Notes and warnings: This is very much a rough draft, kind of following a storyline I was interested in. If the magic system, oaths and worldbuilding look familiar to you, I almost certainly absorbed it from Keira Marcos and Jilly James and a few other notable fan authors over the years who have painted a much more robust system together than what JKR in all her mold-addled wisdom gave us. The fanon is about lordships, heirs, lord rings, ritual stuff and probably the house elves.
Chapter 1
He feels the veil. An instinctual knowing that crawls under his skin, a certainty sitting in the back of his mind that he isn’t consciously aware of, and yet–
And yet–
He sees Sirius falling towards the veil. The veil that is his but that man that is also his, the first adult that’s his, ever in his life, and his magic wrenches inside of him with pure panic.
Everything in him screams no– NO– will NOT–
His magic wrenches like a vast wave tearing into the hull of a ship, intent and raw power warping into something not unlike Accio, or so Hermione will tell him later.
Wandless summoning, the accidental magic version of a spell he’d spent weeks practing over and over.
(Sirius will tell him about Harry summoning toys in his crib.)
At the time, Harry feels it like an injury, like something torn free, and his magic wraps around Sirius, yanking him through the air. He’s stunned; the red jet of light from Bellatrix, her eyes flashing with it to look almost like Voldemort’s, lit up with vicious glee, obviously a stupify now that he thinks of it.
Sirius’ limp form hit the stone next to him and Harry cast cover spells to get the enemies away, flinging the most dangerous he knew and some he, technically, shouldn’t know.
“Rennervate.” Hermione snapped, somehow next to him, wand already out before she even stops moving. Her knees slide to a halt on the ground as she hits them from a run, bushy hair catching against her sweaty face.
Her left sleeve is singed almost all the way off.
Sirius comes to gasping. He also comes awake swinging, and Hermione holds him down– barely. He recognizes her, clearly, or more likely the wild curl of her magic, so close to the surface as it is, and stops struggling.
Then he rolls over and his wand flies to his hand, fallen some few inches away, and he joins Harry in keeping their enemies at bay. Particularly, Bellatrix is treating this as all some kind of game, cooing and dancing around his spells.
He feels a new kind of hatred well up inside him, black and unwavering, stronger than anything he’s ever felt for Voldemort. Voldemort is a monster wrapped in shadow, in nightmares and bloody triumph, in a grief so strong it often threatens to drown him.
Bellatrix is a mad dog that needs to be put down.
Sirius’ skills vastly outweigh his own and the tide turns. All but two retreat, likely to get more reinforcements. Most of the spells Sirius uses he doesn’t even recognize, but while Sirius has more dueling experience, Harry compensates by overpowering his spells significantly, blasting concrete off the walls even when his spells miss.
Finally, Lucius Malfoy grabs Bellatrix by the arm, and when she’s busy turning in pure outrage he stuns her with a grimace. He’ll probably pay for that one when she wakes up.
“We have you surrounded.” Lucius snarls, dragging her out of the door. “There’s no where to run.”
“They’re going to trap us in here for Voldemort.” Hermione realizes at once, staring at the doors. Sirius at once moves to reinforce them, casting powerful locking charms and moving debris to cover the doorways.
Harry assists by destroying several sets of benches, his spells doing what Sirius’ can’t and overriding some sort of protections on the stone. The veil sits in the center of the room, its curtains drifting ominously.
He can faintly hear whispers, but they only grow louder when he focuses on them, so he turns his attention immedaitely away from them.
It’s not hard; the stress pulling at Hermione’s features, her eyes and mouth, is infuriating. The near loss of Sirius had unsettled any certainy in him, rattling his foundation.
He did not feel safe to be around. He felt as if his magic was going to shake out of him and tear the building down if he let up on its lead even a little.
Her fingers closed around his wrist and the world stopped vibrating. He swallowed, dry, and focused on her– the eye of the storm, always.
“We have to get out of here.” She said to Sirius, honeyed eyes turning away from him but her body staying right where it was– close, enough that he could smell the sweat and anxiety and faint whiffs of her favorite floral perfume.
“Yes.” His mouth shifted with distaste. “You were right, by the way– if I had a loyal house elf, we wouldn’t be trapped like this. Nothing short of the wards on Azkaban can keep a bonded elf away from his noble master.”
The heartbeat thundering in his ears faded a little, formless emotion crystalizing into a way forward. He took a deep breath. It was a gamble, but one he’d make.
“Dobby!” He pushed magic into the call. It felt oddly malleable, as if yanking Sirius to him had put it in a more tactile shape; one he could clumsily direct this way or that.
The house elf immediately popped in, taking in the area with wide bulbous eyes.
“You is not supposed to be being here, Harry Potter, sir!”
“I formally offer you the shelter of the House of Potter.” Harry dropped to his knees, offering his hands. Dobby took them so fast they couldn’t be sure he didn’t pop into position.
“Dobby accepts!” Magic rushed between them, blue and wild as a heart of fire.
–
Chapter 2
“Get us to Gringotts!” Sirius said, and so saying, leaned in, grabbing Hermione’s hand as he did, and placing both them both on Dobby’s arm as it still shimmered blue.
The world shuddered and cracked around them. When the sensations faded, he was still on his knees– but in a marble atrium.
“You used the bonding surge to rip through the Ministry’s wards.” Hermione said, once she got her air back. Dverger rushed around them. Familiar hands steadied him and he looked up to see his account manager, Ior Starkhonor.
