Chapter 12: The Spy (pt. 1)
The portkey dropped him off abruptly in the shadows of a dimly-lit alleyway, behind a small flat in the muggle parts of town. A contact of Dumbledore's met Remus there, standing at the mouth of the alleyway with keys to the hideout, a package from Dumbledore, and a thin stack of paperwork…
So the mission began on that dreary, dark morning in May, as he became Marco Dellucci: a graduate from the Neapolitan school of Magic with an apartment around the corner and a handful of faked documents to prove this.
He got settled in easily. By midday he had already managed to unpack all of his belongings, emptying out the only bedroom in his flat and warding it in preparation for the full moon. Dumbledore's package had come with a note that warned him to only unwrap the paper in case of an emergency, so he hid it away and focused a little more on his hideout's security. A few more stipulations were added to it, and then a couple more and another one… until Remus realised that the light falling into the room didn't look the way it had done when he'd first begun. It was getting dark.
Wait, what - already?
A glance at the time let Remus know that it was six o'clock – no wonder he was hungry. He hadn't eaten all day.
Remus threw on a light jacket before he left his flat, intending to just walk a few blocks until he found a place that sold takeout, but as he passed an edicola, he couldn't stop himself from making a little detour.
He bought a newspaper.
If he was being honest with himself, he wasn't really expecting to find anything in it. Even so, it still felt disappointing to get to the last page and know he'd wasted his money. Crushing the paper, Remus threw it away.
He told himself, frowning, that maybe he'd have better luck next time.
…
He had to admit: coming into this, Remus had severely underestimated how difficult it was going to be to get any scrap of information at all on the Crown Prince of the Red Kingdom and his daughter.
He'd thought: it's royal news – it should be everywhere, right?
… Wrong.
On the Red Kingdom side of things, most Dumbledore and he had been able to find had been official news, their greatest discovery by far being that the local press released birthday wishes for Princess Hel on Rose's birthday. Which was baffling. Apparently, it was a tradition that went back a long way – the King and Crown Prince each got birthday wishes too, on January 7th and December 22nd respectively – and Dumbledore had theorised that breaking the tradition would have been a lot more suspicious than continuing it… but even if that was the case, then why on earth hadn't they changed her birthday to something else? Changed it to anything else?
The coincidences were piling up too high to really just be coincidences, and Remus didn't get it: if Princess Hel truly was Rose Potter then they weren't even trying to pretend she wasn't the same child. What was up with that?
What were they playing at…?
Remus couldn't tell, but on the Sicilian side of things there was, if possible, even less to be found. Besides a handful of reported royal visits, usually involving one or more other royals, any scraps of information that bled down to the public were few, far between, and superficial. Prince Asriel was clearly a man who valued his privacy, and was intent on raising his daughter out of the spotlight. There were no interviews, no personal information or photographs, and no hints as to where he might find Rose…
Disappointing, Remus had thought to himself one morning as he stirred his coffee, staring blankly at another issue of the Red Kingdom's biggest newspaper… and odd.
True enough, he knew through his research by now that it wasn't entirely unheard of for children born to that particular royal family to be raised away from the public eye, pretty much a mystery until they were at least eleven… but it was very strange indeed to have so little information about the Crown Prince.
Dumbledore thought so too:
The previous Crown Prince – that is to say, Prince Eremiel, not his son Rasiel, who Remus could find virtually no mention of past the age of eight and up until his death some ten years later – had very much been in the spotlight ever since his eleventh birthday. From royal visits, to ugly family disputes to his courting of and marriage to a Veela-
People had known about him.
Shipped off to Sicily after his parents' deaths, the same could not be said about Prince Asriel. The man was a mystery. He rarely made official appearances, and there was no information out there about what he did in his downtime. No favourite foods, or hobbies.
No candid pictures in any of the tabloids, either.
It was the last one Remus found the weirdest. There should have been some at least if he was living in the area.
This lack of information lead him to wonder in the end… what if the reason why he'd managed to escape scrutiny for so long, and why nobody had seen much of him despite his presence in the area having been public knowledge for years now, was because Prince Asriel wasn't living in one of Sicily's magical territories? What if he was living among the muggles?
