Chapter 4

The Queen, Magic, and Mundane Science

Harry quickly emerged from the Magical Ministry by porting to the roof. Seeing the windy and cold weather London was graced with, he changed to a fat Polar Bear before porting from roof to roof toward Grimeault Place. A hop to see his Godfather was not amiss. After all it was still very early in the morning, London time. Why not prank Sirius Black? It was payback time for having brought on his shoulders the Crown of the Elves and Magic. He thought roof-hopping would make the mundanes unaware of his passage. How wrong could someone be! Less than five minutes after beginning his trek the Metropolitan Police was informed of a bear on a roof. As the reports repeated themselves, the Police began taking them seriously. As they knew where the Ministry for Magic building was located, and the first report had originated from close to it, they quickly drew a line and checked where it led: Grimeault Place, where one of the Lords of the Magical Real has its residence, one of the Pillars of the Kingdom. Alerts rang out, and quickly, a defensive perimeter was set around the target, roofs were occupied, and every member of the Royal Magical Marines was mobilized!

Harry first noticed the deployment of troops some ten miles off his Godfather’s home. Realizing quickly that the direct line approach was no longer possible, not that he could not just flash to Grimeault Place and be done with it, he decided to play Cat and Mouse, he being, for the occasion, the Mouse, just for once.

He ran down the spine of a roof, very visible in his Bear form, jumped from one side of a back alley to land as Squirrel on the other side. The sudden disappearance of the Bear made the Royal Marines really nervous and pushed their intervention protocols several notches up. Meanwhile, Harry used the rain gutter to progress further, jumped on a power line, and used it to quickly progress beyond the first line of protection. He climbed up a brick wall and used the power inlet to reach the next roof line. Happy at having passed through the line, he returned to his Arctic Bear form, surprising the marines that were trying to locate him near his last visible position. A rapid redeployment of the Marines tripled the secondary defense line, much to Harry’s amusement.

Getting close to the next line, he changed form again into a small rodent as he passed near a chimney stack, and made his way in plain view of the Marine occupying a defensive position on the roof, Passing between the man’s legs, he suddenly changed back to his White Bear form, lifting the man on his back and shocking him.

“Let me down! Let me down!” hollered the terrorized man.

Nearing the end of the row of houses, Harry returned to a Rat form, leaving the Marine to enjoy a slide on the crest of the roof tiles. He jumped into space, took the form of a Sparrow, flew across the next row of houses, briefly reappeared as a White Bear to give the Marines a moving target just for the fun of it, changed again to become a giant Spider that appeared to swing along a huge silk thread, shocking the Magical Marines as they easily recognized one of the feared giant Acromantulas.

“Damn it! There is an Acromantula in London! Call in the Magical Pest Control. If there is one, there are bound to be others!” ordered the Magical Marines Captain, as he freaked out. He, like many, had nightmares from his visits into the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts.

Meanwhile, Harry was getting near the last protection of Marines before Grimeault Place. He was getting bored and decided to do the last one hundred yards at street level. Gliding from the crest of the last house in the townhouse row, he gracefully landed and changed into a Wolf for the exercise. Unfortunately, a mundane saw the bird glide, land, and then change into a Monster Wolf, not that Harry was a big Wolf in his natural form, being still a pup, and he had not put much thought into increasing his size for a battle. It was the rather loud and hysterical, window-shattering shout of ‘Wolf! Wolf!” that cottoned Harry that things might not go as planned! He took to a run, turned on Grimeault Place and made a mad dash for the stairs of the missing number twelve. As the woman continued to cry wolf, he suddenly disappeared from view as he passed the wards. The cries of the mundane redoubled: she had seen the ghost of a wolf!

The cries of the frantic lady caught the attention of one of the Magical Marines patrols that had been called to intercept the interloper. It took the Sergeant a good ten minutes to extract the information from the completely disconnected blabbering of the mundane, and by then Harry had long entered Sirius’ home and made himself comfortable, watched the events from one of the upper windows of the facade, in company of the House Elf. Both were laughing hysterically at the events, much to the annoyance of the portrait of one Mistress Welburga Black. It was only Harry’s explanations that made the old hag see the fun in the events and she too chuckled, much to her own surprise.