“My godson packs a hell of a punch, magically.” Sirius said, wiping his mouth where a trickle of blood had appeared and dried. Who among the death eaters had resorted to throwing fists?
“Understatement.” Ior muttered darkly, pulling Harry to his feet. “What happened that you’d resort to fleeing here so openly? No, it can wait– follow me.”
The dverger led them through a short hallway and into an impersonal office, not the one that Harry had visited before. They slapped their long-fingered hand against a seal and magic shuddered through the room.
“Privacy.” The dverger explained, impatient. “Now, your tale?”
“Voldemort lured me– us– into a trap.” Harry said shortly, irritation clouding his voice. He’d been so stupid.
“He’s tricked wizards older and smarter than you.” Sirius said lowly, dropping a hand onto Harry’s shoulder. “Be grateful we got out alive.”
“Yes, we did.” Harry said, turning sharply. “What about the others?”
Escape had been paramount in his mind, keeping the prophecy out of Voldemort’s hands, but it just now hit him that he left the others.
Sirius cursed, drawing his wand. “Who all was with you?”
“Neville, Luna, Ron and Ginny.”
He started to cast and paused, gaunt fingers curled around the wood of his ebony wand. “They won’t know my voice. You’ll have to do it. Mooney said you picked up the patronus spell fast, yeah?”
Harry nodded.
“Good– twist your wand like this at the end, and focus on the message you want to send, and your hope that it will reach your friends safely. The incantation is Expecto Patronum Nuntium.”
It took a few seconds to get in the right headspace, though the spell was almost second nature by now. The focusing aspect had become leaps and bounds easier. It had been years since Harry had to find a specific memory to focus on; he’d found that casting by summoning forth the appropriate feelings— that most people pulled from their memories, he thought– to be a superior method.
Bringing up his holly wand, Harry paid more attention to the spell than he had since third year.
He burned the feeling of Sirius landing in his arms, safe and alive despite the fear that had lurched inside him at the sight of the veil, into his mind’s eye. Hermione’s hand slipped into his, grounding him more than even Sirius’ hand on his shoulder, but both were impossibly, wonderfully real.
“Expecto Patronum Nuntium,” Harry cast, twisting his wrist at the end, and Prongs burst into thunderous being, hooves loud on the tile. It did a quick circle, bowing one knee and its large antlers in front of Harry.
At his nod, it turned and raced off, through the walls of Gringotts like they weren’t even there.
“That patronus was nearly solid.” Ior said blankly, before shaking themself. “What was the message?”
“That we got out safely, mostly.” Harry admitted. “I told them to find the Order members and retreat if they can.”
He punched his thigh. “There’s nothing we can do from here, but going back would be suicide.”
“Certainly it’s what Voldemort wants.” Sirius agreed. He turned to Ior. “The trap was in the Ministry itself. I don’t know who all is compromised, but at least one Unspeakable.”
“Rookwood.” Hermione and Harry said at once. He nodded at her to go on and she did.
“The others called him by name. He nearly got me with a powerful spell I’ve never seen before– a purple whip of flame.”
“Rookwood. Augustus Rookwood?” Sirius huffed. “I know that Death Eater– he was active in the last war. Well done on avoiding that spell; it’s fatal.”
Harry’s hand tightened around hers and she shot him a reassuring smile.
“The Ministry is corrupt.” Harry said. “It doesn’t have to be compromised by Death Eaters. Dolores Umbridge is our Defense teacher this year and she’s been torturing students. To say nothing of the stupid decrees.”
Sirius looked up sharply.
–
Chapter 3
What followed was something Harry couldn’t get out of, even if he’d wanted to. The more relevant events of that night were completely derailed by Ior and Sirius focusing in on his comment, leaving Harry rather bewildered. Surely the dark wizard and his followers making a move was more important than the comparatively old news of their awful professor?
But the adults in the bronzed office didn’t agree, for some reason, and insisted he tell the full story– they wouldn’t hear anything more of Voldemort until he recounted each of Umbridge’s crimes.
The firm line of Hermione’s mouth showed he’d get no assistance there, so in short order his hand was examined, exclaimed over, and documented.
Sirius in particular was explosive in his rage, throwing several curses into the impenetrable walls of the office. They didn’t so much as singe the brickwork, but he said “Apologies for my outburst.” In a tight voice to the dverger.
Ior was scowling. “I can’t fault you for it. This is intolerable. Blood quills are a dverger artifact. Their creation is sacred and part of the process involves the blessing of the god of blood and magic. We have only ever given wizards a handful. Where did she get it?”
Ior stalked off, the large door slamming dramatically behind them, and when a startled Harry moved to follow, Sirius caught him.
“Don’t.” He said lowly to them both. “Subourning a sacred dverger object is an act of war. To use one to torture children is so beyond the pale that it makes Voldemort look like a preschooler.”
His mouth was a grim line.
Harry took a ragged breath. Ior came in with a slightly taller dverger, his hair drawn up in braids like a crown around his temples.
“Heir Potter, Heir Black, may I present Kvasir Bloodforged– Chieftain of the Horde.”
The wizards were too stunned to speak, which was well.
“Before we managed to escape Hogwarts, Umbridge tried to cast the cruciartus.” Hermione said, standing forward, her chin raised despite the tremble in her hands. “She clearly has no compunction against the unforgiveables.”
“You suspect the Imperius? That angle will be considered thoroughly. We have dverger accounting for every Blood Quill in the bank and outside of it in this country.” Chieftain Kvasir said, voice harsh. “This woman, she works for your Ministry?”