It was a theory that required some investigating, but luckily Dumbledore had entrusted him with a small phial of Felix Felicis before his departure. A drop of that should put him in the path of someone with relevant information…
…
Or at least… that had been the plan.
For better or for worse, Liquid Luck didn't always work in ways the drinker could anticipate – and so, to make a long story short, here he was: standing in front of the mirror and getting ready for his first day as a servant at the residence of one Princess Jophiel of the Red Kingdom.
Hair slicked back, wearing the white shirt and black trousers required as the under layer of his brand new uniform, Remus was in the middle of buttoning up a red waistcoat. On the chair next to him hung a red tailcoat trimmed with gold, a white bowtie to match the shirt, and white gloves. He was even wearing dress shoes.
He'd never looked so formal in his life!
Remus had just finished putting his gloves on when a knock sounded on the door. It was Gabriel – Princess Jophiel's butler. He inspected Remus's appearance, and apparently unable to find anything wrong with it, addressed him:
"Ready, Dellucci?"
"Yes, sir."
"Alright. Let me give you a tour, then." The butler moved out of the way and gestured at Remus to walk out into the hallway. His Italian had a distinctly German edge to it, but it was clear from the ease with which he spoke the language that he knew it well, "We've got about half an hour before Her Highness calls for tea, so we'll have to make do."
Half an hour later – and it was exactly half an hour, on the dot – they walked into what Remus now knew to be the servants' hall; a large rectangular room with a long table stretching out across the middle, chairs on either side of it and a couple of benches up against the wall. The room was bustling with activity and the buzz of conversation.
Over the noise, Remus could hear the sound of a bell ringing.
"Well, that's my cue. You just remember – should you come across Princess Jophiel or any other member of the royal household while you work, get out of the way, bow your head just so, and greet with Your Highness." With a fluid motion, Gabriel had pulled out his wand, levitated the silver tray sitting on the edge of the table and expertly manoeuvred it through the crowd towards them. He took hold of it and nodded to the right, "You go find Klara Müller. She'll show you the ropes."
With that he turned around and was gone, leaving Remus to wonder who Klara Müller was. Somebody pointed him in the direction of a portly woman dressed in the long, aproned uniform worn by the maids. She was sitting at the far end of the table, finishing up her lunch and using a napkin to wipe the corners of her mouth.
He made his way over.
"Excuse me. Are you Mrs. Müller, by any chance?"
"That's me." The maid turned around, eyeing him curiously. "And you're the new hire, I assume?"
Klara took his outstretched hand and shook it. Her hand was firm and callused, but warm like her eyes. She smiled.
"Well, I'm Klara. Do you only speak Italian?"
"I speak English. Only a little bit of German, I'm afraid."
"Then you'll learn by exposure." She clapped a hand on his back, getting up, and with a flick of her wand, directed her empty dishes into the sink. She tucked her wand back into her apron and gestured for Remus to follow her.
"Let me know if I'm talking too fast for you or if you need me to explain differently, okay?" Remus nodded. "Excellent. Now, you came in a little late so we'll just start with what needs to get done by afternoon, rather than over the entire day – just so you know, Her Highness adheres to a strict schedule, so you'd do well to be punctual. Now grab a brush. I'm afraid you're getting stuck with all the jobs nobody else wants to do. Think of it as a rite of passage."
…
So Remus spent his first day as a royal servant polishing shoes.
Many, many shoes.
Just… so many shoes.
By the end of it, his hands were red and raw and he couldn't get the smell of the polishing potion out of his nostrils, but dinner was a welcome reprieve. It offered him a chance to socialise and get to know some of his colleagues – as well as observe them.
Maybe, Remus thought optimistically, he'd even get to hear some interesting gossip.
"Who's that you've got there, oh lovely Klara?"
"New hire. His name is Marco. Marco, this flatterer over there is Frank." She narrowed her eyes at the man in question, "Don't let him fool you though, he's always trying to get out of some chore or the other."
"Ah, fresh meat!" Someone said, just as Frank covered his heart with his hand, closed his eyes, and dramatically announced: "Klara, you wound me!"
