Chapter 44 (Part 1)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 rough 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 creating 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.

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.

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.

Harry gave a small look of approval as the ICW delegates and the goblin sat down, hiding his true, less than charitable, feelings.

That was a task made more difficult while under the effects of the Crown of Glory, but he could manage. As long as he kept hold on the sliver of Dark that sat in his mind like a block of ice, his ego would be held in check. Pride was nothing in the face of Dark.

The girls did not have that advantage.

Luna was the least affected thanks to her complete lack of conceit. While a bit more opinionated when under the effects of the Crown of Glory, she was still more pleasant than most people were normally. She would be a calming influence, as always.

Dora was more problematic. As playful as she could be, she was also a proud witch with a wicked temper that had been Mad-Eye Moody's protégé and joined the Auror Corps on her own merit. Normally a very easy-going sort, she was quick to take offense and lash out at any disrespect shown to her while under the Crown of Glory, as the Indian ICW representative had learned.

The worst of the four, Fleur was a serious problem. Prideful and vain as all veela were, the Crown of Glory turned her into a proper nightmare. She could barely tolerate the thought that there were wizards and witches that did not fawn over her. He and Luna were sitting on either side of her, using their own auras to sooth her. The only thing keeping her from flying into a rage at the thought that she needed to be kept in check was the fact that she herself had agreed to this measure before the Crown of Glory was cast and the very pride that fed her outrage would not allow her to break her word.

With all the problems that the Crown of Glory caused, one would be forgiven for thinking that it was more trouble than it was worth. For day-to-day use they'd be right, but for special occasions it was worth it.

Harry could already see the effects of the spell taking root in the visitors.

One of the most basic functions of any remotely sentient creature was threat assessment. A subset of this function was the assessment of one's own species to determine social pecking order, mating potential and countless other things. Humans were no different from any other animal in this. The conscious mind could override these instinctive impressions of course, but they would always be there.

All of the delegates aside from Dumbledore and Boneflay were showing the signs of knowing that they were in the presence of superior examples of their own species, although they were trying to hide it. Their instinct would be to submit rather than to fight and that was no small thing even if it was subconscious. This was compunded by the purely animal attraction that inevitably also appeared in such situations. Even if all these people were far past the point of being influenced by their hormones to any significant degree, the instinctive search for a worthy mate wasn't something that could be turned off.

The German, Hildebrand, was the weakest of the group and had already lost the game. His friendly demeanour was poorly suited for resisting the Crown of Glory even if he wasn't a spineless worm like Fudge. Fear of Harry himself and attraction to the girls would make him pliable.

Nayar was stronger, but was off balance and uncertain of himself due to the rebuke he'd received. He would not be eager to make another blunder. Harry felt oddly grateful for the misogyny in India that had allowed that faux pas to happen. It wasn't as bad as in the mundane part of its culture, but it was there.

Bit of an odd situation actually. Harry's plans to travel there had been scuppered by Voldemort's resurrection, so he didn't have first-hand knowledge but some things were easy enough to deduce even from less reliable sources. While he had no real idea what the situation on gender equality had been among India's magical population before the arrival of the European wizards and their 'our way is the only way' attitude, he did know that the heavy-handed approach of the ICW war wizards had left a big mess in the ancient nation. Similar to what had happened in America, quite a bit of the mundane parts of India's culture had bled through while the new order was being established, including a condescending attitude towards women if that hadn't been part of things already. That attitude persisted to this day, although time had blunted it somewhat as the world slowly moved past that bit of idiocy.

Admittedly, there was also the off chance that Nayar genuinely hadn't meant to imply that the girls were in any way inferior to him. Harry was speaking for the group after all and he had implied that he was the primary authority on the island in order to perpetuate the lie that it was an ancient holding of House Black. Plus, the man was an experienced politician and should know better. It didn't really matter, as Dora and Fleur were both seething with resentment about that little deception already, even if they had agreed to it beforehand. They were pretty much looking for an excuse to be angry.

Auger would be a more of a problem. His extreme age was actually an advantage in this case. Not only was his libido likely to be close to dead, but very old people also tended to have a very condescending view of those much younger than them. The latter was a problem with the others as well, but much more so with the French wizard. Still, neither age nor lack of libido would allow Auger to escape the effects of the Crown of Glory.

Winters would be the one with which the most care had to be taken. She was a powerful witch, with a presence nearly as profound as that of Amelia Bones, a particularly impressive feat for a politician even if her talents were less combative. Harry could also easily tell that her skill in Occlumency was the best of the delegation save for Dumbledore's. It would be unwise to rely on the Crown of Glory alone to get what he wanted from her.

Fortunately she was American. All of them might be dressed in the same ornate ceremonial robes worn by senior members of the ICW, but there was an almost palpable distance between Winters and the others. That could and would be exploited.