“She’s Senior Undersecratary to their Minister– not unlike Seier Whitsword’s position to you, sire.”
“I see.” the Cheiftain was not pleased. “When you left, she was also acting Headmaster of the wizard school?”
Harry nodded.
“The wards were resisting her but she had all the acting power. The teachers did everything short of open rebellion to oppose her.” Harry wet his lips, suddenly compelled to explain better. The idea of Professors McGonnagal or Flitwick being judged for their inaction made his blood run cold.
“I think– no, I know that the other professors were afraid of getting sacked, as Umbridge had already fired several teachers when she was only High Inquisitor. If they defied her, they’d have been fired instantly, and there would be no one to protect the younger students.”
The Cheiftan threw himself into the chair behind the desk, clenching the armrest with obvious irritation. Finally, he rifled through the drawer for a clean sheet of parchment, wrote something on it, and sealed it with a gesture. The document rolled itself shut and vanished in a sparkle of golden magic.
Then, Chieftain Kvasir sat forward seriously.
“As she was acting with the blessing of the British Ministry of Magic when she committed these crimes, we declare it a breach of our agreements with that body. All contracts are hereby null and void.” His words rang out with power.
He gestured and Ior stepped forward with a familiar box.
“Heir Potter, it was only our former agreement with your government that limited our ability to assist you in matters of your estate. Now we are limited only by magic itself. Will you take the ring of your fathers and rise as patriarch?” The box opened to reveal the Potter lordship ring, an enormous blue sapphire set in silver.
Hermione’s mouth dropped open but Harry only swallowed. He stepped forward and took the ring with a shaking hand, slipping it onto his finger.
The blue magic of his house shimmered violently over his skin, a hurricane inside sweeping over his core, yet there was no pain. It was cool and comforting, a welcoming force that soothed some of the aching loneliness he’d grown up with.
Another dverger knocked, stepped into the room, and gave a deep bow to his king. He was holding another box, which he stepped forward with at the gesture of the Cheiftan .
“Heir Black, you have not been convicted of any crimes by my nation. The Horde grants you political asylum from your former country of birth on grounds of extreme corruption–in the event that you come forward as an expatriate.”
“I renounce any ties to the British Ministry of Magic until such time as they admit wrongdoing against my house and cleanse themselves of corruption and greed.” Sirius said at once, voice low and gravelly but strong, thick with confidence. He plucked the massive black diamond out of the box and shivered as darkness enshrouded him from his feet upwards, then vanished deep into his core.
He looked poleaxed, and the dverger turned from Sirius to give the man some semblance of privacy as he came to terms with the onslaught of magic.
“Unfortunately, young lady, you do not have any noble heritage to claim that I know of.”
Hermione offered a shaky grin.
“I know.”
Harry paused in thought.
He knelt and said something quietly to Dobby, whose eyes widened. The elf vanished in a pop, causing all of the dverger to sigh briefly, only to return almost immediately with another box.
“That had better not be a wedding ring, Harry James.” Hermione said faintly, brown eyes almost as wide as Dobby’s.
Harry laughed.
“Don’t worry, it’s not. But as Lord Potter, I can do something I’ve been wanting to do for years.” He opened the box to show a trio of rings, each subtly different, though the theme of silver and blue remained. Harry paused briefly. “Although in the interests of full transparency, nothing I’m about to say would preclude your marriage into the Potter family in the future.”
Pink rushed into her cheeks. Harry inhaled deeply, looking away for a moment.
He focused on her. The urge to get on one knee was strong, perhaps something of the magic– some remnant of oaths and kings– but he knew with her earlier guess, such a gesture would freak her all the way out, and so he refrained, though his words had a solemnity that wouldn’t be out of place from ritual.
“I would take you into my house as a ward. It will give you certain legal protections and the hook of Potter family magic, possibly gifts of our bloodline. It’s an adoption of sorts but it’s not unusual at all for the ward to go onto marry into the family later, strengthening the tie.”
She looked to Sirius and Harry tried not to be offended. It had actually taken years to get Hermione to doubt everything she learned until she had confirmed it with multiple, reputable sources, so he had only himself to blame.
His godfather openly laughed.
“It’s actually fairly common– the marriage bit, anyway. Not incestuous in any way; and I’d know.” He grinned briefly. “If Harry didn’t offer it, I’d be on my knee to you. Both because I owe you a life debt and because he’s right– this will protect you in ways precious few others not of Noble birth will ever be protected, pureblood or not.”
Hermione bit her lip in a charming fashion and nodded.
“What do I have to do?”
Something deep in Harry relaxed.
“You pick a ring, first.” He murmured. “Then there’s a small magical exchange. Without the rings we’d have to do this in ritual, but my ancestors distilled the ritual itself down into just two components–the magic forged into the rings and a few words.”
“An oath.” Hermione surmised, her own voice soft. He nodded
Her hand reached out and hovered over the box. They were all feminine in nature, yet distinctly adorned.
The first was not quite connected in a loop, its body a piece of metal bent into curling infinity loops that kissed at the top but did not weld together. Gems were studded into the configuration, small sapphires and diamonds.
The second was in the shape of a dragon curled around itself, a large diamond held in place by its sinuous shape. Several blue stones studded down the dragon’s back as if they were the spikes along its spine.