"I was wondering who Gabriel brought in. We don't usually get walk-ins. I'm Lars by the way, that's Hans." He nodded at the one who'd called him fresh meat, "And Agnes." The girl on his right. She was engrossed in a book (Wanderings with Werewolves, the official translation) and didn't seem to be paying attention.
Remus averted his gaze.
"Nice to meet you."
But half an hour later, it had become obvious to Remus that the only gossip anyone was interested in today was his own. Yes, he had tried to stir the conversation in another direction, but since it kept circling back to him anyway, he finally just gave up and did his best to answer their questions to the best of his ability:
No, he was not Sicilian. His family was from Naples, actually.
He'd gone to school in Naples – yes, that one. It was an excellent school for learning potions. He'd always been more into Defence and Runes, actually. Oh no, Professor Veleno had retired before Marco was eleven, so he'd never been taught by him. It was a pity.
His work on antidotes was really revolutionary, wasn't it?
By the time Remus managed to make his escape – off to the second floor with Agnes, to dust and clean the drawing room, where Princess Jophiel had apparently entertained a guest today – he felt exhausted.
There would be other opportunities, he told himself consolingly as he swept a couple of cookie crumbs off the tablecloth. As soon as the novelty wore off, he'd be able to find out more about Princess Jophiel – and through her – hopefully, Rose.
…
In the meantime, Remus threw himself into getting to know his colleagues.
Princess Jophiel's household – at least while she was here at her Sicily residence – consisted of thirteen servants, including himself. It hadn't taken him long to realise that there was a strict hierarchy to be observed, too.
At the very top – though Remus had only seen him twice so far, and had never actually spoken to him – was Princess Jophiel's personal servant: a man named Magnus.
Remus wasn't sure what Magnus actually did all day, as he didn't seem to interact with the rest of the staff at all, and could never be found doing any of the chores the rest of them always had their hands full of. He spent a lot of time outside instead, and when he was at home, he could usually be found shadowing Princess Jophiel.
Magnus the Mysterious (as Remus had taken to privately calling him) had apparently been a part of Princess Jophiel's household for over thirty-five years now, having been her husband's valet up until his death. His reliability and skillset had convinced Princess Jophiel to keep him on staff anyway, though once again, Remus wasn't entirely sure what that might actually mean.
Further down the ladder but still high up on the hierarchy, was Gabriel the butler, who had hired Remus and was in charge of all staff members. Then came the lower-ranking servants with an internal, if much looser, hierarchy of their own, which Marco was now a part of.
Separate from the rest were then the cook and kitchen maids, whom Remus was now making an effort to actively avoid. Emil the cook was somewhat of a potions enthusiast and had already tried to start several conversations about the school Marco had supposedly attended in Naples, but as Remus hadn't actually attended it, avoiding that topic of conversation was definitely for the best.
There was also a gardener who came in once a week, but he was locally hired and didn't live on the grounds like the rest of them did, so Remus didn't think he really counted as one of their numbers.
As he started to settle in and get to know everyone a little bit better, there were observations Remus couldn't help but make:
Some were of the more random and harmless variety, like the fact the Princess Jophiel – being rather taller than most – had specifically instructed her butler to only hire men who stood taller than her to work as her servants, while others… Remus didn't really know what to make of.
Apparently – a lot of her higher ranked servants had a military background, or were otherwise trained and experienced in fighting and battle magic. They were expected to double as bodyguards and protect Princess Jophiel and her household, and according to what he'd since learned, having nannies and governesses be combat-able was apparently also standard practice in the Red Kingdom… or at least, in its royal family.
A piece of Kingdom history Remus had been vaguely aware of already but hadn't understood the depth or impact of, had definitely been the Succession Conflicts. Officially there had been two of them in recent years, but the century following the end of the first Succession Conflict had still been filled with paranoia and murder attempts, despite two out of three crowned monarchs having managed to survive and make it to an old age despite their lack of magical abilities.
As the granddaughter of the woman who had ended the First Succession Conflict, Princess Jophiel had lived through a good portion of the aftermath, and had been around to experience the Second Succession Conflict in its entirety as well. That one – which had started with the then Crown Prince and his family being slaughtered – had directly involved Prince Asriel, whose disappearance had left the throne without an heir, resulting in a lot of infighting over who'd succeed King Rasiel.
