Chapter 10
Harry sipped his coffee with a lustful moan. It was black and bitter, its acrid heat burning down his throat and seeping through his body in a chemical haze. His muscles unknotted, and he felt the ache from yesterday's migraine - untouched by standard headache potions - starting to clear from his mind.
"Sir?" Alex hovered, arms filled with assorted papers and parchments.
Harry held up a hand, stopping any conversation from beginning. "No. I was up most of the night dealing with Connor's food poisoning from that fucking hospital sandwich. Right now, the most important thing is for me to have an entire pot of coffee and a large hot breakfast. Everything else can wait."
Alex opened his mouth to speak.
"Everything." Harry gave him a stern look, then went back to his quiet meditation on the wonders of the black gold contained in his cup, and how its absence really did make the heart grow fonder.
Pursing his lips, Alex put the morning reports on the sideboard, and sat down to have his own breakfast. He kept an eye on the boy at the head of the table, and his lips twitched faintly at the appreciative noises he made after each sip or bite. Each obscene sound was made all the more humorous by the perfect table manners Harry sported, Alex's teaching having taken firm root. If you weren't watching the child's face, you wouldn't even realise the sounds had come from him. It was like being stuck in some twisted food based porn movie, but there was no sex, and more bacon.
Sergei walked in, smirking slightly as Harry wrapped an arm around his plate and hunched over it protectively.
"I'm going to assume we have the morning off?"
Alex scowled slightly. "You might. I have a lot to organise."
Sergei chuckled and toasted his friend with his coffee mug. "Sucks to be you." He took a deep swig, then turned to Harry. "We dealing with Michaels today?"
Harry lit up. "I'd almost forgotten about him in all the fuss yesterday!" He gleefully shovelled the rest of his breakfast into his mouth, and tossed back the last of his coffee. Shoving his chair back, he practically skipped from the room to shower and dress.
Sergei watched him go with a fond smile. "I'm still not sure we should be letting him have coffee."
Alex shrugged, engrossed in the lists he was scribbling in his notebook. "Do you want to tell him he can't have it?"
The Russian paused. "Good point." His eyes gleamed as an idea made itself known.
Glancing up, Alex blanched. "No," he hissed. "Whatever it is, don't. I am not scraping you off the floor if you piss off the boss just because you felt the urge to prank him."
Sergei gave him an innocent look and sipped his coffee.
The warehouse was cold, damp, and dirty, and Harry looked around with approval.
Vahan and his Hounds moved further into the building, their footsteps echoing around the open space as booted feet impacted rough concrete. The morning light struggled weakly through the filthy skylights high above their heads, and the scratch and rustle of rodents scavenging in the random trash that littered the room in piles added to the abandoned feeling of the place.
A muffled groan was the only indicator of other life in the building.
Anthony Michaels hung from his wrists, his bare feet barely sweeping the ground, naked but for a worn pair of cotton boxers that were probably white once upon a time, but were now a yellowy grey colour. His toes were straining to lift his body enough to take the strain from his shoulders, and Harry cocked his head in interest as they gave out, dropping him a few centimetres. The boy listened to the wheezing of compressed lungs with delight.
Alex conjured a simple armchair for Harry, and took his position behind his employer's left shoulder.
Sitting himself down, Harry crossed one leg over the other, and folded his hands calmly in his lap; while Sergei circled the vulnerable man, checking on the various cuts, burns, and bruises he'd left the day before yesterday. He waited until Harry was settled and had nodded to him, then whipped the blindfold off the prisoner.
"Hello, Mr Michaels." Harry spoke smoothly, his voice cold enough to give Lucius Malfoy the chills. "Do you understand why you are here?"
Michaels looked at the tiny boy, and closed his eyes. "You're Vahan," he stated flatly, his throat raw from screams and dehydration.
Harry chuckled mockingly. "Don't be absurd. I merely represent him. Though I can assure you, my employer is much more terrifying than I could ever aspire to be. Of the two of us, I'm the reasonable one." He paused, taking a sip of tea from the cup that Alex had produced from seemingly nowhere, and sighed happily as he rested the cup back on the saucer. "Thank you, Mr Charleston, that's lovely." He returned his attention to the hanging man. "My employer has requested I interrogate you about what we found in your basement. I must say, I had not expected to find eight children amongst the inventory. Care to shed some light on the situation?"