The last made her breath catch because it was a more traditional ring, but the housing was stylized to look somewhat like silver vines. The stone was a hexagonal blue gem– not a sapphire but a blue diamond. Four smaller sapphires were studded throughout the configuration, hanging from the vines like stars studded into the night sky.
“My wand is vine wood, you know.” She whispered. He nodded.
Harry took it without a word and handed the box back to Dobby, where it promptly vanished. He held it out to her, standing as equals.
“I take you, Hermione Isobel, into the House of Potter. Do you accept the shelter of my magical house?”
“Yes.” She sighed, taking the ring from him and slipping it onto her finger in one unhesitant, smooth motion.
It also showed a trust he would not take for granted, that she was accepting this on mostly his say-so without so much as a book to reference. He’d fill her in on the specifics of the protections as soon as they had a chance, but it warmed him throughout that she’d put on his ring without more than the barest of questioning.
When it slid into place his shoulders relaxed for the first time in what felt like months– if not years.
He stepped closer and stopped just short of dropping a kiss to her forehead, tangling a hand in her hair against her neck to keep her skill. She was dangerously pliant in his arms, so trusting it made him ache.
He pressed the words against her skin.
“Then may every member of the House of Potter– living or dead; past, present or future– accept you as their own. You are mother, sister, wife and daughter. You are ours. Your battles will be our battles. Your debts will be our debts. Your enemies will be our enemies. So shall it eternally be.”
“So shall it be.” Hermione and Sirius and– surprisingly– the dverger present echoed.
Harry kissed her forehead, then, and much like with Dobby earlier– magic shuddered forth, blue and as greedy as the heart of fire. It rushed to her, eager like a child, and Harry realized some part of him had been holding it back perhaps as early as the first hug she’d given him, a desperate reaching deep in his magic that he hadn’t even known about until it found her.
He stepped back, a touch red in the face but so relieved he could hardly care.
“‘My enemies will be your enemies?’ Oh, you— it sounds an awful lot like you just got legal permission to fight anyone who so much as insults me, Harry!”
Sirius grinned. “That’s the benefit of being sheltered by a Noble house.” He laughed at her striken expression. “Harry can, will and should duel anyone who insults your honor– and by extension, his honor– as a member of his House.”
That was no small amount of the reason he did it so Harry didn’t bother to restrain a grin.
“Harry James Potter!” She huffed, slapping him on the shoulder.
His hand slid out of her hair and both of them found their way to her waist, keeping her from overbalancing in her righteous fury.
“Hermione Isobel Potter.” He returned, quiet as if just between the two of them, and the soft pink across her cheeks erupted into a red that nearly erased her freckles.
He stepped away from her with a little grin before he did something silly and she stomped her foot with faux anger.
Harry’d barely gone a step away before Sirius swept him up.
“Quick, before they put things back in order. I name you, son and heir, my blood and magic. Tojurus Pur.” He grabbed Harry’s hand and without so much as a ‘by your leave’ slid a small black band inlaid with diamonds onto his finger.
A familiar magic swept him up, dark books and the protective shadows of Grimmauld Place, Sirius’ hugs and aftershave. A closer look at the ring revealed three rows of stones–five large black diamonds in the center row, and smaller, tiny diamonds in the two rows above and below, seventeen total.
The Black heir ring.
Harry huffed but couldn’t quite stop tears from welling up, though he didn’t let them fall even as his throat closed tightly. He nodded at Sirius who clapped him once more on the shoulder.
–
Chapter 4
“Any other wizard family magic to be done?” Chieftain said somewhat impatiently. “No? Good. You’re right to rush through what Britain made unlawful, but if I had any say in it at all the break will be a permanent one. Certainly any agreements in the future would be stringently in our favor.”
“The last war in Britain limited your rights significantly.” Hermione said aloud. “It restricted Dverger wandrights and forbade any future ‘rebellions.’”
“An agreement forced onto us by cowardly and underhanded tactics. We will not be caught unawares again.” Kvasir smiled grimly. “We’ve been waiting for them to break their side of the agreement and this foolish chit of a woman has done so.”
Harry barely paid attention in History of Magic– much of it was racist, biased, and so threaded with propoganda that the truth wasn’t so much shrouded as outright not present amongst the lies– but he’d researched dverger history after meeting his account manager. He remembered a little of the last rebellion’s end– it had involved an infant taken hostage, preying on the Horde’s well-known intolerance of harm to children, something that showed now as the Chieftain continued.
“I regret the circumstances that caused it– my nation would rather wait another few decades for an opportunity to break our covenant with magical Britain than see children hurt and misused to provide one.”
“What’s done is done.” Sirius said pragmatically. “We can’t change the past so we might as well milk this situation for all that we can– for as long as we can.”
“Ideally, we’d use this as an excuse to part with Brtain entirely, but no such option exists in so short of time.” The Cheiftan scowled.
“We’re required by international treaty to maintain a certain number of branches in wizarding enclaves, and a breach by Britain isn’t a breach with the ICW itself– we’ll have to open up negotiations.”
“So you don’t have anywhere to go.” Harry said, understanding that much. He felt similar, he realized– he knew he’d have to return to Hogwarts, and Sirius to that safe house that was almost as much a prison to him as Azkaban for all that he could leave it, and he couldn’t see any way around either.
“Wizarding enclaves have been shrinking in number for centuries.” Hermione said, thoughtfully. Harry stiffened because he knew that voice– the slow puzzling of a problem she could solve.