Prince Asriel had put an end to that conflict by apparently killing a lot of people, but at least this meant that the relatives who remained were loyal to him and would never dare to even think of rebelling.
'Princess Hel' was as safe as she could be, but this was a cold comfort.
The Red Kingdom was not a safe place, and nor was it a kind one.
Remus had to look no further than Princess Jophiel to know that: the loss of both her sons and a large part of her family, including grandchildren, in a conflict that had dragged on for a little less than a century and a half had left her jaded and naturally suspicious of any newcomer.
Letting Dumbledore know all of this in a letter, Remus could only sincerely hope that Rose's experiences so far had been better.
Constantly having to worry about when the next assassin might strike was no way for someone to spend their childhood…
…
As the following few weeks passed, it became apparent that Klara had not been lying when she'd said that Princess Jophiel adhered to a strict schedule. The woman was very much a creature of habit:
Every morning she woke up at seven o'clock sharp… got dressed, had breakfast, and had by eight o'clock retired to her office to deal with the day's owls and correspondence. After she was done there, she went out for a walk accompanied by a servant before coming home at noon for lunch.
Depending on the day, what she did after lunch differed: on Wednesdays and Fridays, Princess Jophiel spent the afternoon with the Crown Prince's daughter, either in the drawing room, or otherwise making visits to various relatives and places. On Thursdays and Saturdays she mostly spent her afternoons inside – in the library, reading, or in the music room, having Magnus play the piano for her – but from Sunday until Tuesday Princess Jophiel wasn't there at all. She returned to the Red Kingdom to be with her family and take care of her social obligations.
This turned out to be a convenience to Remus, who had been wondering what he was supposed to do on the upcoming full moon anyway.
Being able to brew the wolfsbane potion – a relatively new invention, which hadn't even been on the market for a full year yet – would have made matters a lot less complicated… but Remus wasn't the most proficient potion-maker and the slightest mistake in brewing that potion could result in poisoning himself instead, so that option was nothing more than a pipe dream.
Besides, he'd never be able to afford even a fifth of the ingredients with any regularity, which was a problem when lycanthropy was very much a chronic condition that turned him into an uncontrollable monster once a month.
The fib of having caught a sudden cold could only be used so many times, but it would have to do for the time being.
At least he had luck on his side this time around: the full moon was on a Saturday this month, which would give him the time to get through the worst of it on his days off, and he could still site the sniffles should he need a little more recovery time by Wednesday.
He'd still have to worry about people getting suspicious eventually… but Remus was not intending to let it get to that point. He didn't usually work at any place for longer than half a year at a time, and even that was pushing it – and with Princess Jophiel he wanted to be extra careful.
Either way, around three months was all he could afford himself, and it would have to do.
There was no other choice.
On the work side of things, it all continued much as it had on the first day. With several weeks' worth of experience behind his back, it was now readily apparent to Remuus where exactly he placed on the pecking order: right at the very bottom. His days consisted of scrubbing windows and brushing carpets, cleaning out fireplaces (couldn't have any soot getting on royal robes) – and yes, even more shoe polishing.
Any menial task that nobody else wanted, or that the others didn't have the time for, was suddenly Remus's responsibility. It was hard and underappreciated work – made worse by the fact that there never seemed to come an end to it. Three weeks into this and there was still something that struck him as odd when it came to his workload… he'd struggled to come up with what it was at first – but the moment he'd noticed it was so obvious. He didn't know how he'd missed it.
And now that he'd made the connection, he couldn't stop thinking about it...
"Out with it, Dellucci. You look like you have a question."
It was Klara who had spoken, sitting next to him and holding up a knife to the light – inspecting it for imperfections. They were the unfortunates stuck with shining up the silverware today, another uninteresting task it hadn't taken Remus long to realise why nobody liked.
He put the fork he'd just finished polishing into the wicker basked and picked up the next one.
"It's nothing. I've just been thinking…" He pondered on his thoughts, wondering how to phrase this, "Wouldn't this usually be done by the house elves? Why are we doing it?"