They watched the Sergeant as he tried to find Number Twelve, but, not having been put in the confidence of the Fidelius wards, the wards kept him missing the door and steps. Ah, the pleasures of that spell! Kreacher had not laughed so much in years.

“So, Kreacher, my Godfather is not home, you said earlier. Do you know where he is?”

“There was a rumor concerning some... that did not believe to the return of Camelot’s laws and were trying to disprove Magic’s existence. He and Lord Longbottom decided to put their skepticism to the test.”

The fact that Kreacher did not qualify the skeptics with his usual vitriolic discourse did not escape Harry, whom was grateful for the change in the House Elf. It seemed removing the necklace containing Voldemort’s soul shard had helped considerably in improving the Elf’s mood.

“Okay... I think I know exactly what will put an end to that pile of crap.” Harry extended his magical sense and located the two he was looking for in the department of Physics, near the small breeder reactor used for research. He ported in the hall with a brilliant flash of light as an Ice Phoenix, and landed on the lectern of the current speaker, one Sylvester Humbug, currently holder of the chair of Quantum Physics.

Lord Frank Longbottom, Lord Sirius Black, and Lady Narcissa Malfoy looked at each other, wondering why a Phoenix had deigned visit the place of learning until Sirius remembered his Godson was a multi - animagus and that he had, amongst other things, the whole collection of Phoenix variants to choose from.

“Harry? What are you doing here? Is something wrong at home?” asked a worried Sirius.

Harry decided to change form and took the shape of a domestic Feline, mind you a fifty-pound Norwegian Forest Cat, and he growled as the lectern crashed under his weight. He slammed his right forepaw at the offending tool of any conference Speaker and sent the bits flying in all directions.

“Calm down, Harry. Just port to leave the shards of wood behind. Or better still, become a Phoenix again and burn them to ash!”

Harry did just that, becoming a Phoenix to flash right across the podium and return to his Feline form, leaving behind smoking bits of wood.

“What is this disturbance?” said an offended Humbug, as he picked up his speech from the floor and tried to put them in order. After all, he had a triplet of freaks to debunk!

“That, Sir, is Magic at work, in the form of an animagus, namely, my Godson, whom took the form of a Phoenix to reach us in this place, changed form three times in front of you, and thus clearly demonstrated we are not mentally ill. I would suggest you refrain from misspeaking in the presence of the King of Magic, my Godson, Heir of Elrond of the High Elves, of Merlin and of ten of the twelve seats of Power of the Round Table of Camelot, just to name a few titles. He has more power in one of his non-existent pubic hairs than the entire non-magical world has with all its weapons of mass destruction combined. Luckily, he is caring and protective, otherwise we would be in for a world of hurt.”

“Why do you say he has no pubic hair?”

“He roams the world nude, and it hard to miss he is as bald down there as a billiard ball. He is nature incarnate, and nature knows not of prudery and shame of oneself. And he is what, eleven and a half now, so he surely is not expected to show the first signs of puberty!”

“I do not believe that Chicken can be anything but a roast in the waiting, if not a flat out lie!”

Harry was getting furious and the swinging tail told anyone knowledgeable in Feline behavior that Mister Humbug had pissed it off royally.

“Harry, calm down. We need him alive... and in one piece preferably!”

“Stop talking to that future spare ribs plate as if it could understand you! You are making ridiculous statements! It is an illusion, nothing more, a play with mirrors!”

Harry had enough, growled once and launched himself at the offending Speaker, landing on his front right pectoral and letting his fifty pounds carry him down, four-inch claws fully extended, shredding skin and clothes indifferently!

At first, the Speaker was too shocked to register the pain, but it gradually reached his pain nuclei, and finally his conscience. He looked down and saw his black robe shredded right to the floor, strips of tissues flying around from the force-air ventilation, and then he noticed that the robe was getting darker, and he smelled something similar to wet rust... blood! His blood! His Sacred Blood!