“Yes.” Ksavir said slowly, wondering at her tone as well. “There’s not even one per country in some parts of Europe. We’re also limited to one branch per wizarding nation; it’s why we have a branch here in London but not, for example, in Hogsmeade.”
“So… you can’t just close Britain’s branch because you have to maintain a certain number per the treaty, and closing a branch would put you below that number… but you can’t move Britain’s branch to somewhere outside the country, either, because the countries with a Gringotts branch obviously already have one, and the countries without a Gringotts branch don’t have an enclave to support one…” Harry tried to follow their logic, here, aware he was likely ‘dumbing it down.’
Hermione suddenly jerked like she’d been electrocuted. All heads in the room turned toward her.
“So make a new country.” She said, in a rush the way she sometimes got when she had a new idea or spell. “Make a new wizarding enclave in a new country!”
“We can’t just make a new country.” Sirius protested immediately. “I mean, the Blacks have a few island properties, but those aren’t big enough– to be a wizarding enclave, you have to have a population of what, 300?”
“To have the British Ministry declare your community officially an enclave and put up anti-muggle wards, you have to have at least 300 magicals and no muggles.” Hermione corrected. “But that’s within Britain, and it’s in an already established space– like Godric’s Hollow, which lost the right some fifty years ago when they couldn’t maintain the population. Right?”
Sirius nodded slowly, so she continued, powering through like a steam engine. Her hair even got a small bit more curly as a result of the subtle magic and Harry would never, ever tell her, absolutely charmed by an effect he’d first noticed in second year.
“The international requirements are different. So long as you already have anti-muggle wards, and an all-magical population, you can call yourself an enclave all you want. The treaty doesn’t specify enclaves within the ICW, correct?”
Kvasir was starting to grin despite himself.
“I unfortunately have every word of that treaty committed to memory and you are quite correct, Miss Potter.” He curled a finger under his chin. “What exactly do you propose?”
She lifted her chin confidently.
“Dverger can’t found a wizarding enclave, but wizards can. We could even apply as a new member state to the ICW once we’re established.”
“We’d have to be quite large.” Sirius interrupted. “A single village or family can’t call themselves a nation, not even if they own the land outright– otherwise the Blacks might have done it ages ago, we’ve got enough uncharted islands in international waters.”
Harry snorted despite himself.
“Don’t count yourself out, kid, you’re legally Harry Potter-Black right now.”
Harry blinked in surprise, glancing at his ring.
“Really? Huh.”
“It so happens that my nation has enough land to fund such an endeavor.” The Chieftan said, abruptly. “And you’re right– if you establish yourselves there, it’ll have to be a kingdom with a clear monarch. No other system of government would work, but ironically enough it was Britain that codified the right for a declared monarch to maintain autonomy of his people right into the founding charter of the ICW.”
Sirius barked a laugh.
“Right, I remember– this was back when Europe was separated into literal kingdoms.” He said, then looked at Harry and Hermione to explain, “The Statute of Secrecy was signed in the 1600s, but the ICW was founded much earlier– back in 1287. Everyone was less a ‘nation’ as we understand it and either a kingdom, an empire or a tribe.”
Harry turned to Hermione, curious. She took a breath and visibly concentrated. Her eyes fluttered closed, a wrinkle appearing between her brows.
“Although France after the French Revolution (1787–99) is often cited as the first nation-state, some scholars consider the establishment of the English Commonwealth in 1649 as the earliest instance of nation-state creation.” She said clearly. “But the Peace of Westphalia in 1648 was even earlier. It established the modern understanding of national boundaries as between co-equal sovereign entities.”
Ksavir pointed a quill at her from behind the desk he’d comandeered.
“You are very interesting, magically.” He said, only to balk under Harry’s glare. He grinned without rancour. “It’s true. A mental gift, I take it?”
“Not occlumency.” Hermione roused herself to say. “I remember everything I’ve ever read, though I have to enter an almost trance-like state to recall it word for word like that.”
“Fascinating.” The dverger said, only to raise both hands in surrender when Harry took her hand pointedly. “But assuredly not the point of today’s discussion. You were saying?”
He looked at her almost indulgently and Harry had to physically stop himself from grinding his teeth.
“The easiest path to legitimacy is by joining the ICW, and the easiest way to do that is to take advantage of the provision for sovereign kingdoms in the founding charter.” She admitted. “Either of you could do it without raising legal issues simply by being Noblemen.”
“We’d be at risk of treason to the king, if we had one, but Britain hasn’t had a magical king in six hundred years.” Sirius rubbed his chin. “The ministry shares a relationship with the Muggle Queen but that’s due to our agreements to our own monarchy– the system was set up to be two monarchs working aside but not beholden to another, magical and muggle.”
At Harry’s visible surprise, he elaborated. “The full title is the ministry of magic, of the magical kingdom of Britain.”
“We’ve been running without a monarch for six hundred years?” Hermione’s mouth dropped open in outrage. “No wonder it’s so.. So…”
“So utterly ridiculous?” Sirius asked. “You’d be right. The minister was a position elected by the remaining nobles of the king’s court as a stop-gap measure until an heir could be found, but none was, and it’s gotten increasingly stupid since. My grandfather could go on and on about it. The Wizengamot evolved out of those same noble families, from Arthur’s round table to what we know today, still making laws and presiding over criminal trials in the King’s absence, using the Minister– who’s voted in– as a means to keep the population from revolting entirely.”
“It’s particularly irritating to deal with legally, yes.” Kvasir said. “Your– former– legal system is a nightmare run by idiots, if I’m being polite about it.”
