Genosha
Hari didn’t want to sleep. When she slept, she dreamt. She didn’t have happy dreams. Oh, no. Her dreams were of magical people – kidnapped, abused, put in camps, stripped of their free will, and used as slaves. And then put in graves.
The magical people in her dreams weren’t like the witches and wizards in the magical world. Everyone’s abilities seemed to be limited to one skill, but almost no one’s skill was the same. One person used insect-like wings to fly. Another had super strength. One had skin like a chameleon, blending into any background.
They all ended up in the camp with blank eyes.
Hari’s dreams felt so real, but how was that possible?
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Hermione didn’t believe in the In Between. She thought Hari’s mind made up a conversation with Dumbledore when Hari was near death in the forest after walking to her death. Anytime Hari tried to bring it up, Hermione’s voice would sound like a condescending teacher explaining a topic to a particularly stupid student.
“The Deathly Hallows were made by three powerful wizards. Not Death. You didn’t see Dumbledore, really, Hari. You need to move on.”
But Hari knew in her bones that something was different now.
People were dying who shouldn’t. It was wrong and she needed to fix it.
That night, Hari meditated so deeply she woke in the In Between.
People were arriving on the platform. A steady stream of confused people walked towards the trains. None of them looked at her.
They shouldn’t be here.
I need to stop this abomination.
But how? Hari didn’t know where these people were coming from or who was hurting them.
The wall in front of Hari shimmered and transformed into a window. She could see the camp, stretched as far as the eye could see.
And somehow she knew. The In Between is mine. The trains are mine. These Deaths are wrong. I can change it.
Hari reached out a hand toward the view of the camp.
Because I’m the Master of Death.
Hari stepped through the window.
________________________________________
Hari watched the camp from the sky. The prisoners were wearing strange collars. She followed the bad guys to their bosses. Gently, she reached into their minds with Legilimancy. A picture formed. A group of non-magical people called Magistrates were in charge. They were making money – a ton of money – off of the slave labor of the magicals. And the experimentation… Hari pulled out of their minds and snapped her Occlumency shields into place. Calm. She needed to be calm.
For the first time in her life, Hari thought: What would Gellert Grindelwald do?
Well, there were perks of having the Resurrection Stone.
A young Grindelwald’s shade appeared by her side. He had sharp eyes, sharper cheekbones, and a gorgeous accent.
“You are the Master of Death.”
Hari raised an eyebrow. “Hello, Mr. Grindelwald.”
“You’re Albus’s project.”
A stab of pain tore through Hari’s chest. How do these assholes always know how to hurt her? Did she wear a sign?
“Do you know what’s happening here?” she asked.
Grindelwald shook his head. Hari explained. He looked like he was up for a spot of mass murder by the end of it.
“Any advice?” Hari asked.
“Destroy them.”
Hari scowled. “This is a chance for magical people to live openly. Surely you have thoughts on what I can do now to improve their chances of survival?”
Grindelwald stared at her, unblinking. After a minute, he stood straighter and clasped his hands behind his back. “First, they are your people. It is your chance of survival, not their chance. If you are not invested, they will fail.”
Hari stared at the camp. She felt their souls. Every soul.
Yes. They are mine.
Hari nodded. “What else?”
“Preserve the evidence. Let the world see what was done here.” His voice was cold.
“Yes,” muttered Hari. “Yes.”
Hari had almost forgotten Grindelwald’s presence when he said, “To think, I was so close to being Master of Death. So close. If only Albus… So close.”
Hari pivoted and locked eyes with Gellert Grindelwald, something very few in life dared. “No. You weren’t.”
She sent him back to the Paths of the Dead.
And then she hunted.
________________________________________
The island was hers. Genosha, it was called. It was breathtakingly beautiful.
The island was hers, and she was never giving it up.
Every human oppressor was in jail. Hari constructed a great number of age lines. The muggles were confined. Somewhat begrudgingly, Hari also put an array of wards and protections around her jail so no one could harm her prisoners.
Hari constructed a simple ritual in which she tied all collars on the island to the collar in her ritual circle. As she unlocked the collar in front of her, every collar on the island popped open.
She used Voldemort’s speech projection spell to speak into their minds. It used an element of Legilimency that would translate the thoughts to the speaker’s native language.
“My name is Hari. You are on the island of Genosha. I have set you free. The humans who hurt you are imprisoned. If you can help those around you, please do. If you need something, let me know. I am turning Genosha into a safe haven for people like us, with special abilities. A place safe from those who would hurt us, where we can live openly and without fear. If you want to leave Genosha, we will get you home. If you want to stay, this can be your home. Please don’t destroy the camp – we need to preserve the evidence of what happened here. To a better future, my friends.”
Hari released the communication spell, apparated to the camp’s entrance, and crushed the entire perimeter fence to the ground.
People started moving toward her. They were confused. Some looked broken, others homicidal. So many were weak, hungry, or injured.