The moment he looked back at Klara, he saw her giving him a weird look.
Was this another cultural thing? There had been a surprising number of such hurdles already, and it looked like he'd just stumbled across another one.
"House elves…?" She repeated, as if making sure she hadn't misheard him.
"Yes…?" Remus cleared his throat, "They usually serve ancient or wealthy families, right? Like this one?"
The Potters had had a house elf, and Remus could definitely remember Sirius griping endlessly about the one back at Grimmauld Place.
"Well, in some places – yes," Klara said as she shot him another look, then shook her head, "House elves… imagine that. I don't know where you got that idea, but you won't find any here – Her Highness doesn't like them, anyway. Besides, you don't pay a house elf. Not in money at least, and the whole point of having human servants is that you have to pay them. It's a show of wealth and status, you know?"
Remus didn't know, but nodded anyway.
The Red Kingdom was a weird place, he thought, not for the first time… a rich and ancient family without any house elves… imagine that.
… The Blacks and Malfoys would drop dead on the spot if they ever found out about it. The shock would do them in, for sure.
…
Despite the fact that Remus was obviously getting stuck with all the house elf chores, this did at least come in handy. The nature of his tasks meant that he was never in direct contact with the royal family, but it certainly offered plenty of opportunities for eavesdropping on his colleagues.
Gave him a much better and personal opinion on matters than he would've gotten by outright asking. So far there'd been plenty of interesting titbits:
The most interesting ones were the ones concerning the Crown Prince.
At the very least, it sounded like he genuinely did care about Rose, being notable for favouring a hands-on approach to parenting that his family wasn't generally known for. The little girl in Charlie's memories had definitely been comfortable and having fun, which did seem to point towards Prince Asriel taking good care of her.
Didn't change the fact that he had kidnapped her – but the fact that she wasn't being mistreated was at least an optimistic one. Meant that Remus and Dumbledore could afford to take their time and plan their actions properly.
Not that Remus wouldn't be prepared to just grab Rose and run should things get really out of hand, but given what Remus had heard about him, it didn't sound like Prince Asriel would take well to that at all.
Not so important to the mission, but still important to him personally was finding out the little things people knew about Rose. Things he should have known as her Uncle Moony, but had never had the chance to…
Like the fact that she loved raspberry bavarois. Or that she played the violin. Or that her best friend was a boy named Blaise – whom she apparently talked enough about that Princess Jophiel had made it her business to find out more about him. The fact that his mother was a witch of noble descent and pure blood had apparently been more important to her than the rumours going around that she had murdered each of her three husbands…
Still… all these little details really drove home how much of her childhood he'd already missed. And there was still so much more he didn't know about Rose – Did she have a favourite bedtime story? Any hobbies? Did she like flying, like James? Or was she more like Lily?
In another lifetime – in a kinder world – he would have been there to watch her grow up, alongside them. The thought weighed heavily on him and he knew that feeling guilty wouldn't change anything now, but maybe after all of this was over he could start making it up to her.
…
It was nearing the end of June, and Remus was starting to feel a little burnt out. Keeping up his investigation on top of working a job and juggling his private research, it was perhaps no wonder.
Like he did on all his days off, Remus returned to the hideout that weekend and the investigation into the case of Prince Asriel continued. He'd not told Dumbledore about his theory that the Crown Prince might be hiding among the muggles yet because he didn't want to waste his time like that – he had no evidence to support the claim, and there was no guarantee he'd even find anything in the muggle news anyway.
Still, he spent each weekend at the library, poring over piles upon piles of archived newspapers until it neared closing time, and then trudged home to continue doing just that until he fell asleep at the table and woke up the next morning with a painful crick in his neck.
There wasn't nearly enough time to get through it all, of course… since he had to do it while also going grocery shopping to keep himself from starving, cooking, and washing his clothes in preparation for the start of his working week on Tuesday. Unlike Princess Jophiel, he didn't have a small army of servants around to do it for him, so he had to fit it all into his regular schedule.
So the investigation was slow-going. He'd not found anything yet, but Remus had hope.