Although the fact that she was American could have unforeseen problems… That magical community was rather prudish and Harry got the feeling that Winters didn't approve of anything outside of a traditional, monogamous man-woman relationship. Still, she seemed smart enough to keep her opinions on that score to herself, so even if she was an uptight prude like he suspected she probably wouldn't let it affect her professionalism.

Boneflay was even more obviously a separate entity than Winters, but that was to be expected given that he was a goblin. The Crown of Glory wouldn't be effective on him, except maybe to broadcast that they were a dangerous threat if roused. Harry didn't know enough about the goblin psyche to really guess at any possible effects.

"So, what can Spellhaven do for the ICW?" Harry asked.

There was a brief, almost uncomfortable, pause before Dumbledore replied. "As you likely know, one of the ICW's duties is to mediate disputes between its constituents."

"Spellhaven is not an ICW constituent." Harry asserted calmly, undercutting whatever Dumbledore was about to say.

"Are you not a citizen of Magical Britain?" Hildebrand inquired in a tone of polite confusion.

Harry felt the two women flanking him bristle with indignant anger at the implication that only he mattered, even though that was the damn plan they had agreed to. He and Luna had to work hard to calm them down and it was likely that Hildebrand's sudden skittishness as he subconsciously registered the danger appeased them just as much if not more.

"That has no bearing on this discussion." He replied, keeping his own feelings tightly leashed. It was time for some lies. "This island was claimed by House Black in the early years of the 15th century, long before the founding of either the British Ministry of Magic or the Wizengamot. It was never part of Magical Britain's domain or that of any other, be it mundane or magical."

"But the Blacks are British magical nobility and one of the founding pillars of the British Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot." Hildebrand said with a frown. "Surely that makes Spellhaven beholden to the British Ministry of Magic?"

"I am afraid not." Dumbledore of all people countered. "The wording of the agreement specifically stated that only lands held on the British Isles would be part of Magical Britain's domain. Several other families have or used to have similar private retreats outside of Britain."

Harry knew that. It was the whole reason they were using this lie. He sometimes wondered how much of the world was hidden under privacy spells. Quite a lot of these old private retreats had been on the mainland and seized when the local wizards had formed their own governments, but some of them were probably still out there. Might be an interesting little mini quest to track these places down and take them for himself one day.

"A vacation home is one thing, but we are talking about hundreds of witches and wizards here." Auger protested.

"I fail to see how the number of residents matters." Harry replied with a careless shrug.

"It matters because all of those people are citizens of other magical nations and are now living permanently on your island." The French wizard insisted. "They cannot be left in some undefined legal limbo, so it is important that we determine under whose jurisdiction Spellhaven falls."

"That much is simple; it falls under our jurisdiction." Harry replied firmly.

His decision to say 'our' instead of 'my' as had been his first impulse was met with firm agreement by the girls and their combined conviction left Auger too intimidated to reply.

"Then it is your intention to declare the island of Spellhaven an independent magical realm?" Winters leaned forward slightly in her seat as she broke in, her ice-blue eyes gleaming with triumph.

Harry stared the American witch in the eye, wishing that he could drag her off somewhere and fuck that look off her face. Not even for her physical appeal, although Winters did look exceptional for a woman of her age, but simply for the pleasure of asserting his superiority over her.

Even though he was consciously aware that the desires currently percolating in his head were way past the border of socially acceptable behavior, he was finding it hard to care. One of the pitfalls of using a spell that made you feel like the most important thing ever when you already had a very low capacity for empathy. These impulses were familiar, they had been developing and evolving ever since the first time he had taken a knife to his flesh and permanently altered how his body worked. His testosterone levels, which he was sure were already obscenely high normally, must be completely through the roof right now.

Dora's hand tightened painfully on his own and her magic bristled dangerously against his senses. It irritated him to do so, but he complied with the warning and turned his thoughts elsewhere. All four of them had sworn that they would heed such warnings, their first experiment with the Crown of Glory demonstrating clearly that they couldn't trust their own judgement while under its effects.

Still, at least he had the satisfaction of seeing the sudden nervousness in the American witch's eyes.

But it was time to answer the question, not silently gloat. "Yes, that is exactly our intention."

It was a shame really. Harry had not wanted to do this, but politicians were always obsessed with a little thing called 'legitimacy', at least in public. It was such a stupid thing to his thinking, but giving Spellhaven status as a legitimate magical realm in its own right would make it more difficult for anyone looking to mount some kind of crusade against it.

Now it was just a matter of convincing this bunch that it was for the best, which was looking doable if the reactions from his guests were anything to go by…

Auger and Hildebrand more than a little displeased, Dumbledore was doing his serene omniscent act and Boneflay merely looked annoyed and impatient, which was the default setting for goblins from what he knew of them. Winters and even Nayar, on the other hand, were looking a bit smug. Definitely plotting something.

"This is absurd." Auger grumbled once he'd recovered the use of his wits. "Are we to allow anyone with a bit of land to their name to declare themselves an independent country now?"