________________________________________
Hari’s world narrowed to four concerns. Water. Food. Shelter. Medical aid.
In a large field next to the camp, Hari conjured large tanks, a bit like above-ground pools, filled them with water, and added a refilling charm. She sighed. It should do for a few days.
Some were shaking off the confusion caused by the collars quickly. They helped direct people to the open field.
Hari walked up to a man who looked like a cross between a professional basketball player and bodybuilder. He was carrying three children.
“Do you know where the food stores are?”
His mouth dropped open. “You are… You are Hari.”
“Yes. Do–”
“You saved us.” He looked at her with wide, worshipful eyes.
She patted his arm. “There’s water over there.” She waved behind her. “But now I’m trying to organize food for everyone.”
A woman next to him spoke up. “The kitchens are in the second building from the left.” She pointed in the general direction.
Hari nodded. “Thank you.” And she walked into the camp.
It stank.
She clamped down her Occlumency shields. The misery of this place soaked into the ground.
Hari moved the food stores to the open field and conjured a large tent. She multiplied the food several times over until the stores were enough to last one week.
She conjured many more tents and healed some superficial wounds. Most people hadn’t been fed enough. There wasn’t anything she could do to immediately heal them besides encourage them to eat small amounts of bland food often. She already had to perform some emergency healing to clear out the stomachs of some poor, hungry souls who become ill after gorging too much too soon.
It was heartbreaking.
This could never happen again.
Not ever again.
________________________________________
The next days were chaotic. Hari solved one problem after another, but there was never enough time in a day. Everywhere she looked, people stared at her with hero worship. Past history taught her that people would turn on her quickly. But maybe not here. Maybe not after they’d been through this camp. Grindelwald’s words range in her ears. Maybe this could be her home with her people.
Many wanted to stay and build a safe haven. But many wanted to leave. Immediately. Besides being a logistical challenge, it pushed Hari into some large, immediate decisions.
If people left, they would tell other people what happened. And governments would know Hari was setting up a mutant country. And then Genosha would be a target.
But Hari couldn’t keep people here against their will. Well, she could, but she wouldn’t.
________________________________________
“You need to delegate,” said one man.
Hari huffed. “Are you volunteering? There’s plenty to do.”
He scowled. “Bring Magneto here.”
People in this reality had a thing with weird names. Then again, she went along with calling a self-defense group ‘Dumbledore’s Army’, so she had no room to talk.
“Who’s Magneto?”
“The leader of the Brotherhood of Mutants? You’ve never heard of him?”
Hari had a feeling her lack of information was making a few people panic. “What are his goals? His skills?”
“He controls metal.”
That sounded useful. “And would he harm anyone here? Would he help?”
“He wants mutants to be able to live openly. He wouldn’t harm mutants.”
Hari sighed. “Do you know how to contact him?”
________________________________________
A blond man popped up next to Hari. She absolutely did not jump.
“What about Professor Xavier?”
“Who’s that?”
“He’s a friend. He runs a school for mutant children in the US. He helps train people to use their powers.”
That sounded all sorts of useful, too.
________________________________________
It sucked being in charge of so many people. This meeting had better go well, because Hari needed responsible people to delegate to. And who knew the political climate of this reality.
Hari walked into a nearly-empty restaurant in Ostia, outside of Rome.There were two groups of people on opposite sides of the room. One group was clustered around a man in a wheelchair. The other group spread along the side by the fireplace, but a tall man in an odd helmet was the undeniable focal point.
All eyes snapped to Hari as she entered the room. She brought no entourage.
She sat between the groups, forming a triangle between the man in the wheelchair and the helmet man.
“Good evening,” said Hari.
“Who are you, and why have you called us here?” demanded the helmet man. His accent was lovely.
She felt a mind slither against her shields and looked at the man in the wheelchair.
“That’s a bit rude, isn’t it?”
The man in the wheelchair raised his eyebrows.
“You can’t read her, Charles?” asked the helmet man.
Charles shook his head.
“I’m Hari.”
“I’m Charles Xavier. This is–” But he was cut off.
“Magneto.”
“Do you mind if I put up a shield so people outside of this room can’t eavesdrop?” asked Hari.
“Not at all,” said Charles.
Magneto waved a hand in dismissal.
Hari put up the shield. “Do you know about Genosha?”
Charles blinked. “Genosha? It’s an island near the coast of Africa in the same general region as Madagascar.”
Hari looked at Magneto, but he didn’t add anything more.
“Thousands of mutants were kidnapped and taken to Genosha–”
Hari stopped when Magneto stood so quickly his chair hit the wall behind him. “What?!”
She took a breath and kept going. “They were controlled. Abused. Forced into slavery. Experimented on–”
The metal light fixtures melted. The chairs and tables jerked closer to Magneto. The room was lit only by the dim fireplace.
“Erik!” yelled Charles. “Calm yourself.”