As he walked up to the checkout counter with another batch of newspapers – the copies he'd secretly made with a flick of his wand securely hidden inside his backpack – he noticed that the librarian who'd had the morning shift had already gone home and been replaced by Gianni.
"Oh, hello again!" Gianni waved at him as he approached, "I was wondering if I'd be seeing you today – we missed you last week, you know."
Last week he'd been a howling beast with a thirst for human meat, so it was no wonder. He'd spent the rest of the weekend and an additional few days recovering, so there hadn't really been an opportunity for trips to the library.
Remus smiled back weakly, "I'm afraid I caught the flu."
"Oh. Nothing too serious, I hope?"
Remus denied it and plunked the newspapers down on Gianni's desk, eager for a change of subject. The librarian picked them up and put them away.
"Newspapers again? What are you, some kind of reporter…?"
"Of sorts."
"Well it looks like hard work. I'm Gianni, by the way. Though you… probably already read that on the nametag, huh?" He rubbed his chin sheepishly, "Never got the chance to properly introduce myself, but I actually live downstairs from you."
This was news to Remus.
"Wait, really?"
Now that he'd mentioned it, Remus did recall seeing Gianni in the area.
Oh, Merlin. He'd never noticed?
… How awkward.
Gianni laughed it off, assured him that he was not offended, and Remus ended up hanging around until closing time – there were only about ten minutes left anyway – so they could leave together.
"I was wondering if anyone had given you a tour of the town yet?" Gianni asked as they neared their apartment building, just as Remus was starting to feel regretful about having to leave him behind, "I grew up around these parts, so I know a fair bit about them."
Remus considered it, "When were you thinking?"
"How about tomorrow? I'm free then."
On the one hand, Remus could really use a break. On the other… he didn't really have the time for this. There was a small mountain of newspapers still waiting inside his flat, and he still wasn't any closer to solving the mystery of Rose's disappearance than he had been two months ago.
But Gianni had just said he'd grown up in the area hadn't he…? Maybe Remus could find out something from him. It was a slight chance, but it was enough for Remus – even if the only thing it did was ease his guilty conscience.
"I think I can make some time. Would evening work for you?"
Gianni beamed, "How does seven o'clock sound?"
"Sounds good."
"Great, then it's a date!"
By seven on Sunday, Remus had thought of cancelling the date no less than three times.
He kept thinking of Rose, and of Dumbledore, and about how he was letting them both down, but the longer he stared at the newspapers the less work he seemed to get done, so in the end he'd just given up – knowing when a case was hopeless.
He fixed himself a late lunch, and spent some time figuring out what he should wear.
That evening, he met Gianni outside at seven, and together they wandered through town until well into the night; it was the most fun Remus had had in a long time. Gianni pointed out all the good shops, the best places to dine out, and each of the tourist traps that were to be avoided at all costs. They bought souvlakia from a Greek place, and by the time the night had fallen, they were walking down a street in a quieter part of town…
"Do you like scary stories?" Gianni asked him, a hint of mischief in his eyes already, "They say that house over there is haunted."
He pointed it out and it definitely looked haunted: old and rundown with an overgrown, wilted garden, the entire house creaking with every gust of wind that went through it. It reminded Remus of the shrieking shack back at Hogsmeade, but bigger.
"Why?" Remus humoured him, smiling, "Does a ghost live there?"
"Could be." Gianni said, "The previous owner died almost twenty years ago and no one has lived there since. They say he had connections to the Mafia – that he'd make people disappear for the right price – right up until a bigger predator came into town and killed him. He was found murdered in his own home. The doors were all locked and there was no sign of a break-in – except that someone had slaughtered him. Ripped him to shreds and painted the walls red with his blood – then slipped out and locked the door behind him, without anyone ever noticing. It's said you better be careful when walking past this house at night, lest you become Prince the Ripper's next victim…"
Gianni wiggled his fingers and made a low "oooooo" sound, which Remus rolled his eyes at, amused.
"Prince the Ripper – what's that? Like… like a knock-off Jack the Ripper?"
"Yes, actually. Exactly like that." Gianni chuckled, "But be careful who you call a knock-off, Marco – I doubt the Ripper would appreciate it. Some say he's real, you know, and there was a string of murders just like that when I was a kid."