“Shoot that monstrosity!”

“You can not shoot an illusion,” said Lord Longbottom.

“And therefore, your pain must also be illusory!” added Lady Malfoy.

“I need medical attention!”

“Yes, of a psychiatrist, most definitely, since you believe in illusions!” added Sirius, snickering!

The Faculty members were shocked and stunned to silence and inaction. Not a single one moved to assist one Sylvester Humbug!

Harry prowled the podium like a Lioness on the hunting path, his claws digging in the hard wood of the podium’s floor. It was clear the pretentious faculty member was a potential meal! What kept Mister Humbug sane was that the Feline was too small to eat him... or so he thought. Harry had been reading the mind of the Professor, and looking directly at his eyes, changed shape once again, into a fully mature Saber Tooth Tiger, and he let out a growl that made most observers pee their robes, and Mister Humbug to lose control of his bodily functions.

Satisfied at the result, Harry changed to his Human form after jumping over the prostrate Chair, making the man yell in abject terror!

“And this is what happens to those who doubt me!” Harry said, in a calm and icy voice that produced a miniature blizzard in the venerable Hall. “Guys, I am hungry, and that guy would cause me a cholesterol episode should I consent to eat him steak tartar. Let us go to Buckingham Palace. I have some questions to ask the Queen.”

“About?”

“Oh, there is a guy here that studies time and matter. I just hope it is not him!” Harry said as he pointed a thumb at the quivering mass of Sylvester Humbug. “Otherwise, I will go to the United States!”

A robotic voice was heard from the front row. “It must be me you are looking for, young man.”

Harry turned to look more attentively at the collection of black robes and noticed a man in a wheelchair that seemed to be only able to move his eyes, and with a computer screen tied to it. Deciding the inhumane, metallic voice was from the chair-bond person, Harry moved to him.

“And whom might you be, kind sir? It is rare I am called man; more often than not, I am ignored, which does have its advantages, or seen as a monster to kill on sight.”

“Stephan Hawking, at your service.”

I need someone to help me understand inter-dimensional boundaries. I figured astrophysicists specializing in Black Holes would bet the best to address my concerns.”

“Concerns?”

“Well, yes, I need to err, adjust... the boundary between the universe that contains most of the magical life, which I dubbed New Camelot, Camelot, which is on this plane, and the mundane world. As most Mages are hide-bound conservatives that live in the past, and refuse to admit that the clock is not a God, I need some other sources of information. Knowing Einstein is dead, sadly, I figured that someone with some experience of thinking in these things, and trying to see out of the box, might be able to help me find the best solution.”

“Adjust the boundary? Care to explain?”

“Well, one of my ancestors, Elrond, created the alternate dimension to hide himself and his people in. He moved almost everything into it, every magical plant, every magical animal, and, naturally, a good share of his people. Tell me if I bore you with the history lesson...”

“No, it is fascinating... How long ago was that?”

