Chapter 22
"Explain, please." Harry sat at the desk in his office, leaning back in his chair.
"Parseltongue is the language of snakes, and a person who is able to speak Parseltongue is called a Parselmouth. It used to be a highly regarded skill, and considered proof of being a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, since his line was the only one that reliably produced them. There were a few others that would pop up here and there, but they almost always married into Slytherin's line once provided with the right incentive, keeping the gift strong. It's always been thought to be a Dark ability, but it wasn't until He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came to power that it was viewed with fear and suspicion." Alex sipped his tea, eyeing his employer thoughtfully.
"So if people find out I'm a parselmouth, they will assume I'm an Heir of Slytherin or somehow related to Voldemort?" Leaning forward, Harry rubbed his temples. "Also, please stop with the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and You-Know-Who rubbish. All those hyphens give me a headache. I understand the need to do so where others could hear, but just between us I'd prefer you just use his name."
Alex nodded. If he was discomforted by the order, he gave no indication of it. "Is it possible you are a descendant?"
Harry shrugged. "No idea. I haven't encountered any rumours to that effect in the books about me I've read, but they are so wildly inaccurate I wouldn't trust them anyway. I could probably look though some of the books left in my family vaults, I'm sure at least one of them has some sort of genealogy."
Shot sat up. "I could do it. I need a new project anyway, my brain feels like it's melting. All the jobs you've given me lately have been really basic."
Harry nodded. "Thank you. I'll arrange for Gutshank to trawl my vaults for anything relevant. Actually, the Goblins should have some sort of record, so they can trace Heirs and the like. You should try to compare the two results."
Huffing, Shot folded her arms crossly. "I don't tell you how to Crime Lord, don't tell me how to Data Mine! As if I would need to be reminded of something so basic!" Subsiding into offended muttering, she sank back into her chair with a scowl.
Grinning faintly, Harry nodded in apology. "Alright. I'll leave it in your capable hands then. Let me know if you need anything."
Sergei had remained silent until now, deep in thought. "I think we should get Marcel in on this," he stated suddenly.
Harry raised his eyebrows, then summoned Jinky. Scribbling a note, he passed it to the waiting elf and sent him to the Healer.
A few minutes were spent in idle conversation, mainly catching Harry up on what Alex had done to settle the new birds and snake into the Manor.
The wards alerted the team to Marcel apparating into the courtyard, and they waited patiently for him to make his way to the office.
"Alright, who's dying?" He chirped as he flounced through the door, his dark blue robes swirling dramatically around his feet.
"Nobody, yet," Harry stated dryly, gesturing to a seat. "Though apparently the Wizarding World may die of shock when they discover their Saviour is a Parselmouth."
The look of shock on the Healer's face was enough to send Shot into peals of laughter, particularly when he missed the chair and landed on the floor with a thud.
"You're a what?" He asked faintly.
"A Parselmouth." Harry repeated calmly. "We're looking into possible relation to Slytherin, but Sergei suggested getting you in on this conversation, presumably in case we missed anything."
Marcel looked over at a brooding Sergei. "You know something?"
Sergei grunted. "Know, no. Suspect, possibly."
There was a moment of silence while everyone waited for him to elaborate, but he remained silent.
"Well?" Marcel prompted.
"Do you have a copy of the results from when you scanned the Boss's scar during his healing?" The Russian asked, his brows drawing together as he tried to puzzle through what was bothering him.
Marcel raised an eyebrow, but summoned Soot from The Haunt and requested Harry's file. He handed it over, watching quietly as Sergei read through the relevant parts.
"Sergei," Harry was getting impatient. "Care to share with the rest of the class?"
"I don't think you're related to Slytherin, or if you are, it's coincidental. What do we know about the night you got your scar?"
Harry's eye twitched, his irritation at the evasions increasing. "Not much. Voldemort came to my house, killed my parents, and disappeared. We have no proof of what happened between my parents dying and the house exploding though, so for all we know he might have performed an adoption ritual on me and screwed it up. Hell, he might have dressed in drag and done the hula and I destroyed him in a bout of hysteria. Who knows? Why?"
"I think that something might have attached itself to your scar. Something of his. These scans," he gestured to the file, "they don't read like you. Even accounting for the fact that it's a curse scar, there should be some kind of baseline that reads like you. But there's nothing. It's like-" He paused, trying to find the right words. "It's like it's reading a different person almost. Or part of one?"
Marcel sat bolt upright, his eyes wide. "Say that again," he demanded.
Sergei looked at him warily. "It's like it's reading a different person almost. Or part of one."
"Puff!" The Healer shouted, summoning a rather startled looking elf. "Go into my Locked Library, and bring me the book titled Secrets of the Darkest Arts. Be careful of the wards, they're nasty."
The elf nodded quickly, causing its bat-like ears to flap against its face, before disappearing with a pop. It reappeared a minute or so later, looking slightly worse for wear.