"You don't have the authority to allow or deny anything in this matter." Harry retorted, his limited supply of patience exhausted by the French wizard's constant attempts at asserting some kind of authority over Spellhaven.

The very old man recoiled at the sharp rebuke and Harry knew that he had blundered even if that had been very satisfying. Narcissa had lectured him more than once that the one who initiated hostility was often the one on the losing end of a dipomatic discussion. Damage control it was then.

"Would you like to know why Spellhaven was made?" He asked.

They all looked varying levels of interested, except the goblin, who still looked grumpy and impatient.

"I don't like modern magical society, not in Britain and not anywhere else." He began. "All the bureaucracy, the laws, the regulations… I can't help but wonder, why are you trying so hard to take the magic out of magic?"

Now they all looked baffled, clearly not understanding what he was getting at. Typical politicians, although there was a glimmer of understanding and worry in Dumbledore's eyes.

"What do you mean?" Auger inquired, actually contriving to sound a bit offended. "We have always worked to preserve the magical world."

Clueless idiot missed the point completely, but Harry supposed that it was only to be expected. Old people were notoriously inflexible, even in their thoughts. Perhaps especially in their thoughts.

"Tell me why politicians impose so many restrictions on magic." Harry near-commanded, catching himself barely in time to make it seem at least vaguely like a request.

"To protect people." Auger said with a small frown, clearly unsure where this was going. "Some magics are harmful or simply not safe to use."

"Magic is not meant to be safe ." Harry replied with an annoyed sigh. "Magic is meant to be a thing of wonder and mystery that can and should kill you if approached carelessly. It should reward the exceptional, not give the mediocre an underserved sense of importance. Attempting to regulate it has created a society that treats magic like a commodity."

"What does this have to do with why you've created Spellhaven." Winters asked before anyone could offer a protest.

"It's quite simple really." Harry answered calmly. "I want you to know that I understand that the ultimate duty of government is ostensibly to protect the citizens under their purview and that lawmakers feel obligated to restrict the use of anything dangerous in pursuit of this goal. I understand that the average person craves stability and safety. I understand that powerful wizards and witches are a threat to that stability."

He paused for dramatic effect, momentarily reveling in their literally spellbound attention.

"I understand it, but I don't respect it. In my opinion, people could do with being a little less safe and a little more self-reliant. What is the point of even having magic if all the possibilities it offers are being controlled by petty bureaucrats? The magical world has become stagnant and dull because wizards that know nothing of magic are trying to control it. I will not be controlled."

Another dramatic pause and his audience was somewhat alarmed now. Excellent.

"Obviously, I don't fit in with the way things are done in this day and age. I tried politics back in Britain and found myself contemplating if becoming a dark lord was really such a bad idea. Because I am not an idiot, it was easy to deduce that it was, in fact, a bad idea and wouldn't get me what I want anyway, which brings us to Spellhaven."

That should serve as sufficient warning that provoking him would have unpleasant consequences. Dumbledore was certainly looking amusingly worried.

"Instead of complaining impotently or attempting to conquer a country to force my views on, the idea of Spellhaven was conceived. When we found this island, it was little more than a barren, uninhabitable hunk of volcanic rock that House Black had apparently deemed worthless and forgotten about centuries ago, but the four of us saw the potential in it. Our business ventures were growing at an exponential rate, so much so that we were running into logistical issues with the number of employees and their families suddenly in our care. Not only that, but we were also having more trouble abiding by Magical Britain's laws by the day. A large private island was an ideal solution to both problems. The immmigration requests from others came as a surprise, but we had no cause to refuse them."

Harry paused again and briefly ran his eyes over the delegates. "In short, Spellhaven was made to accomodate our growing business empire and more importantly, to remove ourselves from a society that would have branded me at the very least a dark wizard before long."

"Was it really so terrible, Harry?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"Yes." He answered simply. "You of all people should know what it's like to be a powerful wizard surrounded by mediocrity. Spellhaven is our sanctuary just like Hogwarts is yours and outside interference would run counter to its purpose."

Harry had initially wanted to avoid making these sorts of implied threats, but no matter how he looked at it, they'd never be left in peace without them. Politicians were simply too dumb to leave well enough alone. That was also one of the reasons why the Crown of Glory was being used.

Once again, he had the full support and agreement of all three girls. Their combined strength smothered the room, causing Dumbledore's eyes to go wide and the others to suddenly give off the impression of frightened deer.

"Albus, what does he mean?" Hildebrand asked, his tone hushed, wary and confused.

"It is difficult for the powerful to accept the authority of others." Dumbledore answered softly and looked over at the four of them. "Some cannot tolerate it at all."

And that really was the crux of it. Harry had never been able to fit in with his classmates in Hogwarts because he was so much more than them and he knew it. He couldn't conform to a society of wizards and witches content to wallow in their mediocrity when he could literally feel how inferior they were to him.

That was part of the price that the powerful paid for their strength. It was so very hard pretend you weren't chafed by the limitations that the fearful, the weak and the ignorant would place on you and it kept getting harder as your strength grew while everyone else stayed stagnant.