Michaels looked at Harry in confusion. "Kids? What the fuck are you talking about? I don't deal in kids!" He jerked slightly, twitching in agitation.
Studying the man over the rim of his teacup, Harry raised an eyebrow. "And yet…"
Michaels glared. "I'm telling you, I don't do kids. Not ever. I don't know what you're talking about, but whatever it was, it wasn't me! I pointed the cops your way, yeah, but that's it!"
Harry scoffed mentally. For a lifelong criminal with such a vicious reputation, the man was all too willing to talk. Pity, really, he'd been looking forward to seeing Sergei work. He sighed and nodded slightly to Sergei. Michaels was telling the truth.
The Russian grunted slightly, and unhooked the injured man before dumping him in the rickety wooden chair Alex had conjured out of the man's line of sight. Alex wrapped a rough wool blanket around Michaels' shoulders, and handed him a teacup that matched Harry's, steam curling playfully above the surface of the liquid.
Michaels looked at them in confusion, jerking his gaze away from the scowling Sergei. He turned back to Harry, shaking hands lifting the warm drink to his lips. It wasn't snowing yet, but the temperatures were dropping fast, and he was ridiculously grateful for the small comfort.
Harry watched the man sip, letting the silence stretch. Finally, Michaels shifted, flicking a nervous glance at Harry's implacable green gaze.
He cleared his throat. "Toby March."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"My second. I reckon that he's the one you're looking for. I didn't know he was doing that; if I had, I would have shot the bastard myself." He scowled, pulling the blanket tighter around himself and taking another sip. "He came to me about seven months ago, talking about branching out, using the basement to get some extra income. He's been with me since the beginning, I trusted him, so I didn't question it, just ok'd it and left him to it. I thought he was growing weed or something, not this." He looked sickened. "Fuck, how many kids did you say there were?"
"Eight. Four boys, four girls. All aged between four and ten. He appears to have been selling time with them, and all will require extensive medical treatment."
Michaels rubbed a hand over his face. "Fuck," he muttered again. He looked back at Harry, staring the boy firmly in the eye. "I'll give you everything I know on March. That fucker deserves what's coming to him."
Harry cocked his head intently. "I assure you, Mr Michaels, you are in no position to bargain. You were dead the moment you spoke to the police about me. Giving me information about Mr March will not save you."
Michaels shook his head. "I know that; I'm not trying to bargain. Though a quick death would be appreciated, if you were feeling generous." He flashed a faint smile. "No, I just want that sick bastard dead for what he did. You don't do that shit to kids; it's not right."
Harry considered for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. Start talking."
The next two hours were filled with detailed information. Most of it, Harry already knew from his own investigations, but he was pleased that Michaels obviously wasn't holding back. The man listed habits, schedules, bolt holes and ex-girlfriends; every detail he could think of, no matter how insignificant it might seem. When he finally wound down, Harry was grudgingly impressed at how much their file had been supplemented.
"Thank you for your help, Mr Michaels." He nodded slightly. "Outside, you will see a car waiting for you. It will take you to your - former - home, where you will pack a bag of clothes. It will then take you to the airport where a ticket will be waiting for you at the desk. You will get on the plane, and you will not come back. If you set foot in the United Kingdom again, or try to re-establish your business connections here, you will be hunted down without mercy. Do you understand?"
Michaels stared at him in shock. "You're letting me go?"
"Would you rather I didn't?"
The stunned man shook his head vigorously. "No! I'm grateful, really, just shocked. I didn't expect to be leaving here alive."
Harry hummed lightly. "This will be your only chance to do so. The only reason I'm letting you go is because of the thoroughness of the information you provided regarding Mr March. Though of course, should it turn out that you've lied to me…"
Michaels shook his head again. "I didn't. Thank you, for this chance. You'll never see or hear from me again, and I wish you all the best with March. Give him a few for me." He stood, pulling the blanket closer around himself, and began walking to the door, wincing gingerly as his battered body protested.
"Oh, Mr Michaels?" Harry called.
Michaels half turned, only to drop screaming to the ground, clutching his bloody knee when the bullet ripped through it, shattering the joint.
"Just something to remind you why you don't ever want to cross me or my employer," Harry smiled angelically, watching the man crawling pitifully to the door. He turned to Sergei, scolding him lightly. "Sergei, you take the blanket back, then shoot him. Now we have to do more laundry!"