Harry laughed out loud and then coughed.
“Sorry.”
“No, lad– you’re right. I’d laugh too if I hadn’t gone far past that to the point of despair.” The Chieftain sighed. “But your ward has provided the single point of hope in centuries, so I’m willing to use the confusion of Britain’s treaty breaking– which we are not required to actually announce– to help this plan. We must move quickly, however, before the wizards notice we stopped upholding it.”
“You said you had land?” Sirius sat forward. “In what part of the world?”
“Dverger own much land independently and as a nation but we’re not allowed, per the treaty with the ICW, to place bank locations on them– or more specifically ‘build cavernous structures underground, except in those places specified by treaty’. Since we live underground in such structures, we’ve been forced to leave most of our land untouched and wild. Even mining it would be a violation, so our hands are entirely tied.”
“Giving it to us would be better than literally letting it go to waste?” Harry hazarded, only to have Hermione cut him a look. He shrugged. “What? It’s true.”
“Unfortunately I can’t even argue the point.” Kvasir nearly growled, tapping his quill. “Ideally, we’d be making a new agreement with you for joint ownership or leased use of the land but Lord Potter is right– we literally must give you the land outright, because while irritating it is indeed better than being forced to leave it completely uncultivated.”
“Well, you can’t lease it to us or co-own it– but we could put in some very generous terms in the sale, right?”
Kvasir stared at him. So did Hermione and Sirius.
“Well it’s not like we’re going to take it for free, right? We have a lot of gold between us in the Black and Potter vaults, which is good because it sounds like we’re talking about a lot of land, here. It might take all the gold we have.”
Sirius put his head in his hands as Ior outright threw their head back and laughed.
“I will never tire of doing business with Potters.” The dverger said, utterly delighted at the look on their Chieftain’s face. They pointed a crooked finger. “That! That right there.”
“Well, it’d probably be with business with the Blacks, officially. Since Sirius will be the king and all.” Harry said, joining in the good humor.
A moment passed, weirdly strange. He realized they’d stopped laughing. All eyes in the room looked at him. Harry felt a horrible sense of foreboding.
–
Chapter 5
“What do you mean it’d have to be me? That’s insane!” Harry was trying not to let the hysteria into his voice, sure this had to be some misunderstanding. No need to get worked up over a simple misunderstanding, after all!
“Harry. Kiddo. It can’t be me. The bank is one thing, but the ICW wouldn’t be able to acknowledge the legitimacy of a place run by a wanted criminal of one of their member states.”
“Gringotts– the Dverger Horde– isn’t a member?” Harry asked curiously, buying time. Sirius couldn’t be king when he was a criminal– maybe they could get his name cleared before forming the kingdom? But they’d been trying and not even becoming Lords would work if the Ministry was corrupt– and they’d escalated to outright character assassination against Harry in the last year.
“Oh, no. We tried to join, once. But at this point I’m not sure we would join the body as it currently stands.” Kvasir said, still amused. “We’re a separate entity. That also means we’re not subordinate to the ICW save for those specific ways outlined in international treaties. Specifically, the most recent, the Dverger-Wizard Treaty of 1692, forged shortly after the Statute of Secrecy and, incidentally, the last international dverger war.”
“I can’t be a king. I’m fifteen.” Harry said, blinking unsteadily. But already his heart was sinking. Of course it’d be him– it was always him. No matter the circumstance, it was always Harry.
Sirius leaned over and ruffled his hair.
“Cheer up, Prongslet. You’ll be a king.” Sirius grinned lopsidedly– the lopsided grin Harry almost lost today. It hit him all over again, like a knife to the heart.
For Sirius– for Sirius’ freedom— he would do just about anything.
“Well. I guess I could give you political asylum, if I were…”
He couldn’t even bring himself to say it.
“King Harry.” Hermione grinned, visibly still shocked herself. They’d both assumed the adult amongst them would take the position but she’d rallied far faster than Harry– when had they ever been able to let an adult handle things?
“King Harry James Hyperion Potter-Black.” Sirius mused.
Harry turned around to stare at him.
“Hyperion?” He demanded.
Hermione blinked.
“Like the Hyperion proto-supercluster?”
Sirius made a finger gun at her. “Yes.”
He saw Harry’s confusion.
“The Blacks name their kids after stars. We’ve been slowly releasing information about the universe to muggles– mostly because their space programs are flat-out fascinating– and that one will be shared in oh, around thirty years or so. At least, we’ll point them in the right direction to discover it themselves.” He shrugged. “They don’t quite have powerful enough astronomy equipment for it yet without magic. I’m not sure who exactly is in charge of it all right now; last time I checked, it was my aunt Cassieopia.”
“But why does that have to do with me?” Harry demanded, heart beating fast. Sure, his last name was hyphenated Black now, but… He watched Sirius with wide eyes.
The man didn’t look even a little sheepish, just confused.
“Because I’m your godfather? I adopted you in blood and magic when you were hours old. Legally, I’m your third parent.”
It was like the ground opened up beneath his feet. If it hadn’t been for Hermione and Sirius both reaching out for him in alarm, he would have fallen.
“I’m going to found my own kingdom just to go to war with Magical Britain.” Harry hissed, vision clouded over with red. “I didn’t– I was raised with the Dursleys for nothing— if you’d had a trial– if you–”
His throat tightened on him. He was shaking.