“About fifty thousand years or so, give or take a few centuries. We left behind Elves to maintain Life’s Balance, but their numbers has been in decline as the Human mundanes, the non-magical, have destroyed nature, thus depriving our younger cousins of their source of power, nature itself. The High Elves paid a visit to your dimension on a regular basis, and one of them, a far-removed member of my family, founded the first Magical school of this world, Hogwarts, with four friends, a millennium or so ago. He married the descendent of Elrond’s youngest son, whom had decided to stay behind and monitor the evolution of your dimension more tightly. Now, from what I gather, he returned to the Elvin world, intent on picking his family and moving them with him at a later visit, but he was banned from returning, and thus the mortal plane’s branch evolved on its own. It was a period of unrest in the Elvin dimension, and there were serious skirmishes. Given the violence of the war, I suspect Merlin, or it he we are talking about, decided it was for the best to leave things as they were rather than bring his wife and child into the Elvin dimension. Anyway, he had accomplished his goals: he had founded the school, he had set on the Throne of a new kingdom, Camelot, a young man, King Arthur Pendragon, giving him twelve magical councillors, all Knights and Lords of their Magical lands. He had left his leadership role to his wive, with instructions to give the role to his son when he reached his Magical majority. See, Merlin was not above practicing downright nepotism, which was the norm anyway at the time! What he never told anyone is that he had bounded the security of the kingdom not on the Knights of the Round table, or even on his son, but on a magical vow any mundane king or queen must take upon ascension to the Throne of Camelot. Breaking that vow had dire consequences: death. The first to suffer from breaking that vow and thus setting the stage for the dark protections’ activation was Arthur himself, when he renounced protecting magic under pressure of the Roman Catholic church; hence his death and the fall of Camelot, barely a decade after Merlin left for the Elvin kingdom. He never learned of the betrayal of his protégé. Magic’s protection fell on the conqueror, namely the first king of Scotland, and it passed from one line to the next, depending on betrayals of the vow. The last Queen of Scots, Mary, paid her own betrayal with her head. Elizabeth first never did learn of the vow, never took it, so escaped its grips. The next king did learn, and took the vow. It protected him and his line, as he signed the Magna Carta and its secret codicil. Thus we reach today, and Queen Elizabeth II, whom signed and swore the vow. In all history, every king of England has protected the Throne of Camelot, knowing quite well the survival of their lineage depended on protecting Magic, and the work of my ancestor, Merlin Ambrosius. I now hold the magical pendant of the mundane Throne in this world and sit in the seat once reserved for Merlin at the Round Table. The thing is, I also hold the Throne of the High Elves Kingdom. Remember, Merlin married one of Elrond’s descendants in this plane the Elder line died out in the Elvish kingdom, and the crown passed from one usurper to another, the last one being Marlin, a descendant of Merlin, but on the magical side of the division. He denounced his obligations and, from what I was able to piece together, he and his line lost their magic... and their life for that betrayal. Marlin had never been able to access the Crown of Elrond, and thus was not recognized by Magic as legitimate. The last time someone had access to that Crown was the last survivor of Elrond’s descendants in the Elvish Kingdom, and I heard he never even managed to put it on his head before getting killed... at six months old. Elves are not above infanticide for power, as you can see. It produced a civil war that left the Elves lost for centuries. Magic needs guidance, and if guided stupidly, the results are... catastrophic!”

“Wow!” said one of the numerous students that had been listening on the exposé. “You keep referring to us as the ‘mortal’ plane and the other as the ‘magical’ plane. Can you expand on why the terminology?”

“That is why I am looking for someone qualified in space and time. See, Elves are as mortal as anyone, albeit we do live a lot longer than mundanes, if only because we can use Magic to repair ourselves. The thing is, I noticed, while traveling to the other dimension, that time does not flow at the same rate as it does here. Mortal plane, this plane has a clock that seems to run slower than on the magical plane, but, at the same time, faster. I spent a day fixing issues in the Elvin governance, and felt tired, but Madam Bones, the chief of Magical Justice, had not even reached the elevator shafts before I made my way out of where the inter-dimensional portal is set. Yet, the Elves live deep in the past, somewhere before the onset of agriculture! It just does not add up!”

“Before agriculture?”

“Well, they are hunters – gatherers. They reap their world’s resources but do not involve themselves in any form of animal husbandry, or farming of the soil. Their technical evolution sort of gives the impression of moving in the time of the Greeks; even their architecture and dress code fits that better than the medieval looks Diagon Alley used to have until the Queen made it clear that fire risks were too great. There are only two stable settlements in the entire dimension: the Portal Keep, and the Royal Keep, where the capital city is built, if you call building wooden shacks that, if it were not for magic holding them together, would collapse on themselves! I noticed they have vague maps, no roads, no bridges, nothing. I understand their lack of need for those. After all, why build roads if your mere though brings you where you need to be!”

“And...” asked Mister Hawking.