The older man rolled his eyes, holstering his weapon. "You're just sore because you didn't get to practice your deboning technique on his hands, and you're going to be too busy to do it to March."
Harry pouted slightly. "True, but that's only because I'll be flat on my back while Marcel does his best Frank N Furter impression under the banner of 'healing' me."
The older men both paused, and looked at each other, before bursting out laughing.
"Oh, Merlin, I don't think I'll be able to look at him the same way!" Alex chuckled.
Sergei looked faintly pained, for all that he was chortling as well. "I really did not want to imagine what he was wearing under his robes, but now it won't go away. That was cruel, Boss, very cruel."
Harry smiled serenely. "You can Obliviate yourself when you get home if you need to." They moved to their own car. "Alex, make sure the ticket is waiting for Michaels. I'm thinking, Rio de Janeiro. Organise a packet for him too, passport, new ID, papers, a little cash to get him started, and the contact details for a doctor to see to his knee. Make sure the doctor knows to leave a limp."
Marcel stood with his hands on his hips, glaring down at an unimpressed Harry.
"How could you let him go? You even gave him money and paid for a doctor for him! After he did that to those poor children!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "And if I ever need eyes in that part of the world, I can call in a favour and he won't dare to refuse. It was a risk, I admit, but a calculated one. Besides, it wasn't him; he didn't even know about it, and was only too happy to squeal on the person he reckons did. We also tagged him magically, so we can find him easily if he causes problems later. Now, I had an idea. You need help caring for the Nestlings, and I need healing. I'm not sure when I'll next have the time to do it, so we'll do it now. How would you feel about Mama Andrews coming to help? She can look after Connor as well, and start instructing him when she isn't busy helping you."
Marcel frowned. "I could work with her, but what about Alex and Sergei? What will they be doing?"
"Keeping my business running. I'll be vulnerable for weeks, I can't let it get out that I'm indisposed, not if I want to avoid endless pissing contests when I reappear."
Marcel nodded slowly. "Alright. If you can get her here, I should be able to work with her. Elise is doing better, too. The altered sedative seems to have done the job."
Harry smiled faintly, pleased; he'd been worried about the girl. "Good. How soon do you think the Nestlings can be woken up?"
Flicking thoughtfully through his charts, Marcel sighed. "About the same time you'll be done with your primary healing, though I'd like to keep them under a little longer than that if you'd permit it. They'll be easier to manage if we wake them one at a time, and I think they'll respond better if you're there."
Sighing heavily, Harry closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his unruly hair. "Do what you think is best. I defer to you in matters of healing." He caught the gleeful look budding on the Healer's face. "Within reason." He smirked at Marcel's pout, then turned to go track down Alex.
His ever efficient Butler was currently in the office on the phone to the school, arranging Harry's withdrawal. He waited patiently until Alex hung up, then cleared his throat. "I was thinking we should get Mama Andrews here to help Marcel, and maybe take over meals. I thought she could handle Connor's introduction training too. I know I've piled a lot on you lately, I thought you'd appreciate sharing the load a bit. Thoughts?"
Alex smiled gratefully. "That would be appreciated, Sir. I can handle it all, but a respite would be welcome. How do you want me to approach it?"
Harry closed his eyes and thought for a moment. "Charm your voice, pretend to be Mr Smith. Tell her you rescued some muggle children and are magically healing them from their trauma, but the Healer needs some help, since I'll be doing my healing too. Feel free to mention Connor, she'll go ballistic if she doesn't get to meet him soon anyway. Spin it however you like, but I'm sure she'll agree, even when you insist on an Obscurari Locus Charm." He massaged his neck, more tired than he should be for the early hour. "She'll probably bring Daniel, maybe Greg as well. While she's here, I want you and Sergei to deal with March, and do your best to root out any others that might cause problems. Keep up Vahan's presence, basically. While I'm out of commission, you and Sergei have authority to do whatever you think necessary, but I want a complete report on all actions and why. That said, I don't want Mama Andrews or Daniel to know about my work. Feel free to enlist Greg if you need him and you can get away with it, but try to keep things as separate as possible." He stood, walking to the door. Pausing with one hand on the frame, he turned back. "I know you'll be busy, but if you have the time, see if you can start working out who else might be using kids like this. I want to put together a list. The ones in whore houses and the like, we'll put the information together and let the cops deal with it, but if you stumble across any on the street, I'd like to assess them personally before deciding on a course of action." He chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Actually, add any littlies you find on the street, whether they're working or not."