Harry didn't believe that power corrupted so much as it liberated, but a person that felt free to act without fear of consequences was no less frightening than a corrupt one.

Magic exacerbated the problem exponentially. After all, why should a powerful wizard conform if he felt strong enough to challenge the government all by himself? Harry had seen it in himself, in the way he felt less and less need to be subtle when he could simply command and be obeyed instead. He had seen it in his girls as they shrugged off the limitations of society and it was beautiful to watch happen.

But it was a problem. A flock of sheep could never rest easy with a pack of wolves among them, even if the wolves weren't hungry.

Dumbledore had experienced it decades ago. People had feared him as much as they revered him and dealt with it by heaping all sorts of honors and responsibilities on him, desperately trying to make him one of 'them'. The sheep probably didn't even realise what they were doing, probably didn't even realise that they were afraid. Nowadays the old man spent his time hiding in Hogwarts and only leaving it when he really had to.

Better to make their own place in the world than wait for it all to go pear-shaped. Most dark lords or dark ladies weren't psychopaths, but simply wizards and witches that had outgrown the system they were born into. True, they usually broke the law or went against social norms, but so what? It was a good bet that less than a quarter of history's dark lords were actually psychos like Voldemort, with the others just labeled that way to justify getting rid of them when they started doing their own thing.

He was brought out of his brief period of wool-gathering when Auger spoke up again.

"What about your seats on the British Wizengamot and the lordship of the Potter and Black families?" he asked. "You cannot be part of Magical Britain's judicial system if your loyalties are to Spellhaven."

That was almost true.

"If the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot require me to choose between the two, then the Houses of Potter and Black will go into dormancy until one of my descendants decides to take up their mantle again."

Harry didn't really expect that to happen. Fudge and the worms in the Wizengamot would probably enjoy the reflected glory too much unless he started using those positions as leverage to make Magical Britain act in Spellhaven's benefit.

Auger looked unhappy at the reply but grundgingly conceded defeat. "I suppose we could acknowledge Spellhaven as a separate entity under the ICW and its guidelines."

Harry's temper flared again. The old fucker clearly had selective hearing.

"What makes you think we want to be part of the ICW?" He asked as neutrally as he could manage, but the room temperature still plummeted noticeably.

"But…" Auger spluttered, either from surprise at the rebuttal or from the effects of the Crown of Glory.

"Harry, the ICW would not infringe on how you run things on Spellhaven." Dumbledore came to the rescue. "it is merely an organisation that promotes cooperation between the world's magical nations. Surely you agree that it is better to work together than to isolate ourselves?"

Harry pretended to think it over. In truth, he'd known that he couldn't just tell the ICW to fuck off and leave them alone. Spellhaven didn't exist in a vacuum and he couldn't act like it did, not without causing himself an unacceptable amount of trouble later on at any rate.

But he had to be obstinate about it to make it clear that the ICW would have no say in Spellhaven's internal affairs, which was no doubt what Hildebrand and Auger - and probably the goblin too now that he thought about it - wanted. Unlike its mundane counterpart, the UN, the ICW had a lot more power over its constituents. Not official power, but it could exert significant pressure indirectly.

"Before anything more is said on this matter, I will remind you once more why Spellhaven was made - a place where magic may be practiced without the constraints of law. There are no restriction on what kind of magic may be used here, up to and including the Unforgivables or anything else that might be deemed illegal elsewhere. Similarly, there is no such thing as illegal enchantments or banned magical items. Anything may be made and sold here. Anyone stirring trouble or doing harm to the people living here will be dealt with, but for the harm itself and not because of the means that were used to do it. Any dabbling in things that could cause harm to more than just the dabbler will be monitored of course, but we will not protect people from their own carelessness. On this point, we will not be moved."

Harry once again enjoyed the full support of his girls and together they made any protest from the delegation die stillborn, their combined strength far too great to be contested.

"That sounds fair." Winters said while Hildebrand and Auger were furiously thinking of a way to respond that didn't involve actually crossing the line in the sand he'd just drawn. "And I am certain that my counterpart from South America will agree."

"Spellhaven is of your making and the ICW has no right to dictate how you run it." Nayar added with a smile.

"I find myself in agreement with my colleagues." Dumbledore said, ignoring the betrayed looks from Auger and Hildebrand. "Much as I worry about the results your policies might bring, it cannot be denied that this is your place and the people are here of their own free will. Do you perhaps already have someone in mind to represent Spellhaven in the ICW?"

Will wonders never cease, Dumbledore had learned how to tone down the condescension? Maybe the chewing out he'd received the last time he'd been on Spellhaven had gotten through to him.

"I do." Harry nodded. "Narcissa Black has proven herself well suited to the task and is trusted to act as our voice."