“Well, I need to travel there to lead my people out of their self-dug morass. However, if I spend too much time on this mortal plane to deal with the issues of the Round Table and the governance of this magical world, then the Elves will quickly drift from my directives. Absentee governance is never good. So I was wondering what to do. Should I thin the border? Will doing so collapse the barrier? What about time? Given the immense discrepancy in the flow of time, what will happen to the dimensions? Would they be torn? Can I bring the clocks in sync without affecting the separation?”

“I am beginning to see your problems, and I put that in plural. What I suggest is we think on the issues and come back with an analysis. Do not expect immediate results.”

“Thank you, Professor Hawking. You can contact me via the Queen. I try to keep her informed of my moves. I will pop in occasionally to talk with you. After all, I am the one that does need to do the job with the boundary. I plan to study the portal in depth, on both sides. I do know it needs to be kept charged for its task, and that the Elves’ side has had issues with the process for some reason so I used a leak from this side to keep their side charged. Maybe bringing the clock on both sides to match will ease their issues. After all, it not lack of Magic that is the cause of the issue.”

With that, Harry and his entourage popped out of existence, to reappear in the small side-room the Queen had used during Judgement... month, and walked out, surprising the Royal guard sat at his desk.

“Where is Elizabeth?” asked Harry, as if nothing shocking had occurred.

“She is receiving the United States ambassador. He is rather obnoxious and she is regretting having approved his nomination at some point.”

“Maybe she should do an Alexander?”

“What is an Alexander?”

“He sent to Darius III, the Persian king, the head of his envoy as his answer to an order to surrender. It cut short the recriminations! Diplomatic immunity is an invasion of cold feet.”

“Follow me, I will bring you to her.”

“Do not bother. You have a station to keep. We know where she meets the pesky Ambassadors... She may not actually behead them, but meeting them in view of the courtyard where the axe and Royal Executioner are visible from the window and the smell of blood whiffs up to tickle their nose is a poignant reminder that she has the authority no other government official has. She only needs to look out the window once for the visitor to understand he has outlasted his welcome! Alexander was too busy doing war to stay in one place and receive a long train of potential cold cuts.”

The Mages quickly walked the interminable hallways of Buckingham Palace, and reached the doors leading into the small study Elizabeth had decided to use for these boring meetings. It was the slam of fists on thoracic steel plates and the resounding bang of feet resonating on the marble floors that brought Elizabeth out of her dream to skin the irritating Ambassador for his stupid proposals. The noise also brought the Ambassador to a standstill and a welcomed silence descended on the room.

Elizabeth stood up, peeked on the screen that displayed the image captured by the security camera, and looked at the Ambassador.

“I was about to put you on wait, but I think you will get your answer much more quickly than ‘see you next week’ I was thinking about.” She then hollered: “Come in! Come in! And do slam the doors open! Anything to stop me from strangling that person! He seems to be deprived of his sense of smell, that one, or of common sense of observation. I miss Haig; he was also obnoxious, but at least he knew when he had stretched the elastic to the breaking point!”

The Ambassador, red as a beet, turned around to face the double doors that slammed open, rebounding on the rock walls of the palace noisily. In walked a group of individuals he had only seen in pictures before.

“We are not inclined to introduce the other side of the Crown, which balances the mundane by its presence and insures Our lineage stays comfortably sat on the Throne of Great Britain. If you do not know who they are, you have outlived your usefulness for your government, Ambassador!”

No, the Ambassador did not need introductions: he had been wondering if the pictures were tricks or whatever.

“So, Ambassador, are you willing to repeat your demands on our Crown, and more explicitly on the Magical Crown of Camelot in their face? Or will you finally admit you have no grounds for these demands?”

“I am here to state our position and make sure everyone understands them.”

“Keep to the points, and stop posturing then!” said Frank, as he created a chair for Lady Malfoy and then another for Harry, that changed form to that of a rather massive Lion.