Alex shifted. "Age cap?"
Harry frowned. "Thirteen. Give priority to the younger ones."
"Alright. Should I stock up on supplies here too, in preparation?"
"Yeah. Do the same at The Haunt, just in case. I don't know if we'll find any magical kids or not, but I want to be prepared if we do. Keep checking with the Ministry about House Elves too."
"You're doing your healing now?"
Harry nodded. "No time like the present, and Marcel has a few hours before his next rounds with the kids."
"I'm assuming you want to get the worst out of the way before Mama Andrews comes?"
Harry nodded again. "It'll be bad enough having her fussing over me while I'm recovering, I don't need her doing it beforehand too." He took a deep breath. "Do what you can for Bradshaw too, yeah?"
"Yes, Sir." Alex smiled sadly at the boy in the doorway. He looked so fragile, shoulders hunched in apprehension of the pain he knew he was about to endure, but trying so hard to project his usual calm confidence. "We'll look after everything. Nobody will ever know you weren't around."
Harry nodded once more, then set his shoulders and exited the room.
The master bedroom had been set aside as Harry's, and he looked around in approval. He'd been too exhausted to pay any attention to the décor the night before, but now he could see what a beautiful job Alex had done. He hoped that Narcissa Malfoy had such exquisite taste in what she was doing at the penthouse.
He started stripping off his clothes, and pulled on some comfortable pyjama pants, leaving his chest bare since Marcel said his clothes would be ruined anyway.
His eyes skimmed around the room, taking in the utterly decadent King sized bed, dark wood bookshelves that matched the bedframe and writing desk, and a small fireplace with a settee and two armchairs in front of it that just begged to be curled up in on a cold winter evening. The walk in wardrobe was behind a discrete door near the entrance to the bathroom. It was a massive room, even for a Master Suite, but Harry supposed it was intended as a kind of 'parent's retreat'. The obscenely large ensuite with two person spa bath and the shower with duel heads certainly supported that theory.
The room was done in soft shades of sea blues and greens, with various darker shades of grey as accents, and wooden furniture adding a warmth to the otherwise cold space. Thick cream carpet in some ridiculously soft material covered the floor, and Harry couldn't help but scrunch his toes into it as he took off his shoes and socks. Luxurious fabrics on the bed and settee, and their profusion of pillows and cushions, made the room a tactile delight as well as soothing to the eyes.
Harry slipped between the green silk sheets and groaned in pleasure. The firm mattress supported his slight weight comfortably, and the plush pillow top cradled him softly, leaving him feeling like he was resting on a cloud. He ran a hand over the dark grey duvet cover, amused that Alex had found one that actually felt like suede (though it clearly wasn't). He had no idea what the material actually was, but he didn't doubt that it was hellishly expensive. He ran his hand over it again, enjoying the texture. Whatever it was, he liked it, and in some bizarre way patting it actually soothed him. He decided not to dwell on it, and simply enjoyed the sensation.
Marcel entered the room with a tray of potions, Connor and Sergei trotting after him.
"Do you want me to explain the process, Harry?" Marcel asked as he sat the tray on the bedside.
"Please," Harry murmured. "Just give me a minute first."
The Healer nodded, and continued fussing about in preparation.
"Connor, I'm going to be sick for a little while. While I'm being healed, I want you to do what Sergei and Alex tell you to do. Alex is trying to get Mama Andrews to come and help, and if she comes, I want you to be on your best behaviour for her too, but it's very important to me that she doesn't know any details about how I know your dad, or the sort of work my men do, alright? The same goes for Daniel, if he comes with her. If they ask any questions, shrug, say you don't know, and direct them to Alex and Sergei. Do you understand?"
Unseen by the child, Sergei was flicking his wand, placing the magical gag on him.
Connor nodded, his eyes wide. He felt a burst of pride that Mr Harry was trusting him to keep his secrets. "Yes, Sir. I won't tell anyone anything."
Harry nodded with a smile. "Good. Now, I won't see you until I'm a bit better, but Alex and Sergei will still be giving me reports. I expect to hear that you are working hard on all your lessons, not just the fun ones." He levelled a stern look at his ward, but it gentled at the frantic nodding. "Good. You're a smart boy, I'm sure you'll do well. Now, one last thing; nobody else knows I'm your guardian, so it would be a bit strange if they heard you calling me Sir. While you're right to do it in private or if you start working for me when you're older, for now I want you to call me Harry."