"Okay, now you're really pulling my leg."
"No, I swear I'm not! Go look through newspapers from… I don't know, seventeen or eighteen years ago? He used to make headlines all the time!"
Remus watched Gianni's face, but there was no sign of a joke anywhere.
"You're not kidding…? Who was he then, did he ever get caught?"
"No idea – I don't think so. My mum didn't let me read the papers as they were coming out – all I know is he killed people very gruesomely for a while, and then for some reason, he suddenly stopped. There's not been a Ripper murder in ages."
…
Despite his plans to look into this matter as soon as he was able to, Remus didn't get to find out more about Prince the Ripper the next weekend. An owl arrived from the Red Kingdom right at the beginning of July which set the matter aside for a little while:
Princess Jophiel had invited her granddaughter and great-grandson to spend a few days with her during the summer, and they had accepted. This meant less free time for the servants, and less days off, due to the increased workload…
Before they arrived, Remus was sent in to sweep, dust, and air their bedrooms – make the beds, fluff the pillows, and unpack their trunks, which had been brought by one of Lady Karolina's servants in advance.
Lady Karolina and her son Ernst were at least easier people to deal with than their relative was, and on one particular occasion – Remus happened to stumble upon an… interesting conversation.
…
"You suggested what? Grandmother!"
Remus hadn't meant to eavesdrop – at least, not this time. But he'd been sweeping the porch when Lady Karolina and her grandmother came out onto the overhanging balcony, and they must not have noticed him, because they were making no effort to quiet themselves.
"Well you can hardly blame me for trying, Lina! And don't look at me like that – Asriel turned down the proposal anyway, so nothing came of it."
"Of course he did! What century do you think we live in? How embarrassing!"
Whatever she said next came out muffled, as though Lady Karolina had thrown her face into her hands to cope with the embarrassment.
Remus had given up on sweeping, and was just paying rapt attention now. The thought of a marriage proposal when both parties were still so young was… an uncomfortable one – but he supposed it wasn't unheard of. Kings and Queens used to promise their children as part of a treaty or to forge alliances all the time in the past.
A pawn in their dynastic ambitions.
It wouldn't be as if they'd be married off immediately, or as if they would be expected to act as wife and husband before they were both done with school and at least 17 – but still. Uncomfortable to think about. Remus was glad Prince Asriel had shut that down decisively at least, making it clear that his daughter would have the first and last say in whom she chose to marry.
"Come now." Princess Jophiel made a disapproving noise. "Stop that. And don't act as though you would complain to see your son ruling alongside our future Queen one day…"
"Of course I wouldn't complain – it's just – oh God, you haven't given up on this at all, have you?"
"What are you talking about?" Remus could imagine Princess Jophiel leaning over the balustrade now, looking up at the darkening sky with a hint of a smile on her wrinkled face, "Our Crown Prince had made himself clear – Princess Hel will marry whomever she may choose to."
"Yes, but if Princess Hel decides she likes Ernst autonomously – there's still a chance she might decide to marry him out of her own volition in the future, right? I can't believe it - do you really expect that to work…?"
"Do I expect the Princess to choose Ernst, out of every boy she'll ever meet? I'm as biased as any great-grandmother, my dear, but I'm not naïve – I just figured that since childhood companions do tend to get preferential treatment, we might as well give ourselves a leg up in the race, no?"
Lady Karolina let out a disbelieving laugh, and she suddenly sounded a little bit closer. Maybe she had joined her grandmother at the edge of the balcony, "Mama always used to say you were a conniving old bat, you know."
"Did she, now? A bit hypocritical of her, don't you think…? Some days I think she was more invested in being Queen than my son ever was in becoming King… she would have been playing every dirty trick up her sleeve to see Ernst married to Princess Hel one day."
There was a short silence after that declaration, making Remus wonder if he should start trying to slip away unnoticed. But before he could, he heard a shuffling sort of sound, the unclasping of a purse, and a little while later the smell of cigarette smoke filled the air.
"Must you, Grandmother? You know I hate the smell."
"My dear, you'll pry this cigarette from my cold, dead hand – and while you're at it, be a dear and tell Magnus to fetch me an ashtray, would you?"