"Are you alright?" Marcel frowned, taking in the slightly singed appearance and the smoke rising from one ear tip.
"Yes Master Healer, Sir," the elf replied softly. "Puff will be fine."
"Alright. Thank you. Go tend to your injuries." He dismissed the elf, and began flicking feverishly through the pages, looking for something in particular. "Ah!" Leaning forward, he hunched over the book in his lap, mouthing the words as he skimmed through them. "Oh, I really hope I'm wrong," he moaned, running a hand through his hair.
"Why don't you explain what you've found, before I have to find myself a new Healer?" Harry snapped, throwing his pen on the desk in frustration.
"A horcrux." Marcel stated flatly.
"Aside from a whole lot of Not Good, what's that?" Asked Shot, almost as irritated as Harry at the lack of clear answers.
"A horcrux is a piece of soul, deliberately split away and stored in an external object. It's theorized that it could save someone from death, effectively anchoring them to this world so they can't pass on."
Harry sat silently for a moment, processing the patterns. "And you think my scar may be one?"
"Well, it's theorized that the scar is a result of a rebounded Killing Curse, but that's known for not leaving any marks. So even if he did use the Killing Curse, clearly something else caused that wound. We almost lost you during your healing because something in it was actively fighting being removed from your body, so if it is a soul fragment, it's possible that it might even be partially sentient. It's also most likely parasitic, leeching small amounts from your magical core. It's possible that the Parseltongue is stemming from a slight bleed across, since the Dark Lord was known to be a Parselmouth."
"So a horcrux container can be a living vessel as long as it has a magical core?"
"There isn't much information about them, but I would suppose so based on your results."
They sat in silence for a long moment, before Shot snorted derisively. "Well that's stupid!"
Everyone looked at her in bewilderment.
She held up her hands, shaking her head. "Seriously, think about it! The whole point is to be immortal, right? And a horcrux is an anchor? Well then why would you put it in something living? You'll only be anchored as long as it's still alive, and if it's leeching off the vessels core, then it will reduce the vessels lifespan anyway!"
Harry snorted in amusement. "Good point. Alright, so how do we test if it's a horcrux? And if it is, how do we get rid of it?"
Marcel drew his wand. "I don't know of any specific spell that will show it up, but I'd like to try a few charms?"
Harry nodded and sat back calmly, watching as Marcel circled his desk and stood next to him.
Pointing his wand carefully at the scar, he tapped it lightly. "Specialis Revelio." The charm connected with the scar, but fizzled. Marcel frowned, and leaned slightly closer. Tapping the scar again, he tried a different charm. "Anima Revelare." The spell connected, and a sickly green light spilled from the scar, pulsing malevolently.
Marcel slumped back onto the desk, his wand held in limp fingers between his legs. "Oh, that's not good."
Harry sighed. "Positive, then?" He glanced around at the pale and drawn features of his people. "How do we remove it?"
Marcel moved sluggishly back to his chair. "Without killing you? I have no idea."
Harry pursed his lips. "Well, give it some thought. In the meantime, Shot, I want you to find out everything you possibly can about that night. Chase down every rumour, theory, and accepted truth. I want concrete facts, accept nothing as truth without it. Find out why Voldemort went after my family personally as well. Hell, investigate Voldemort too, from birth to explosion. Trace every person and event you think might be related. Are you up for it?"
Shot looked slightly overwhelmed at the scale of the task, but unnervingly eager for the challenge. "Sure! Timeframe?"
Harry shook his head. "Take as long as you need. Triple check everything and everyone."
She grinned impishly. "Even you?"
Harry nodded. "Even me. I still want you to check my genealogy. It's possible there's some connection between Voldemort and myself, and if there is, I want to know about it."
Sobering, the tech genius nodded. "I'll get right on it. It's going to take ages though, to dig this far back and this deep."
Harry stared back gravely. "Whatever it takes."
Harry looked over the three Nestlings that arrived the same time as Alice, and nodded to himself.
"You've all done very well with your in-house training, so it's time to see how well you can apply it."
Sophie, Lizzie, and Brian looked back at him expectantly.
Harry motioned for Alex to distribute the bags they had prepared for them. "Inside each bag, you will find a mobile phone, disposable camera, food and water for twenty four hours, a notepad and a couple of pens. Anyone want to take a guess at today's task?" He looked at them expectantly.
Lizzie shifted, nervously tucking her blond hair behind her ear. "Spying?"
Harry grinned at the eight year old. "Close enough." He handed her a small chocolate bar and a bottle of juice as a reward. "Today, you're going to pick a person at random on the street, and you're going to follow them. Your task is to find out as much information as possible about that person in twenty four hours. After that time, you will make your way back here. Use the mobile to call for a pick up if you are more than three hours away. You will be completely alone for this task, and you can approach it however you think best provided you don't blow your mission. Whoever gets the most complete and accurate information will win a prize. Believe me, you want it. All information gathered will be checked, so make sure it's right; got it?"