“Do not worry, Harry will understand what you say and make his thoughts clearly known!” said Lady Malfoy. “Is it me that sees spots of Blood under his claws?”

“I figure we did actually forget to let him clean up when we left the University. Humbug was a bloody mess after Harry clawed him, was he not?” replied Sirius. “He will be in a world of pain for some time, and be scarred for life! I hope his wife likes to see the ten nail tracks his front is now adorned with!”

“He should be proud: he carries the mark of his stubborn attitude on his pectorals, much like ten military medals!” Frank added, with a lopsided smile.

“I gather there were issues?” asked a curious Queen.

“Yes, an overinflated moron that refused to admit to whom we are; Harry brought the ‘illusion’ argument to a stop, with a ride down the robes of the ass hole, all claws out.”

Harry let out a loud purr, bringing the attention back to him, and adding an additional shock layer to the story. A growl followed, addressed to the Ambassador.

“So, you asked for something?” said a silky voice, coming from Lady Malfoy.

“Well, yes. The United States will not recognize any influence on its citizens, be they magical or otherwise. We fought a war of independence, won, and no one will remove that independence by backstabbing us with illusions of power, be it magical or otherwise!”

Harry ran his forepaws on the marble floor, gouging it deeply, letting out a sound that no one could mistake for anything else but a declaration of war.

“I think Harry, King Harry of the Mages, just told you off in no uncertain terms.”

“Queen Elizabeth, the United States will not be intimidated by a freak, especially not a little Boy!”

The green flash that seemed to dance in the Feline’s eyes was not missed by anyone, except the overfed Pig in the room.

“Not something to say to Harry... Not good! Not good at all!” commented Sirius as everyone moved away from the American, joining the Queen on her side of the desk.

The growl intensified a thousand times, shaking the Palace to its foundations. Too stupid to take a hint and jump out of the window to escape in merciful death his payment, the Ambassador added, as obnoxiously as possible, “I have diplomatic immunity and no oversized Flea bag can harm me without a state of war existing between our two countries as a consequence! If I do not come out of this death trap alive, our military have received orders to launch a nuclear attack on this museum piece!”

Harry jumped on the Ambassador and began gutting him using his rear paws while holding him in place by his front ones. Once satisfied and his temper passed, which cost the Ambassador his guts and much more, he ported the left-overs to the deck of the USS Enterprise and spelled out what it was and why it was done:

“THE UNITED STATES HAS, ACCORDING TO THE AMERICAN AMBASSADOR, WILLIAM WILKES, HEREIN THE MEAT PILE, DECLARED WAR ON THE KINGDOM OF CAMELOT. SWIM, BASTARDS! YOU HAVE 15 MINUTES TO VACATE THE AIRCRAFT CARRIER BEFORE I PORT IT INTO SPACE AS A REMINDER OF WHAT POWER REALLY MEANS AND WHERE IT ACTUALLY RESIDES! SHOULD YOU TRIGGER YOUR NUCLEAR WEAPONS, THE TIME FRAME WILL BE REDUCED TO NIL, AND THE PORT WILL COVER YOUR ENTIRE NUCLEAR TRIAD, FROM LAND-BASED MISSILE SILOS, THROUGH THE STRATEGIC AIR COMMAND, TO SHIPS INCLUDING SUBMARINES, AND WILL COVER YOUR ENTIRE MILITARY, BE THEY AIR, LAND, OR NAVAL, BOTH HUMAN AND MATERIAL. I DOUBT THE AMERICAN GOERNMENT WILL SURVIVE MY FURY! YOUR MILITARY CERTAINLY WILL NOT! HARRY JAMES POTTER AMBROSIUS, KING OF MAGIC.”

The commander of the aircraft carrier was no dumb ass, and he quickly ordered the evacuation of the ship by the crew. It was close, as the last life raft barely made it out of the grip of the magical vortex before every crew member of the Sixth fleet saw the huge aircraft carrier rise majestically up in the air and vanish slowly, to be placed in circumpolar orbit at twenty-four thousand miles of altitude. The bright sunlight reflected on the hull, a burning reminder of the cost of stupidity.