Sirius nudged Hermione aside and pulled Harry into his chest, hugging him close. It was one of only a handful of times that someone had hugged him, much less an adult, and the first time it was someone he could really, truly trust to be on his side.
Third parent sounded in his ears like a war drum, beating over and over again along with his heart.
“Shh, pup, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I should have– made it clear. Made sure you knew. I’m sorry. I should have– should have been there–”
The others gave them room to talk quietly, for Harry to compose himself. By the time he brought his head up from Sirius’ shoulder, his eyes were red but dry.
“Master Harry be needing cake.” Dobby decided, before clicking his fingers and nodding. He vanished abruptly.
“The elf is right.” Kvasir said. “We’re apparently going to hash out not only a treaty but a sale. Let’s sit”
He conjured six chairs around the desk at which he was seated, one Dobby-sized.
“If we want to keep the Dverger nations’ part in this mostly obscured, we should wait to form a treaty.” Hermione said slowly. “That way when you approach us, it’ll be as two sovereign states– the ICW can’t complain, especially if we’re already a member at the time.”
“Best do it before ICW membership.” Sirius disagreed. “That way we can avoid all the red tape– the treaty dictates what ICW nations can and can’t do with the Horde.”
“Indeed.” Kvasir grinned darkly. “So let’s see just how much red tape we can avoid.”
Ior took their chair and pulled toward them a stack of parchment, an ever-inking quill, and started jotting down furious notes.
“Where is this land, anyway?” Harry took his own chair, trying to pretend the tremble in his hands was just– low blood sugar, or something. Dobby was right– cake would fix it.
Just as he thought that, almost as if he’d tempted fate, the air over the table shimmered. A tea set appeared and absolutely took over the desk. Piles of biscuits and cakes appeared in tiered glass platters, reaching up toward the ceiling. Dobby appeared a moment later looking pleased with himself, only to squeak when he saw his chair.
“This is the most use this unassigned office has seen in years.” Ior muttered. “Odd that such an important meeting be here of all places.”
Harry set about making Dobby’s plate first, piling little treats onto it in front of his chair and even pouring him a small cup of steaming tea.
“Sugar or milk?” Harry asked.
Dobby stared at him.
“King Harry is a cruel master.” He accused, but the pitiful voice couldn’t hide the hint of smirk, and Sirius burst out laughing at the poleaxed expression that graced his godson’s face.
“We could move somewhere more formal if you like, but this way is more likely to keep it underwraps.” The Chieftan said, causing Ior’s eyes to widen. “No, it’s better here. We can get by– it’s not like we’ll want for food or drink. Apparently”
“Where is this land, anyway?” Hermione asked, echoing Harry’s earlier question. Ior clicked his fingers and a table appeared, and then a map. It showed the south pacific ocean and she couldn’t help but snort.
“Of course.”
When they turned to her, she explained.
“As far as muggles are concerned, this is the largest bit of uninterrupted sea that exists. In fact, there’s a point on earth– in the middle of the ocean– where the closest living human is 350 kilometers above you, on the Mir space station.” She drew her finger along the map. “Just here– equidistant between Chile in South America and New Zealand, which is of course off the coast of Australia, and a third point from Antartica– there’s also a few islands to the north. And I’d bet anything muggles only think that there’s no land there.”
“People in space?” Sirius asked, blinking rapidly. “What, all the time? Really?”
“You had to have known about the space race.” Hermione said. “It happened while you were in Hogwarts– we went to the moon.”
“Yes, yes, we knew about that part. But sustained space presence?”
“Oh, you were… well.. In Azkaban at the time. Russia and the United States made a joint effort.”
“Weren’t they at war?” Sirius asked, flabbergasted.
Hey! Even Harry knew this one.
“The Cold War ended in 1991.” He said confidently. “They were discussing it back in primary and then when I came back from Hogwarts first year, it was all anyone was talking about on the telly.”
“Huh.” Sirius said, then visibly shook himself to look at the map. A puzzled expression crossed his face.
Hermione squinted at it, then at the dverger.
“I don’t suppose this land was acquired in the late fourteen-hundreds?” She asked shrewdly.
Kvasir laughed a little.
“Oh, you are clever, aren’t you? Close. We got ahead of the ‘exploration’ a bit.” Kvasir trailed a finger over the map and it shimmered a little before a land mass appeared. “This area had a bit of magical protection already, so muggle ships completely missed it. Maps of the area are skewed as a result. Similar to the Appalachian mountains in North America and several forests in Europe, large areas are magically hidden and as a result, muggle maps look much smaller than ours.”
Harry couldn’t even process the idea that the maps of the world he’d studied were wrong because of some sort of wizard space hiding half of the area they covered. He was too busy staring at the area revealed– because the map did show New Zealand as one of the closest points of land, and it also showed Australia.
And the land mass that revealed itself under Kvasir’s touch was significantly larger.
“It’s bigger than Australia.” Harry said, numbly. Then, again, even though he tried to say something else, anything else: “It’s bigger than Australia.”
“Congratulations, King Harry. It’s a continent.” Sirius said, clapping him on the back and absurdly pleased with himself for his own joke.
–
The King Harry thing didn’t stop getting passed around the entire time they talked, hashing out the big talking points that would be broken into finer, more legal-ese points later. Once they got the major agreements out of the way, they mostly debated how they’d word it.
Harry let Hermione take over for most of that, and the dverger seemed entertained that the future of a wizarding nation would be determined largely by a sixteen-year-old witch.
