I'm gonna have my own vampire castle in the Tibetan mountains, with a dirt road all in the shadows leading up to it, and it's gonna have guard dogs and gargoyles and it's gonna be right on the edge of a cliff, and I'm gonna have my own dungeon with a bunch of hot exotic Veela all ready to do my bidding…

A sudden turbulence shook Harry out of his trance. He jerked his eyes open, shielding them from the sun's glare. They were flying over a crystal clear ocean. Gabrielle was still sleeping soundly against him. Small gusts of wind pushed her back into a sitting position whenever she threatened to slip and fall.

He stared, dumbfounded, as the unicorn flew straight as an arrow. Perhaps on second thought, I should have specified a little more than just 'east'.

Leaning forwards, he patted the creature on the back of the head. "Maybe land the next time we fly over an island."

Sharply, the unicorn veered right. Apparently, it knew where to go to find land, though he wasn't quite sure whether to trust its judgement. The interminable expanse of water went on for long enough that he spaced out again, closing his eyes and returning to his imagination.

He was deep in thought about how to organize the ground floor of his castle when he heard Gabrielle yawn deeply.

"Good morning," he said, opening his eyes. "Probably, anyway. I don't have a watch."

"Morning… where are we?" Gabrielle looked around.

"I'm not really sure. Somewhere."

"Wow… it's so pretty!"

"What, the ocean? It's okay, I guess," he said.

"Uh-huh," said Gabrielle. She leaned forward, stroking the back of the unicorn's head. "But it's not as pretty as he is. We should give him a name."

"I don't think we should," said Harry. "I mean, it's just a unicorn."

"Well, we should still give him a name!"

"Does it matter? It's not like we'll get him confused with another unicorn."

"That's not the point! We can't just call him 'unicorn' all the time."

"I think we can. Besides, I don't know any good unicorn names."

"Think of one!"

"You do it," he said. Then a thought struck him. "Wait, is it even a unicorn at all? I mean, it has wings. That would make it a pegasus."

"No, it's a unicorn. Look." Gabrielle pointed at its head, where a long, spiralling horn ending in a sharp tip was clearly visible. Yet the creature also had two massive wings, and a smattering of feathers covering its body.

"Right. So it's a bit of both, then? I've never heard of an animal like that."

"Madame Maxime says they're unicorns. She raised them herself. They all have wings like this."

"Interesting."

Whatever the animal was called, its intuition had proven correct. Over the horizon came a distant island, stretching in both directions as far as the eye could see.

"Where do you think we are?" asked Gabrielle.

"Not sure. I think…" They'd been flying east from Scotland, and the pegascorn had turned right, so they were heading south… "…Denmark? Poland? Somewhere around there, I'd expect."

"I've only ever been in France and England," said Gabrielle. "Is it nice in Denmark?"

"Probably not. Also, Hogwarts is in Scotland."

The unigasus landed on the shores of the island. The sand was coarse, filled with pebbles and even a couple of seashells. Even as they left the beach and headed into the fields, there was hardly anything of interest.

"Flat fields everywhere… absolutely nothing to look at… yes, I do believe we're in Denmark."

He led Gabrielle and the unicorn inward. The best course of action was to keep going until they spotted a wind turbine, which he hoped would lead them to civilization. From there he'd look for a map of some description. Until then, he had only the landscapes of Denmark to keep him entertained.

"How about… Fluffy?"

"No, Hagrid did that already, and it's totally unfitting."

Gabrielle pouted. "That's not fair! I like Fluffy."

"Well, I don't, and you're not in a position to make demands. Think of a name that isn't trash."

This exchange had been going on for far too long. Gabrielle was riding the unicorn, which made for quite a pretty sight. Unfortunately, she had taken it upon herself to find a good name for the animal, and so Harry was in the process of routinely rejecting all the drab, insipid, saccharine names that Gabrielle's childish mind could come up with. He was particularly moody in that moment as he was forced to deal with the sunlight, siphoning him of his forces. He obscured it with his cloak as best he could.