Shortly, the Admiral was picked up by a gunship, and he was in radio contact with the military in Washington.

“Get me the Chief of staff! On the double!” he thundered. Shortly, he was on the horn with the afore-mentioned Chief of staff.

“Hey George! How come you are on the radio, on an open channel?”

“Because what I have to say will be public shortly in the US anyway, and no amount of political pressuring or shenanigans will be able to hide it! To be blunt, the USS Enterprise is in orbit.”

“I know it is, it just lifted off the Cape!”

“I am not talking about the space shuttle! I am talking about my aircraft carrier, all of its one hundred thousand tons, with fuel, nuclear reactors and aircrafts! I am now aboard a gunboat and my crew is distributed amongst the sixth fleet ships. It will be hard to miss as it shines in the sky day and night, its surface reflecting the sun’s rays down to earth. Anyone with a good pair of binoculars will be able to see it is an aircraft carrier, and someone with a small telescope will be able to read the name and ID number!”

“What happened?”

“Get this: Wilkes appeared on my deck in a barely recognizable pile of cold meat, and a message in blood spelled it out in plain letter on my deck. From the comments of the cook, it was blood, probably the fool’s. I have a picture to send you shortly. Apparently, some idiots in the Administration declared war on Camelot and sent Wilkes to carry the message. He carried it all right: he got gutted for it. I think Camelot is pissed, and is considering removing us from the equation. It was a grace they let us vacate the ship before sending it to space! Imagine the way to die as we depressurized and expanded before exploding? I, for one, do not want to die that way!”

“Can you move here quickly?”

“I will be boarding a helicopter shortly, and reach the coast where I expect to board a commercial flight to Washington. We do not have an overt military presence in the nearest land-based airfield. That will take me 22 hours to reach you. By then, the shit will have hit the fan. Come and pick me up at the airport yourself, in a civil car please. We do not need to attract attention. I am sure the idiots will try to cover their asses and find excuses or fake ignorance rather than deal with the consequences. I do not intend to be a moving target for an assassination attempt to protect asses that need to be put on the cooking range!”

“I wonder if the President knows of Wilkes’ mission?”

“I am worried on both counts. If he knows, he is an idiot that needs to be impeached; if he does not, then he can plead ignorance when he is called to stand trial in front of the Round Table and the king of Magic.”

“Stand trial? We are an independent nation!”

“We lost it the moment those threats were uttered by Wilkes. The mundane world is free to do as it wishes as long as it does not impinge on the magical world. That threat was just such an impingement. I happened to listen to the Queen as she read the Magical codicil of the Magna Carta, and it is very clear that we are bound by that codicil as much as the Queen is. We declared independence from George III, but the magical side of our society is still bound by Magic to the Crown of Camelot. And get this: they can not break that vow, as it is in Magic. If they did, they would die. The mundane Crown of England is bound to that Codicil as well, as it ensures its protection. By and large, most of what is left of mundane royalty is also bound as they married into the English Royal family and took the vow. Those that forfeited their vow lost their Throne. As an example, Louis XVI, or Tsar Nicolas II. Notice none of their descendants survived to claim the crown, and the crown itself disappeared. Knowing of that codicil has helped me understand what has happened around the world over the last thousand years or so. We do not benefit from that protection, and the King of Magic is well capable of reducing us to dust and Magic would not even blink, as we, as mundanes and not bound by a crown, have not taken any such vow. See, Magic protects a family and allows it to reign, as long as the vow is taken. We did not, therefore we are not protected. We are exposed to mundane invasion, and to magical backlash if King Harry so decides, without any ill effect on him or his heirs, because of that lack of protection.”

“You seem to know more than most...”

“I will explain more when I reach Washington. We have been on the air long enough, and the canoe is ready to bring me to the helicopter carrier.”

“Have a safe flight. Code Red.”

“I know. I was going to state it myself. Goodbye, and stay safe!”

“You too.”

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