The King Harry joke got brought up over and over again, the entire time– in fact, it got brought up right until he signed the provisionary document, at which point he finally realized it wasn’t a joke anymore.
Sirius caught his hand before he could sign.
“What?” Harry said, almost numb. “Didn’t you agree with most of this?”
“Hm? Oh, no, it’s something else. Once you sign, you’re largely bound to the name you choose. What do you want your regnal name to be?”
“My what?”
“Rulers pick a name to be known by during their reign, and for the history books.” Hermione explained cheerfully. “The current Queen of England was christened Elizabeth Alexandra Mary, but she doesn’t have a surname of course. Her regnal name is Queen Elizabeth the Second. Of course, Queen Elizabeth the First was called ‘Elizabeth of England’ until the second queen Elizabeth was crowned– now that there are two, she was retroactively renamed ‘the first’. Granted, it’s pretty much assumed that new monarchs will be ‘the first’ and they’re sometimes called that preemptively.”
This was making Harry’s head spin.
“Do they usually use their first name?” He asked desperately.
“Sure, unless you’re a Pope– then you can make it up completely. Wanna try Hadrian? Harold? Maybe you’d have some separation from your real name.”
“I’ll never escape being Harry Potter so long as I live.” Harry said dully. “I’ve come to terms with that at least.”
“I missed most of that.” Sirius said darkly. “Finding out from Mooney– a little from the papers and then the whole lot of it in person at Grimmauld, from the Order. It’s despicable.”
“Perhaps being king of your own continent– country, sorry, country–” Hermione ceded with a giggle at his flat look aimed her way– “Look, this is big, right? Maybe it’ll eclipse some of that boy-who-lived rot.”
“Maybe history books won’t even remember that part.” Harry said glumly, already knowing better than to hope. “King Harry of… whatever we name it… forget the chosen one thing.”
“Don’t count on it.” Sirius said sadly. “It seems… deeply engrained. But we can leave out that sick monicker when we teach history at our schools in our country.”
And then Harry and Hermione both had to sit back because it clicked that they were doing this. The provisionary document sat before him, awaiting a royal name, and then they’d have their own country.
With their own schools and laws.
Harry shook off the magnamity of it. One step at a time.
“I reserve the right to shred and re-sign exact duplicates of these if I change my name later.” Harry told the dverger chieftain.
“By all means.” He said, waving a hand negligently. “But you needn’t bother– legal documents signed with the Horde are ever-updating. If you got married and changed your last name, it would update. Things you’ve previously signed Harry Potter with us will change to Harry Potter-Black, and so on.”
“That’s useful.” Harry took up the quill– not a ceremonial thing like Lockhart had favored, but a simple cheap one, befitting the simple parchment they were using and the spare room they discussed it all in, secretly and informally until they were ready to reveal themselves to the world.
He hesitated and Hermione picked up a piece of scrap parchment, showing him the traditional way.
Harry R
He penned it, feeling silly. Not even King Harry I, or King Harry James Hyperion Potter-Black. Not even his last names!
“Well, if you don’t like it– you can make up a new way of signing it.” Sirius said easily enough. “This is just the English tradition. Not the tradition of… wherever nation we’re founding. Pottersville and all that rot.”
“We are not calling it ‘Pottersville’.” Hermione said immediately. “I mean– we’re not, right? Harry?”
He shook his head and she sighed.
“Right. Right. Of course not. That would be silly.” A little tiredness sounded in her voice. They’d been at this for at least an hour, but possibly much longer than that.
A wolf patronus came through, then, projecting Tonks’ voice for them to hear.
“Students safe. Minor injuries only. Ministry a shiteshow. Where are you?”
The three of them relaxed utterly. The others were safe.
“We can’t tell them where we are.” Harry realized suddenly. Hermione pressed her lips together tightly. “Right? The Order– Dumbledore– they’d try to stop us.”
“Too late for that.” Sirius rolled up the signed treaty and handed it to Chieftain Ksavir. “Can’t go back on our word.” He said cheerfully.
Harry laughed a little despite himself. It hadn’t begun to sink in that he wouldn’t be going back to Hogwarts, but he was already giddy at the thought of spending more time with Sirius. Anything was worth that.
“To that end,” The Chieftan said, standing up and cracking his back with a groan. “I think you’d best be off to your yet unnamed-country. We couldn’t build underground, but we’ve been letting our wardsmasters test out new configurations on the surface for centuries. It should be just about the most unplottable and secure location in the world.”
Which was why one of their main talking points had been provisions for the evacuation of the entire dverger nation to the tunnels they would build there in case of a large-scale emergency.
“But first, King Harry– the matter of your hand.” Worst was when it wasn’t a joke– when Chieftain Ksavir said the title it was with pure sincerity. “As clever as Essence of Murtlap was, even combined with Ditanny, it wasn’t enough, Miss Potter.”
“I understand.” Hermione said quietly. “Harry, the healing– we should get that done first thing. It’s already been ages.”
“I– okay.” Harry had resolved himself to live with the scars, but finding out there was something akin to a magical compulsion on him because of the words– “I must not tell lies” carved into the magic of his dominant wand-hand– had been horrifying. It was a miracle he could even try to lie now, and he’d really struggled with even basic diversions from the truth when they’d tested his ability.
“And while that’s happening, let’s you and I raid the Black vaults for camping gear.” Sirius slung an arm around Hermione’s shoulder, distracting her from worrying her bottom lip and stressing about Harry. “It sounds like we won’t see civilization again until we build one.”
Part 2
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