A few minutes later, Gabrielle spoke again. "Alicorn?"

"Because he's a unicorn with wings? Clever, but that's just asking for a lawsuit. Bin it and start over."

"Rarity!"

"Don't fuck with me, Gabrielle. I can't stand My Little Pony."

"Why not?"

"It's a stupid, boring, light-hearted shit-show. It's insultingly light-hearted, as if it's just teaching kids that everything's fine and that life is wonderful, when it's really not."

"I like it…"

"Of course you do, you're a little girl," he said. "But let me tell you, Gabrielle, our journey will teach you much more about life than that trash, annoyingly cutesy program ever could."

"Well, just because it's a cute cartoon doesn't mean that it doesn't have good names for ponies," she said. A solid argument, Harry thought. He'd have to do better.

"You know what? You're right," he said, "but our friend here isn't a cartoon pony at all. He's a real, wonderful creature, so he deserves an appropriate name."

"But you said you don't know any names."

"I don't. So how about we don't give him a name for now, until we find someone who does know some good names?"

"But I wanted to name him now…" Gabrielle looked down, despondent, and the sight was sad enough to make Harry reconsider.

"You can keep trying, if you want. You might eventually come up with a decent enough name."

A few minutes later: "Let's call him Sparkles!"

"I already told you, no names from My Little Pony."

"It's not."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not! You're thinking of Twilight Sparkle."

Harry cursed. She was right. "Well, we're still not naming him Sparkles. It's a stupid name."

"It fits him."

"How in the world does it fit him?"

"His feathers are so bright and sparkly."

"I really don't think they are."

"Shut up! I'm calling him Sparkles."

"No, you shut up. I don't think you know who's in charge here."

"Sparkles!"

"Give me one good reason why I should let you call him that," he said, looking back at her.

She stared at him and gave him a mischievous smile. "I'll let you drink my blood."

Harry blinked. "Huh. That Imperius really fucked you up, didn't it?"

"Completely."

"Alright, then Sparkles it is."

"Yay!"

The stunning panoramas of Denmark only grew better when they spotted a series of wind turbines spinning in the distance. Remarkable creations, Harry thought, considering they were the work of Muggles. When they approached them, they discovered that they'd been built in the middle of nowhere, not near a small city as he'd anticipated. Fortunately, they also discovered that a motorway had been built in their relative vicinity. He would have continued their walk, but Sparkles was getting tired, so he decided that they'd stop by and wait for a hitch-hiker.

An hour later, the unicorn was sleeping, not one car had passed by and he was beginning to question his approach.

"Fucking hell, this is awkward," he said. He was trying to drink Gabrielle's blood—he'd spelled her unconscious a while back—but it was proving to be an arduous task. Somehow, he'd never realized how inconvenient of a spot the navel was, but the blood from it was so deliciously sweet that he was willing to make the effort.

He licked up some of the blood, but it was barely a drop. "I need an IV bag."

It was another hour before a car drove by, by which time Sparkles had woken and was nibbling on some grass, and Gabrielle was lying half-naked on the ground. The old hatchback was being driven by someone who had to be equally as old. As he'd expected, the Muggle stopped by when he caught sight of them.

An elderly man stepped out of the car. The noise that came out of his mouth was positively disgusting, as though someone had corrupted an obscure German dialect for hundreds of years and then tried to say a tongue-twister in it while choking on something.

"Excuse me, sir, do you speak a language?" Harry asked. The man seemed to realize what had transpired, as the noises coming out of his mouth changed drastically. It wasn't clear whether he was trying to speak English, or whether he had simply switched to another mating call.

With a world-weary sigh, Harry pulled out his wand. "You know what? I really can't be bothered. Imperio!"