Narcissa would be thrilled by the appointment no doubt, even if 'Mugwump Black' sounded unforgivably stupid. She had acquited herself well back in Britain, handling the vast majority of the background maneuvering that he didn't have the patience for, as well as handling the fallout of their departure from that country.

But her skills had been a bit under-utilised lately. Spellhaven required much less politicking than Britain and Harry knew that Narcissa missed playing those games. Giving her a position where she could do her thing on the international stage should be right up her alley and she'd be looking out for his interests while doing it.

Yes, Narcissa was a good choice for the job. Inexperienced in international politics, but she undoubtedly had more raw talent for it then he ever would. She'd learn quickly and had access to enough money to buy herself a tutor or assisstant if she felt the need. Harry was kind of looking forward to fucking her in one of those silly ornate robes.

"Very well." Dumbledore nodded. "Then all that remains is for you to sign the ICW charter."

"And here we encounter a problem." Harry said mildly. "You see, signing the ICW charter as it is now would immediately infringe on Spellhaven's internal affairs and violate the terms of the agreement we just made."

"How so?" Dumbledore asked cordially.

"The treaty signed in 1726 between the Goblin Nation and the International Confederation of Wizards is part of the charter and stipulates that the Goblin Nation will maintain a branch of Gringotts Bank in every ICW member nation, both as a financial institution and as an embassy."

Harry paused for a moment, taking note of Boneflay's rising fury. Oh yes, the silly little midget knew what was coming.

"Goblins maintain that any land upon which a branch of Gringotts sits is sovereign territory of the Goblin Nation. This is unacceptable. All land on Spellhaven belongs to us and we will not give even a fistful of it to the goblins."

"Harry, embassies are necessary for maintaining diplomatic contact between nations." Dumbledore attempted to mediate before Boneflay could say something rash.

"Embassies do not require the land they sit on to be given over to the guest nation." Winters torpedoed the Supreme Mugwump's efforts.

"That would subject my people to the laws of wizards!" Boneflay retorted. "No goblin will ever tolerate that."

"Then stay in your holes and stop bothering us." Winters shot back.

"Watch yourself, witch ." The goblin growled threateningly.

"Negotiator Boneflay." Harry said so coldly that a literal chill breeze passed through the room. "I will remind you that Mugwump Winters is a guest in our home and we are obligated to protect her from both harm and insult. Mind your tone."

"Typical wizard." Boneflay said bitterly. "You say nothing when she insults my people but jump to her defense in an instant."

"It was you who refused our hospitality." Harry shot him down icily. "Do not complain about not having it now."

"Perhaps we should get back to the matter at hand?" Dumbledore suggested diplomatically, clearly wanting to move past this.

"Yes, we should." Harry nodded. "In addition to not allowing a goblin presence on the island, we will also not give Gringotts Bank exclusive rights to the management of Spellhaven's finances."

"You may say that, but you are still citizens of Magical Britain and Magical France." Boneflay interjected with a malicious grin.

"What's your point?" Harry asked in a bored tone that clearly projected just how few shits he gave.

"You are still bound by treaty to conduct your finances exclusively through Gringotts, a treaty that you have been violating for months now." The goblin growled.

"Untrue. All of our business ventures are based on Spellhaven, which is not bound by that treaty and therefore cannot be in violation of it."

"That is nothing but a technicality!" Boneflay snapped.

"What is a treaty if not a list of technicalities?" Harry responded whimsically, enjoying the cement mixer sound of fury that the goblin made in response.

"Perhaps we could make some kind of compromise?" Hildebrand asked hopefully.

Harry was fed up with this conversation.

"That I am even entertaining the idea of associating Spellhaven with the ICW is already a compromise and it took a great deal of effort to convince me to do even that much." He said firmly. "I have named my terms and will not be swayed from them. Either accept them or do not."

"Lord Potter has shown nothing but grace and honor in removing himself from a situation that he knew would eventually put him at odds with his homeland's laws." Winters spoke up after a moment. "The magi of North and South America will accept those terms."

"As will the wizards and witches of India." Nayar added.

Harry acknowledged their support with a nod. Of course, he didn't delude himself into thinking that they were supporting his position because they thought it was the right thing to do. No, they were doing it because it would benefit their respective nations.

What a pain… He wished he could just kill them all and be done with it. Yet more proof that most dark lords simply had enough of dealing with other people's shit rather than being 'evil'.

Maybe a few years or decades down the line, he'd have a good excuse to destroy the ICW?

The thought of casting Abi-Dalzim's Horrid Wilting in a room full of politicians cheered him up.

Auger and Hildebrand looked uncomfortable, but didn't seem eager to voice their opposition. Score one for the Crown of Glory.

"We will of course need to bring this before the full assembly of mugwumps before a decision is made." Dumbledore sounded tired.

"Gringotts will never support this!" Boneflay snarled and stomped out of the room.

Fucking goblins.

"Before you go, there is one more thing I feel I should mention." Harry said before the others could get up.

They all looked at him curiously.