Connor beamed. "I want to work for you when I'm older, you're the coolest! I'll study really hard and make you proud of me, you'll see!"
Harry chuckled. "I believe you. Now, go on. I have to talk to Sergei."
Connor nodded and turned to leave, before spinning back at the last moment and hugging a startled Harry tightly. "Get well soon," he whispered, then dashed out the door.
Sergei grinned at Harry's slightly ruffled look. "Cute kid you've got there."
Harry gave him a dirty look. "Quite. Now, Alex has instructions for what I want done, but there's something else I need you to handle. Send a message to Mr South, let him know I'm away for the next couple of months, but that once I'm back I'll meet with him to fulfil my end of the vow. Make it sound like something unexpected came up if you can, I'd rather not have him pissed at me. I also want you to keep an eye on Daniel while he's here. He's curious, and very smart. If any of them will figure out our business, it'll be him, and I don't want that. He's too soft hearted to be involved in our line of work, and he'd flip on me eventually. If you can get a line on what the Andrews angle is too, I'd be pleased. I haven't been able to work out what they want. My current theory is the Boy-Who-Lived hook."
Sergei nodded. "Anything else?"
"I want one of you to check in with me regularly. You'll both be too busy for body guard duties, but I doubt that will be an issue since I won't be going anywhere. I also want to do a bit of a recruitment drive when I'm up and about again, keep an eye out for candidates while you're going about your business."
Sergei grunted. "Magical or muggle?"
"Both. I need to start preparing for when I'll be going to Hogwarts, it's only a year and a half away. When I go, you and Alex will manage the bulk of my business in both worlds. Consider this a test run."
Sergei smirked. "I'm flattered. Keep it up, and I might think you actually like me!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't get too excited. Marcel?"
The Healer turned to Harry, handing him a goblet filled with a revolting smelling potion that was a disturbing shade of chartreuse with orange flecks. "Basically, we're forcing your body to grow to what it would have been if you'd lived in perfect conditions your entire life. The potions will stimulate your DNA, returning it to its ideal state, and your body will reform to match. I won't lie, it's going to hurt like hell, and I can't sedate you for it. It also won't help any hereditary conditions, but we can assess you afterwards and see what further healing you need, if any."
Harry frowned. "Is this standard healing?"
Marcel shook his head. "No. Not only would it not work once you hit puberty, but with the amount of pain it causes, that potion is technically illegal."
Harry looked amused. "Technically?"
"Alright, very illegal. But I assumed you'd rather have a bout of bad pain now followed by a functional body, rather than end up with a permanent colostomy collection spell in your thirties. Or any of the other issues you would have developed, for that matter. Was I wrong?"
Harry shook his head. "No, you weren't. How long will the pain last?"
"The initial potion will burn through your system in two days. That one will be uncomfortable, but not too painful. It'll 'mark' all of the cells that are damaged. The potion I'll give you after that's done will stimulate the changes. That's the bad one. The pain will be worst in the first twenty four hours, but will gradually decrease over a period of a week. The third potion will stabilise the changes. It'll make you sleep for another week while the changes settle and the earlier potions are neutralised. After that, it's a matter of rest, nutrition and physical therapy to get you used to your new body and build you up to a healthy weight. You'll even be free of any scars that you have. Won't that be nice?" Marcel smiled, all teeth and manic glee.
Harry looked perturbed. "Vanity is not an attractive quality, you know that, right?"
Marcel sniffed. "Who needs attractive qualities when you're as pretty as I am? Now drink your potion, you ungrateful brat."
"Sure thing, Dr Furter!" Harry muttered under his breath.
Sergei chuckled. "Ni Pukha, Ni Pyera, Boss!"
Harry lifted his goblet in a mocking toast. "K chyortu!" He threw back the potion, gagging and fighting to keep it down. "Oh, that is vile!"
Marcel grinned and took the goblet, returning it to its tray. "Really? Doesn't bother me at all!"
Harry gave him a flat look. "That's because I drank it."
Marcel nodded peaceably. "Like I said; doesn't both me."
Harry grimaced as his muscles began to ache and tremble, his stomach cramping, and a heavy sweat broke out all over his body. He could feel it building, and he knew it was going to get a lot worse before it was done. Laying back with a groan, he prepared himself for what would almost certainly be the worst two and a half weeks of his life so far.