Harry soon discovered that Denmark was much more enjoyable in a car. In his state of Imperius-ness, the man had acquired some English, though his accent was still vile. He was currently driving them—at his leisurely pace—towards the city of Aalborg, which Harry knew nothing about. Sparkles was more than able to keep up with the car, and looked to be greatly enjoying the fresh Danish air. Gabrielle was still unconscious, as Harry had learned that the back seat of a car made for a great storing place for children.

It was some time before they arrived in Aalborg, during which Harry had kept himself entertained with his collection of local opera CDs. To his slight disappointment, there was a dearth of music from the German Romantic era.

Soon, the first buildings rolled into view. Sparkles was forced to stay behind; Harry assigned him a very particular grove of trees and made him swear that he would stay put.

He had to admit that Aalborg was quite a plucky little town. Colourful apartments with sharply sloped red roofs made up a majority of the buildings—at least once they got past the industrial side of the city. There was an appropriate amount of greenery to be found, and the whole place had a calm, relaxed air about it, as though nothing particularly exciting ever happened.

This feels like home.

He spotted a theatre and a museum of modern art, which he was eager to check out. A more worrying building stood out among the many homes.

Harry turned to his driver. "Remember what I said. Keep away from the churches, and respect the traffic laws."

The man nodded and turned down a side street. He was driving aimlessly, giving Harry a tour of the city.

Right, so where would you get a map… or a globe, actually. I'd like a globe. A big, decorated, elegant looking globe. It'll sit beside my throne. But I'm not gonna find one here, that's a pretty luxurious item. I guess I'll just settle on a regular old—

Something caught his eye. "Stop. Park this car."

They were in a square, curiously called John F. Kennedys Plads, where an old railway station had been built. The man drove the car into the station's car park, from which the whole of the square was clearly visible.

On the street corner across from them, a run-down antique shop seemed to jut out from the surrounding buildings. A crooked wooden sign had been hanged over the shop, and something in Danish that he didn't understand was written on it. Passersby appeared oblivious to its existence. Further, he'd noticed a very unusual-looking man in a purple cape and top hat strolling into it earlier. The conclusion was evident.

"I think you'll agree, that shop right there is hidden from Muggle eyes," said Harry. "What do you think?"

"You're pointing at an apartment," said the man.

"Aha!"

He left the car in a hurry, then walked over to the driver's side. "Take her with you to the nearest hotel for me, will you? Make her a nice meal and buy her some new clothes—the pyjamas aren't really that good for everyday wear."

The driver nodded. Then Harry flicked his wand, and Gabrielle awoke and stood up groggily in the back of the car. She looked around, her face blank, like she wasn't quite registering what she was seeing, until her eyes fell on Harry.

"Hullo," she said, smiling. "Did I fall asleep? Where are we?"

"Yeah, you were out for quite a while," said Harry. "This man here's gonna take you somewhere so you can have lunch. Don't worry, he's really nice."

"Aren't you coming with us?" she asked.

"Sorry, I'm busy," he said. Gabrielle pouted. "I won't take too long, though. See you later."

"Okay. Be back soon!"

The John F. Kennedy square did not quite live up to its name, Harry thought. It was nothing more than a fairly small paved square ringed by a few trees. There were stairs in the square which he presumed led down to a metro of some variety. Past the trees, a modest statue stood, built from long-oxidized copper, depicting a man riding on a horse.

Is that the thirty-fifth president himself? On a horse?

Upon closer inspection, he found the dates 1863-1906 carved into the base of the statue, so he presumed that it was someone else. He shrugged and headed to the antique shop. It was a quaint looking thing. The signboard, which dangled precariously over the shop, read 'Antikviteter Af Enhver Slags,' the meaning of which he did not attempt to guess.

He was about to walk in when a nagging doubt stopped him. Shit, is he gonna recognize me? I mean, I would presume most wizards in Denmark know who I am, but would it be enough to recognize me?

Opting to err on the side of caution, he drew his menacing cloak over his face with one hand, obscuring him from view. He walked in.