"No doubt you are all aware of Britain's little Dark Lord problem recently." He said, getting bemused nods from everyone except Dumbledore. "After we gave him a bloody nose back in August, Voldemort has been recruiting heavily across various locales all over Europe. I have so far spied his followers in several locations across Europe."

"How?" Auger asked with a faintly accusatory tone.

"I have my ways." Harry replied unhelpfully. "My point is that he will eventually stop recruiting and restart his attempts to conquer the world. Since we are to be allies, we are offering to take care of Voldemort for the ICW."

The original plan may have been to essentially blackmail the ICW with the threat of Voldemort, but blackmail only worked as long as you had it. Frame it as one ally helping another though… well, it wouldn't look good if you turned on someone that handled a dark lord for you now would it?

Of course, none of them would believe that he was actually doing it out of the goodness of his heart, but that didn't matter. It was all about appearances.

Fucking politics.

"That is most gracious of you." Dumbledore said with a commendably straight face. The old man knew better than anyone that he wasn't doing it for free. "What can the ICW do to help you in this?"

"Mostly we'd just need official sanction to act within the borders of whatever country Voldemort and his minions are in." Harry answered.

"Is that really necessary?" Auger asked skeptically. "Surely our Aurors could handle it."

Harry resisted the urge to snort. Fleur and Dora didn't.

At a certain level of power, even weight of numbers didn't work anymore. There were only so many wizards that could fight together against one without getting in each other's way.

"No, Gaston, I am afraid that the Aurors could not match the likes of Voldemort." Dumbledore answered solemnly. "Even I am not certain if I could win against him now. Harry may be the only wizard currently alive that is able to defeat him."

With the Crown of Glory inflating his ego, Harry merely nodded at this. It sounded like the truth, even though he was intellectually aware that he was likely not on even footing with Voldemort as far as combat was concerned.

"I will pass it along to my government." Auger said a bit stiffly.

The others said much the same and then got up.

Winters and Nayar both requested to speak further on matters of trade at a later date during the walk outside, which Harry knew was going to be the manner of payment for their support. That was fine, it wasn't like money was going to be an issue for much longer with a Philosopher's Stone in the near future.

Once they were all gone, the four of them dispersed without so much as looking at each other.

They had learned their lesson about that the first time they'd used the Crown of Glory. It was manageable as long as they had an outside enemy to focus on, but without it… well, Harry and Fleur had both been hatching plans on fucking the other three into submission whether they were willing or not, which would have spurred Dora into potentially lethal retaliation.

Luna had doused them all with freezing cold water and shooed them off, which had probably saved their relationship and maybe even a few lives.

After that near disaster, they had all agreed to find their own ways to blow off steam while the Crown of Glory's side-effects wore off.

Harry was fortunate in that he knew a woman that wouldn't mind if he was more forceful than normal. Indeed, she actually enjoyed it.

Septima braced herself on shaky arms as Harry thrust into her arse with an almost violent energy. Her breath came in pants and her whole body glowed with a sheen of sweat that gave mute testimony to her exhaustion. The only thing keeping her from collapsing face first into the bed was the collar around her neck, the chain of which was pulled taut in Harry's fist and had no give in it.

He had stormed into her office earlier in the day with the kind of look on his face that instantly had her gushing like a fountain. When he'd wordlessly grabbed her and apparated them to a bedroom, she'd already been halfway to orgasm.

That was an indeterminate number of hours ago and Harry had since then used her body like he owned it. Septima had enjoyed every second of it of course, but she didn't know if she could take much more of this.

"Are you dozing off down there, slut?" Harry demanded, punctuating his question with a hard slap to her left buttock.

Septima cried out at the sudden stinging pain.

Another slap came when she didn't answer immediately. "I asked you a question!"

"No!" Septima quickly assured, even though the pain felt good. She was far too tired to be deliberately disobedient in the hopes of getting punished some more.

"Then why does it feel like I'm fucking a cave back here?" Another slap accompanied the question. "I told you to keep your arse clenched tight!"

"I'm sorry. I can't!" Septima cried out apologetically. She really wanted to obey, but she was shaking with just the effort of staying on her elbows and knees, nevermind keeping her bowels clenched so that Harry could properly enjoy her.

The chain of her collar was pulled, forcing her upright on her knees. The collar was enchanted to distribute the force evenly around its circumference, so instead of digging into her throat, it merely tightened for the most part even as she was dragged back. Her vision swam as her breathing and blood flow was restricted.

Then Harry stuck the middle and ring finger of his left hand into her soaking sex and used the new handhold to keep her upright so that he didn't lose access to her arse.

"I didn't ask if you can, I told you to do it." He said directly into her ear, now penetrating both of her holes.

Septima obeyed without thought, struggling to clench her pelvic muscles as hard as she could despite the way her body was shaking from exhaustion. She was feeling quite loopy from both the rapid approach of another orgasm at the rough treatment and the constricting effects of the collar.