“I told you! Charles, we must–”
Hari wrapped a strong shield around herself and then silenced everyone in the room. “Are you able to control your powers, or do you need help?”
Magneto vibrated with controlled violence. Metal spheres whirled around his head, but the furniture stopped moving.
Hari lifted the silencing spell.
“I took control of the island, imprisoned the bad guys, and freed all of the mutants. And now I need your help.”
Charles turned his chair toward Hari. “What do you need?”
“I’m turning Genosha into a safe haven for mutants. My powers will protect the island. But I need legal insight into whether Genosha should be recognized as an independent country. I need objective observers to look over the evidence of what happened in Genosha so it doesn’t happen again. I need logistical help. There are thousands of traumatized mutants, some injured, who need help. Food. Water. Shelter. Some want to go home, but then our secrecy will end. This is a wonderful opportunity for mutants, but a lot needs to be done quickly, and I can’t do it alone.”
“We will go there immediately,” said Magneto.
Hari breathed out. Good. This was good. Probably good. Maybe disastrous. People who behaved impulsively often brought trouble (ahem), but people who would jump into a situation like this had their hearts in the right place. Probably.
“There are rules,” said Hari.
“Rules?” Magneto’s voice was more biting than Snape’s.
“Don’t kill, rape, or assault. You may act in self defense, of course. No stealing. If you need food, water, shelter, medicine, or something, come to me or one of my helpers. Can you abide by these rules?”
“Of course,” said Charles, cheerily.
Hari blinked at him. She could practically feel his bubbling excitement. She raised an eye at Magneto, who nodded once.
________________________________________
They were phenomenal. After only a few hours of Magneto and Charles helping on Genosha, Hari knew these were get shit done people. And take no shit people. She wanted to cuddle them.
________________________________________
At the end of the first day that her new helpers were in Genosha, Hari returned to the house she stayed in. She had given rooms to Charles and Magneto. Yelling caught Hari’s attention.
Charles and Erik were arguing. There was something terribly bitter about Charles’ vitriol.
“You did this to me,” said Charles, pointing at his wheelchair.
And that’s how the silence started.
After a minute of Charles pressing his lips together until they were almost white and Erik clenching his jaw and hands until surely something would break, Hari broke in.
“Why don’t you just fix it?”
There was a flash of anger on Charles’ face, but it quickly disappeared.
“Not everything can be fixed.”
And he really seemed to think that was the end of it.
“That’s stupid.”
As Hari said this, Charles’ head jerked. His mouth opened, but Hari spoke first.
She crossed her arms. “Do you have powers or not?”
“I’m telepathic,” he bit out.
“Obviously.” Hari was a little sad that she’d never reach Snape’s level of implied dunderhead with her words. “Stop thinking like a normal human.”
“What do you mean?” asked Erik.
“You’re thinking about normal doctors. Just because they can’t fix you, doesn’t mean someone with healing powers can’t.”
Charles looked like he’d been struck.
Erik was convinced and moved closer. “We will find the right mutant, Charles.” His voice left no place for doubt.
She walked to Charles, knelt in front of his wheelchair, and looked up. “With your permission?”
Charles hesitated, then nodded.
Hari cast a diagnostic spell on his torso. It was a type of imaging spell used by healers to visualize internal anatomy. A purple floating image of Charles’ spine floated in front of him, with a small region highlighted in blinking red. Charles gasped and Erik knelt down, putting his face inches from the image.
Hari pointed to the blinking red area. “This is the problem.”
“Yes,” breathed Charles.
“Hmmm.”
Hari really wanted Genosha to succeed. She needed good leaders for that. They’d accomplished so much within one day. This could be an amazing team. They needed to work together. And it was a nice thing to do.
She performed a healing spell that Bill taught her.
The blinking red shifted to purple.
Charles gasped. “Did you…? Am…Am I?”
“Charles, how do you feel?” demanded Erik.
“I can feel. I can feel my legs. I can feel…” Charles pitched forward and moaned.
“Charles!”
“I’m fine, my friend. My muscles hurt. But that’s more feeling than I ever expected.” Charles’ hands clutched Erik’s shoulders, his forehead pressed to Erik’s sternum.
Hari could feel Charles’ mind pressing against her shields.
Erik moved his head to stare at Hari, unblinking. She was glad his attention was divided because his focus was rather intense. Hari had a feeling most people did whatever he wanted to escape from that focus. Erik’s hand moved to cradle Charles’ neck.
“He is healed?” There was no hiding this was a demand, not a question.
Hari shrugged. “He’ll need to build up his leg muscles, but his spine is healed.”
Erik’s smile transformed his face. Rather a lot of teeth were showing.
“So you guys can stop arguing, right?” Hari asked.
Erik’s smile dimmed and was replaced by confusion. Not argue with Charles? Was such a thing possible? No. Surely not.
Charles huffed a laugh. We’ll argue about other things, my friend. He turned his face toward Hari. “Thank you.”
Hari smiled.