"Oh, alright. But… before I go – have you talked to the Crown Prince yet? About the matter we discussed?"
"Not yet… but don't worry about it – he's unlikely to refuse, anyway."
…
Remus hadn't forgotten about the Ripper rumour, but with everything going on, it had been put on the backburner. With Ernst and Lady Karolina finally leaving to return to the Red Kingdom, Remus was finally able to look into the matter properly.
Gianni had been right: Prince the Ripper was real. He'd made several headlines in the past, though he had faded into obscurity as of late – treated as somewhat of an urban legend. A scary story to tell your friends.
Further investigation into the matter revealed that the murders had started much earlier than Remus had initially realised – the earliest guestimates going as far back as roughly six months after Prince Asriel had gone missing, continuing well into his early teens, until the bloody terror known as Prince the Ripper had suddenly seemed to vanish off the face of the earth.
The man who'd done most of the reporting had abruptly quit his job around the same time, and never wrote another article again.
With a little more Liquid Luck, Remus managed to break into the local police station and procure copies of the Ripper files. And wouldn't you know it… the murders had never stopped; the papers and authorities had only stopped reporting them.
Another interesting piece of information that hadn't been in any of the newspapers Remus had spent the last few nights poring over, was that Prince the Ripper's targets had never been as random as it was assumed: they had all had connections to the Mafia, a great deal of them having been hitmen or assassins – either living in the area or just passing through – which seemed to suggest that Prince the Ripper had actively been hunting them.
When Remus thought back to the man he'd seen in Charlie's memories, a shiver ran down his spine.
Could he be Prince the Ripper? He had only been nine years old when the first of the murders had taken place – so surely not? Was it a coincidence that the dates lined up? Was he completely off the mark?
But what if he wasn't?
By the sound of it, Rose wasn't being treated badly at all – but if the man who had kidnapped her really was this Prince the Ripper…
It didn't bode well for anyone.
Remus wrote down the name and address of the story's main reporter, and tucked it away into his pockets, intending to investigate the lead on his next day off.
…
In the end, it wasn't until July 31st – which also happened to be Rose's seventh birthday, he wondered how she was spending it – that Remus managed to get away from work and got the chance to visit Giorgio Massi.
The ex-reporter was living in a house a little ways outside town, about an hour's drive away by bus, and by the time Remus was trudging along the dirt path to get back to the bus stop again, he was pretty certain now that he was on the right track.
The reporter had refused to speak with him at all, and the more persistent Remus had been, the more eager to avoid the conversation Massi had grown – eyes darting left and right as though he expected the ripper to jump out at him from behind an armchair. He'd slid right into a panic attack at even being shown Prince Asriel's picture, and though Remus felt bad about causing the man so much distress, he had at least gotten a clue out of it:
La Varia.
He would find that man – Prince the Ripper – at the Varia.
Remus didn't know what the Varia might be, but there would be time to figure that out. In the meantime, he should send an owl Dumbledore's way to let him know of the Ripper theory. He had a strong enough case to support it now, and Dumbledore would definitely take personal interest in something like this. Besides, with Dumbledore in the know his workload would probably decrease enough to let him focus on just one thing at a time.
As he reached his apartment, brain full of the letter he was intending to write, Remus walked up the stairs without paying much attention. He retrieved his keys from his pocket and made to unlock the door to his apartment… only to find it unlocked.
Strange.
He was sure it hadn't been unlocked when he'd left the flat this morning. He drew his wand quietly, pushing the door open just a crack – there! Someone was standing in front of the table with their back turned to him!
Remus's heart hammered inside his chest.
Who was it?
Had he been found out-
He realised his mistake the moment he crossed the threshold and sensed magic. The intruder twisted his body around and they raised their wands at the same time, shouting:
"Stupe-"
"Stupefy!"
A flash of red light was the last thing he saw – and it illuminated a familiar face.
A/N: I always knew the Remus chapter was going to be a long one, but I was not expecting to write almost 13K. So anyway, you can expect part two of this chapter... soon.
As always, thank you all for reading and please leave a review to let me know your thoughts!