"That's better." Harry grunted into her ear, increasing the pace of his thrusting. "Just keep that up."

Knowing that he was close and wanting to experience release with him, Septima pinched her own nipples harshly and gave a shudddering cry as the pain set off her orgasm. The sensation was made even better when Harry grunted in pleasure and started filling up her bowels with his seed.

The fingers were removed and the collar loosened around her neck, sending a disorienting rush of blood to her brain and allowing Septima to collapse with a gasp of relief. She paid no mind to Harry's manhood as it easily slipped out of her ravaged anus, and dearly hoped that he didn't want to go again, because she was done .

Two fingers were pressed against her mouth and Septima started sucking on them automatically, tasting both herself and a trace of one of Harry's previous releases on them.

Once they were clean, he separated from her and laid down on the bed, tugging gently on her collar as he did so. Knowing what that meant, Septima smiled tiredly and turned to clean his member with her mouth. The submissive post-coital ritual marked the end of playtime and she performed it with more enthusiasm than usual, eager to get some rest.

"You alright?" Harry asked when she settled against him after finishing.

"More than alright." Septima groaned, stretching out her tired limbs. Her whole body ached and hurt in all the right ways and there was a steady trickle of Harry's warm seed oozing out of her arse. It didn't get much better. "What is going on with you lately? This is the third time in the past two weeks that you've fucked me like you had something to prove and it was even worse this time. If this keeps up I'll end up permanently bowlegged."

Harry had always been so wonderfully dominant and overpowering, but these last three times she had seriously questioned if he would heed the safeword if she used it. Strangely enough, his unusual aggression would gradually bleed off while he was fucking her until he was back to normal.

"Let's just say that you've been the beneficiary of some magical experimentation." Harry chuckled.

Septima didn't ask, knowing that he wouldn't elaborate, and they lapsed into silence. The only sound was the occasional clink of her collar's chain as Harry absently tugged on it, which made her smile.

She loved the collar and lived in a mix of dread and eager anticipation of the day that Harry would order her to wear it in public. He hadn't so far, which was both a relief and a disappointment.

"I hear you've got yourself an admirer." Harry said casually a few minutes later.

Septima wasn't at all surprised that he knew about the man that had become sweet on her recently. He seemed to know everything these days.

"Mhm." Was her only reply, too pleasantly lethargic to really bother thinking of the mid-thirties wizard trying to woo her.

"Not interested?" Harry chuckled again.

"He's nice enough, I suppose."

"But?"

"But nice is boring."

She'd had a nice boyfriend once. A Hufflepuff in the same year as her. He'd been so awkward and shy when he'd asked her to go to Hogsmeade with him in their seventh year and she'd been so flattered that someone had actually asked bookish, unnoticeable Septima Vector for a date…

Their relationship had been very… safe, with not much drama or excitement. It hadn't been passionate or in hindsight even all that deep. If he hadn't been killed by Death Eaters, they'd probably have naturally progressed towards marriage simply because that was how things were done.

A husband and children would have been nice, but life was messy and stressful and Septima had never felt more relaxed or free than when she relinquished control to Harry. Marriage to a man that couldn't give her that would always have been mediocre at best, even if she never realised what she actually wanted. She felt a bit guilty sometimes for thinking that those Death Eaters had done her a favor.

"You never know, he might have hidden depths." Harry said idly.

Septima raised her head to look into his brilliant emerald eyes. "Are you trying to get rid of me, Harry?" She asked, keeping her tone light even though she was actually worried.

"Not at all." He replied, giving her collar a slightly harder tug. "I'm just saying that you don't have to hold back from exploring other possibilities on my account."

Reassured, she laid her head back on his chest and chuckled. "Even if I wanted to give him a chance, I doubt he'd be fine with me being your mistress while we were getting to know each other."

"Yes, that could be awkward." Harry was also amused.

Septima chuckled again. Talk about understating it.

"Did you ever have any trouble from your girls over having mistresses?" She asked curiously after a few seconds of silence.

"Not really." He replied lightly, absently tugging on her collar again. "Luna doesn't have a jealous bone in her body and Fleur is a veela, they don't consider sex any more scandalous than hugging. As for Dora… well, she wasn't exactly happy about it, but she came into the relationship late and didn't really have any room to complain."

"Strange that she would get into a relationship like that in the first place then." Septima commented.

"Fleur spent quite a while softening her up before she did. Besides, you know that no woman can resist once they've had a taste of my magic cock." He declared pompously.

Septima dissolved into helpless giggles at the ridiculous statement. Although it was indeed a very impressive piece of male endowment…

Alright, so maybe there was some truth to Harry's words.

"Do you think your girlfriends would mind if you gave me another taste then?" She asked suggestively, already sliding down his body.

"Not at all, they're doing their own thing right now actually…"

Luna walked through the forest, hand in hand with Marae.

It was always nice to spend time with the towering dryad after wearing the Crown of Glory. She was much less aggravating than humans.