The three Nestlings nodded eagerly, and quickly looked through their bags. They'd been drilled relentlessly, and knew better than to accept an unchecked kit.
Harry waited until everyone had checked their packs and phone batteries, then smiled. "You have ten minutes to go change clothes and get anything else you think you'll need from your rooms. Meet back here and we will take you to the drop zone. Remember, you'll be completely on your own for this task, so don't expect back up. And no, you can't work together." He smirked at Sophie and Brian. The two were practically inseparable, and according to Alice had been since they were five years old. At eleven, they had quite a history of mischief to their names.
While the Nestlings disappeared, Harry and the Hounds drew straws for who was going to follow which child. All three of them would be using heavy duty camouflage charms developed by Shot to help them avoid notice, and they would be discretely trailing the kids to make sure they didn't get into any more trouble than they could manage.
Hearing their charges returning, the three men braced themselves for a very long day.
Harry sat behind his desk, and listened to Sophie reporting everything she had discovered on her target the day before. Harry had trailed her, so he knew all of it already, but she had no idea of that.
He had to admit he was impressed. She'd used every skill they'd taught her - and a few besides - and had accumulated a significant amount of information; she'd even managed to sort and present it logically. She hadn't had time to put it into a proper report format, but she'd done very well in the time available.
"You did very well, Sophie. Breaking into her house and getting all of her medical and banking details was an excellent touch. I'm impressed you managed to do it while she was home, too. Can you think of anything you might have done better, or some piece of information you might have missed?"
The little girl stared at the floor and chewed her lip as she thought. "Maybe, I could have gotten her work passwords? She writes them all down because she has a really bad memory."
Harry smiled. "And how would you do that? What benefit would there be if you did?"
Sophie frowned, mulling it over and fiddling with her notebook. "Well, the security isn't very tight around her office, but she works in the IT department for an antiques house. So if we got her log in details, we could use it as an in for the system to spy on their acquisitions and sale lists? Might help us find things for other clients?" She looked hopeful.
"Excellent!" Harry praised, beaming. "That's very well thought out, good work. How do you think you might be able to get her system details?"
Sophie looked blank.
Taking pity on her, Harry smiled gently. "If you were older, you could pretend to be a delivery person. Packages or flowers work well, or food. Low level staff like a janitor or intern is also a good option. At your current age your choices are a bit more limited, so it's worth playing up your youth. You could pretend to be lost, or a relative of another employee. Do you understand?"
Nodding slowly, it was clear that she was trying, but didn't really get it.
Harry huffed a small laugh. "Alright, I want you to put together a list of ways you might be able to get access to a person's office or desk, and what you would need to pull it off. As many as you can think of. I'll pick it up next week."
Pouting, the girl nodded in acceptance. "Yes, Sir." She returned to her seat next to Brian, and leaned against him.
Harry took a moment to look over the three children in his office, then traded glances with Alex and Sergei. Both men nodded discretely, confirming that none of the children had cheated.
"You've all done very well. I promised that whichever of you got the most complete and accurate information would win a prize, and I've decided on a winner. Sophie, your acquisition of medical and banking details, coupled with your clear reporting tipped the balance. Congratulations; you've just won yourself an ident-packet, and £5000 in a bank account." He paused, watching her eyes widen in shock.
"An ident-packet? I get my first alias?" She squeaked.
Harry grinned and nodded. "With all relevant documents and paper trails. You're responsible for maintaining it, but I'd recommend you ask Alice for assistance until you've had more practice."
Sophie nodded, her short brown hair flopping wildly. A beaming grin split her face, and she could barely stop herself from bouncing in glee.
"Brian, Lizzie, you both did much better than I was expecting of you at this stage. Well done. You'll both be rewarded as well. You'll receive £1000 each." He smiled at their delight, then continued. "All three of you will start working for Vahan now that you've shown you can handle yourselves on low level jobs. You'll be paired with an older partner to help show you the ropes, listen to them and learn as much as you can. Remember that you're still novices, and you do not get any special treatment just because you're one of his Nestlings. If anything, you will be pushed harder to prove yourself trustworthy. Am I clear?"
All three children nodded fervently.
"Good. If I hear that any of you have been mouthing off or not obeying the chain of command, we'll have problems. You're bottom rung, make sure you don't forget it. Now, take the rest of the week to plan out your street alias, and present Alice with a list of anything you'll need that you don't already have. Bear in mind that all purchases and aliases will need to be approved beforehand, and you should take care that they don't lead back to your regular life in any way."
Lizzie looked up at him, a sly grin spreading across her lips. "So, we're like Secret Agents?"
Harry chuckled. "Close enough, I suppose. Now, who wants takeaway for dinner? I think you've earned it."