The shop was a cramped thing, not much larger than the average bedroom. Every available inch of space had been filled with some sort of old paraphernalia, so that one could only walk from the front door in a direct line to the counter. The man in the purple cape was discussing something with a man who he presumed was the owner of the shop, and it must have been an engrossing discussion, because his entrance had been ignored entirely.

He looked about the shop, where even the ceiling had been charmed to hold as many items as possible, but when he looked closer, he noticed an odd detail, Everything on sale appeared related to silverware, from teacups and plates to bowls and cutlery. He warily eyed the knives and forks hanging magically overhead.

Well, that's shitty. Not a globe or map in sight!

The man in the purple cape turned and began to stroll towards the door, failing to realize that he was in the way. Harry was forced to retreat and leave the shop to avoid a collision. He eyed the man curiously as he too walked out, noting that he was carrying with him a heavy tome, clutching it as though it was a defenceless child. Harry hadn't noticed any books in the shop. Was there more to it than he'd first realized?

More importantly, why the hell didn't either of them notice me? I had my cloak all vampire-like and oh, right.

He removed the cloak and stuffed it in his pocket. In his eagerness, he had forgotten that he'd been carrying the Invisibility Cloak since the night before. Beneath it he wore his proper black cloak, which he raised in a threatening fashion as he walked back into the shop.

This time the owner noticed him, making a sickening sound which he presumed was a Danish greeting. He was a middle aged man, with pasty white skin and ashen hair cropped short, and he didn't look to have seen much sunlight in his life, to which Harry could relate.

"Good afternoon," he said spookily when he approached the counter. The man gave him a suspect look, then took a deep bow.

"Good afternoon, O distant traveller, and welcome to my shop."

That's way overblown, he thought. If nothing else, the man actually had a decent accent. "My name is… Henry," he said. "I understand that my appearance may suggest this, but am in fact not a vampire."

"The thought had crossed my mind," said the owner, "but I then also thought, surely no vampire would be so foolhardy as to stroll into a simple wizarding store such as this!"

"Yes… that would be very foolhardy indeed," he said slowly, wondering whether he should like the man or not. "I apologize, but, well—you see, as it happens… a couple of pesky vampire hunters mistook me for a vampire, which I of course am not, and so I am keeping up appearances in the hopes that they will follow me and I shall lead them into an ambush."

"A splendid plan, young Henry," said the owner.

"Splendid indeed," he said. "Now, tell me, do you happen to have any globes or maps on sale?"

For a moment, he saw a flash of anticipation in the owner's eyes. "Certainly! Follow me, please."

Without a sound, the counter lowered into the ground until it was flush with the floor. The owner led him to a dark corner at the back of the shop, where a small wooden door was set in the wall, so nondescript that he hadn't noticed it until then. Through the door was a short and dimly lit corridor, at the end of which a spiral staircase burrowed into the ground.

"This is the secret of my shop," said the owner as they descended the stairs. "There's not a thing that I don't sell, and if there is, that's only because I'm out of stock!"

The further they descended, Harry was inclined to believe the man's words. The ground had been dug out and carved at regular intervals into a series of underground chambers, far larger and more open than the room at ground level. They passed rooms full of old fishing equipment, foreign language books, make-up and costumes, astronomy equipment, dried cooking ingredients, and even second hand wands. Finally they reached the eighteenth floor, dedicated to maps and globes.

The room was a veritable treasury. He perused old parchments from all eras, modern and antique. Many maps were so old that the countries and continents were visibly deformed and hard to recognize. Finally he found was he was looking for: a large raised-relief globe of iron and bronze, old but in perfect condition. He pictured it resting beside his throne, and he pictured himself swirling it around like a villain. He could practically feel the evilness that it exuded.

"This is an excellent product," he said as he observed Asia on the globe. "How much does it cost?"

"That globe has been waiting a long time for a customer so discerning as yourself to choose it over the others," said the owner. He sounded quite enthusiastic. "I will offer you a special discount! It'll be just three-hundred Galleons."

