.
"That," the Hatter said lightly, adjusting his grip, "is none of your business."
The Queen rose.
The rules beneath her hissed.
"You brought a human child into my domain," she said. "Unclaimed. Unnamed by us."
Harry's magic stirred, curious.
The air tightened.
"Yes," the Hatter said. "I did."
The Queen's eyes gleamed. "Then by right of Wonderland—"
"No," the Hatter interrupted, voice sharp as broken porcelain.
The court gasped.
The Queen blinked.
The Hatter smiled, and there was nothing friendly about it.
"He is *not* unclaimed," he said. "He is *unclaimed by you*."
Harry whimpered.
The ground cracked.
The Queen hesitated, recalculating.
She crouched instead, lowering herself to Harry's level.
"Little one," she cooed. "You are powerful."
Harry frowned.
"You could be *important*," she continued. "You could rule."
Harry yawned.
The Queen stiffened.
"Don't you want a crown?" she pressed.
Harry reached out and grabbed her scepter.
The scepter turned into a rattle.
The court screamed.
The Queen staggered back as the throne collapsed into loose sentences.
"What have you *done*?" she demanded.
Harry shook the rattle.
Rules unraveled.
The Hatter laughed—sharp, bright, delighted.
"Oh, that was *beautiful*," he said amused.
The Queen shrieked in fury. "Seize him!"
The card-soldiers lunged.
They never reached him.
The ground folded upward, forming a wall of roots and laughter. Paths twisted away, depositing soldiers in entirely different stories.
The Queen backed away, eyes wide.
"He's not wearing it," she whispered.
The Hatter's smile faded.
"No," he said quietly. "He isn't."
The Queen fled.
The court vanished.
The clearing sighed and returned to being a field of mushrooms.
---
They did not speak as they walked home.
Harry was unusually subdued, fingers fisting in the Hatter's coat.
"That was close," the Hatter said at last.
Harry looked up at him.
"Yes," the Hatter agreed softly. "Very close."
He knelt and set Harry down, meeting his gaze.
"There are things here that will want to *name* you," he said. "Crown you. Fix you into a shape they understand."
Harry stared.
"You must never let them," the Hatter finished.
Harry touched his own head, then shook it.
The Hatter laughed, relief shaking him.
"Good," he said happily. "Excellent instincts."
---
That night, the sky fractured into constellations that did not exist.
The Cheshire Cat watched from nowhere.
"Ah," he murmured softly. "They've noticed the vacancy."
Below, Harry slept, dreaming of empty thrones and crowns that melted when touched.
Wonderland shifted, uneasy.
A crown had been offered.
And refused.
The crown, displeased, began to wait.