Luna didn't like feeling aggravated, by her lovers least of all.

A fairy landed on one of Marae's leaking breasts and drank some of her nectar before buzzing off in a distinctly inebriated fashion.

Luna giggled at the sight and the forest giggled with her as Marae shared her amusement.

Tonks breathed in deep of the thin air, floating above the clouds without the aid of a broom or flying carpet.

Harry had reverse engineered Voldemort's flying spell some time ago and taught it to them.

Harry and his endless supply of magic tricks, some amazing and some horrible.

The Crown of Glory was definitely horrible.

Tonks had spent nearly two hours beating the stuffing out of a punching bag to vent her aggression. Then she'd called up one of those veela masseusses that were always so eager to come over. That had been nice and relaxing, as had getting her peach eaten by the same masseusse afterwards.

Now she was here, watching the sunset from above the clouds, more than six thousand meters above sea level. Good thing she was a witch and had warming charms, or it would have been bloody cold up here.

She was starting to see why Harry liked coming either up here or standing at the top of his tower. It was very peaceful and detached from the world.

Fleur sighed contently, snuggling up to her sister. Gabrielle was twelve years old now and had started puberty. Puberty for a veela meant sex with an older, more experienced veela to get the hang of her nature and awoken instincts.

Fleur had insisted that she would be the one to teach Gabby, even if the custom was usually to let someone outside the immediate family do it as a way of fostering friendships.

Having a young, biddable bed partner had been exactly what Fleur needed to shake off the Crown of Glory's less pleasant effects. She still had the occasional flash of dread at how close they had come to ruining everything because of that horrible spell.

In some ways, Fleur resented the ICW even more than Harry did because of that. The four of them had carved out this slice of paradise for themselves, what business did a bunch of greedy politicians have trying to stick their noses into it, forcing them to go that far to defend it?

If Harry ever decided that the ICW needed to burn, Fleur would be the first to set it on fire.

"Fleur?" Gabrielle spoke up, fidgeting a little.

"Yes, what is it?" Fleur asked, shifting her young sister around so that they could look at each other.

"Do you think Harry would have sex with me?" She asked nervously.

Fleur had been expecting this. Gabby had gotten over the scare Harry had given her when he'd killed Lucius Malfoy and was now experiencing the typical veela reaction to a powerful wizard.

"I will ask, but I can't make any promises." Fleur said. "You know how silly humans are about sex."

If it was just Harry, he could probably be reasoned with and convinced that there was nothing wrong with sleeping with a twelve-year-old veela as long as he was gentle about it. Nymmie though…

Well, the metamorphmagus was less reasonable and more emotional about these things, not to mention attached to her little foibles. She would protest.

Still, she wouldn't trade any of her human lovers for anything, no matter how silly they could be.

Things settled down a bit after the meeting with the ICW delegation. Sort of.

The news that Harry Potter was permanently and officially moving out of Britain was met with a general sense of disbelief, loss, indignation and some fear from the magical population of that country. Fudge was especially filled with fear at having his most powerful supporter suddenly strike out on his own.

Amelia Bones was one of the rare few that was relieved. While he had done a great deal of good from her perspective and even gave her a measure of revenge for the murder of her family, he had still been a loose cannon that she had no real way of containing.

His terms for entry into the ICW were accepted after a solid week of arguing, largely due to the support of Dumbledore and several others that thought to benefit from the newly established realm. The representative from the Goblin Nation kicked up a huge fuss about it, but didn't achieve much as the goblins had no actual vote on the matter. Relations between goblins and wizards did sour further though.

Narcissa was named to the Council of Mugwumps, much to her pleasure. It was still a damn stupid name as far as Harry was concerned, but she was happy with it.

Dumbledore showed up again a day after that was done, to talk about the fight against Voldemort. As was usual for the old wizard, he wanted to keep the damage as low as possible.

Harry agreed with him about keeping the damage as low as possible, but his method of doing that was by causing so much damage to the other side that it wouldn't be capable of doing any of its own.

Dumbledore wasn't particularly happy about that plan, but couldn't dispute that it would be better for Voldemort and the Death Eaters to be hurt rather than non-combatants, nor was he allowed to forget that it wasn't for him to decide how the war would be pursued. That was why he eventually relented and used his considerable political influence to get Harry and the girls the sanction to act against the Dark Lord anywhere.

That took weeks of negotiation to achieve and the end result was more tame than Harry would have liked. They needed to inform the head of the DMLE in the relevant country, had to be accompanied by a force of local Aurors on any raids, had limits on how much force they could use and worst of all, could not unilaterally take custody of everyone they captured, aside from the British Death Eaters.

Harry wasn't happy about that, but at least Bellatrix was still his if anyone caught her. Not that he knew where she was.

In preparation for the renewal of hostilities, Harry spent much of his energy during that time searching for targets. In addition to Romania, he had detected a Death Eater presence in Bulgaria, Spain, Italy and Poland.

The time inevitably came to act on that information…