Harry's heart sank. He had taken his pouch along for the journey, but he was fairly sure that was too expensive for him.

"That's—well, I might have to return tomorrow, because I don't have that much money," he said.

"What about two-hundred and fifty?"

"I don't think so," said Harry. He sure is eager to sell this thing.

The owner looked dejected. "…two-hundred?"

"Let me check," said Harry. He placed the globe back on the shelf, to which the owner flinched. He pulled out his pouch and rummaged through it.

"If I'm counting right, I've got one-hundred and seventy two Galleons," he said.

"Sold!"

Whatever the reason, the owner really wanted to get rid of that globe, but that was fine for Harry. Soon he was back out on the streets of Aalborg, lighter in money but in possession of the fine globe.

"Alright, now… Gabrielle is in the nearest hotel." He looked around the John F. Kennedy square. "Shit, where is the nearest hotel?"

Drawing the Invisibility Cloak around him, he began to walk around Aalborg in search of a hotel. He reflected on the city's stunning similarity to Little Whinging. The architecture was perhaps a shade more Parisian, but nevertheless there was a sense of familiarity hanging in the air, now tinged with the feeling of dread that he was doubtlessly leaving in his wake as he stroked the globe beneath his cloak.

He soon located a three-story hotel, and saw to his relief that the old man's car was parked in front of it.

Now, which room are they gonna be in? I don't really wanna walk in and ask.

He sat in front of the hotel and pondered the situation for how long he didn't know. No nearer was he to finding a solution when a sight distracted him: the man in the purple cape appeared again, strolling casually into the hotel. He still held the tome tight to his chest.

Huh.

After some thinking, a solution came to him. The old man had been placed under the Imperius Curse, so all he needed to do was command him to reveal himself. He unsheathed his wand theatrically, concentrating on the sensation of the Imperius.

Come to me now, old man, as soon as you can!

For a few seconds, there was silence. Then a rattling sound rang out from above, followed by a resounding crash. Harry's head shot up just in time to catch a glimpse of a man falling from the third floor of the hotel. The man fell to the ground and splattered in a sea of blood, innards and broken glass.

A sickening groan came from the man as he began to crawl towards Harry, though it was hard to hear over the screams of onlookers. A receptionist ran out of the hotel in a panic, trying to help the man. It was clear that the fall had been lethal; after only a few seconds, the man had stopped crawling and gone very still.

…Right. Remember to not mess with the Imperius.

He edged away from the man and removed his Invisibility Cloak once he'd reached a safe distance. Using the Imperius he placed over Gabrielle, he ordered her to come to him in such a way that she would not be harmed.

When she left the hotel, she received a few concerned looks, and someone shooed her away from the gruesome sight. Harry was pleased to see that the old man had followed his orders and bought Gabrielle some new clothes and even shoes, so that she didn't have to walk around town half-naked in her pyjamas.

When Gabrielle came to him, she looked worried. "What happened?"

"Oh, nothing much, just a little hiccup with the Imperius curse," he said. "Don't worry about it."

Gabrielle smiled. "Okay!"

"By the way, check out what I bought," he said, holding out the globe. She stared at it in bewilderment.

"This is how far we've come," he said, tracing a line from Scotland to Denmark with his finger. "Pretty cool, huh?"

Gabrielle shook her head. "No, that's scary…"

Harry blinked. That's odd. "Anyway, let's go find another hotel."

He strode forward quite suddenly, and Gabrielle latched onto his arm to keep up. "Can we go see Sparkles?" she asked.

"That's a long walk," he said. "I don't really think I can be bothered right now. And won't you get tired?"

"I'm not tired at all," she said. "I slept in the car."

"Fair point."

With some reluctance on Harry's part, they set off towards the grove where Sparkles slept. Much as he didn't want to go for a long walk, though, he started to think that he couldn't wait to leave Aalborg.