Merit and Inheritance
Chapter Forty-two
Discoveries
Daphne and Narcissa left the cell via the crack beneath the door, rising immediately to the ceiling of the corridor and setting off to explore Our Place.
"Kind of rustic," Daphne thought. She hadn't turned to smoke in the company of another person before but she was only mildly surprised to hear Narcissa's reply. It was logical, if one took the time to think it through.
"I thought Malfoy Manor was overdue for some updating," said Narcissa. "This…"
"Mm-hmm," said Daphne. "A little extreme, for my taste, anyway. I suppose they're attached to it. Home, you know."
The two drifted down the corridor. Artifacts from various periods of European history were jumbled together without any theme or organization. Some breed of elf did the housework, they could see. The elves weren't that much different from their familiar British elves but these did a lot more of their work by manual effort. They stopped at one point to hover unobtrusively to watch an elf scrub a flagstone floor using a pail of water and a brush.
"I've never seen that before," observed Narcissa. "Do they enjoy doing it that way, do you think?"
"Like some craft we might do, just for the pleasure?" asked Daphne.
"Exactly," Narcissa replied. "Like it is their equivalent of embroidery or flower arrangement."
After a bit they had their fill of floor scrubbing and went on with their exploration.
"What would you call this?" Daphne asked.
"It isn't exactly a castle," said Narcissa.
"No, definitely not, although there are some castle-like features," Daphne went on.
"An Alpine retreat," said Narcissa. "That is what I would propose."
"Excellent," said Daphne. "You know, I've been thinking about something like this, for a family getaway destination. We don't need one yet, of course, but if there are children in the future it might be nice to have something out, away from everything else, the hustle and bustle. Did you ever have anything like that?"
"Mmm," Narcissa agreed, "At the shore, on a little island, maybe the Lake District. No, we didn't need anything like that, I suppose. Mother and Father made sure we got around to see the relatives. Walburga always wanted us girls to come to Grimmauld Place. Later on it occurred to me the three of us could corral the young wizards better than she could. Having all five of us at once was actually giving her a bit of a break."
Daphne laughed, a very low, smoky laugh.
"Can't argue with you there. Just dealing with the portraits…"
"Exactly," said Narcissa. "You understand perfectly. Auntie Walburga is much more useful in a painted representation. She was so volatile. She really was a big help with Cyrus and Cordelia, not to rehash bad memories."
"And you're not, believe me," said Daphne. "You were so right, when she told Father to shut up."
The memory got to Daphne as they drifted down some circular tower stairs and she began to laugh again.
"The two of you were what got Father's attention," Daphne went on. "You cut to the heart of the issue. You gave Mother a new start. I don't think I have found a way to thank either of you properly."
"Lady Daphne, please!" protested Narcissa. "You're the reason I am on this lovely adventure right now. It is I who must start thinking about how to thank you. I can't remember having this much fun before, ever. Look around us. Hello—you are?"
They were hovering among some rafters, great wooden beams blackened by smoke and age, looking down at an oversize portrait of a young nude woman. A woman with a tiny penis and what looked like the beginnings of a scrotum.
"Venus," said the portrait. The witches dropped down for a better observation point.
"I'm loot, now," said the figure. "In life I was a model for a mad monk painter. He had a studio in an abbey. Very worldly, not what you'd expect of a monk. The abbot encouraged him in his art because his commissions brought in the ducats. He was a very good monk, along with being a talented painter. He developed a following among the aristocrats and church hierarchy of the day. He took his vow of poverty seriously. He would not handle money. The poor fellow was tormented by physical desire."
"So he painted Venus, as a man?" asked Daphne.
"Not exactly," said the portrait Venus, her attendant sprites giggling behind their hands. "I was a local freak. Eight hundred or so years ago it wasn't uncommon for fathers to strangle people like me at birth. My family was a tiny bit more enlightened. My parents could read. They kept me at home, out of sight, and taught me themselves. Mother read the Bible to me. I appeared to be a girl, began to develop as a girl, then when I was twelve these man bits enlarged. My parents didn't know what to do. There were one or two very exclusive, very specialized brothels that might have bought me, had my parents known of them. They should have been trying to arrange a marriage but when they didn't the gossip started, that there was something wrong with me. They'd kept me so close there was plenty of opportunity for malicious speculation."
"At some point I came to the attention of a local painter, who did a small portrait of me in a white cap and lace collar. My Spanish monk, Diego, was associated with the abbey between our town and the next one over. He saw the portrait and got in contact through the artist, and I sat for Diego. It was quite bizarre—the first thing Diego painted was a Madonna, with one tiny bared breast. I had to sit with two ancient nuns watching, one on each side of me, ready to cast me out at the first sign of lust by either of us. That one still survives in a side altar in an old church in Italy. Mothers come by and pray before it, asking for help for all kinds of female problems. I'm supposed to be very useful in arranging abundant milk for women who are about to give birth."
"Oh, that is truly a magical history," said Daphne.
"I'll say," Narcissa agreed. "But how did he paint you like that? The nuns must have been mortified."
"Diego got a commission. A very wealthy and undistinguished bishop had a taste for bodies like mine and heard of my condition. He invited Diego to stay with him and consult on the decoration of a new diocesan palace. That meant Madonnas here and there, so Mother came along and took the place of the nuns. She was more open-minded. When the sacred work was finished for the day Diego would work on Venus for another hour. This canvas graced the bishop's bedchamber, strictly as a classical reference, of course."
"Of course," the two witches concurred.
"And you are?" asked Venus. "If I'm not being too forward."
"Oh, not at all. We're a couple of witches," said Daphne. "Just traveling at the moment. Seeing the world. I was kidnapped and brought here as a hostage, so I asked my companion to join me. I hate traveling alone. No one nearby for discussions of all one's new discoveries."
"Like you, a genuine goddess," added Narcissa.
"Well, that is different," said Venus. "So very creative. Someone took you by force so you decided to turn it into a mini-vacay?"
"Exactly."
"Indeed."
Said the witches together.
"So, Madam, how are you loot?" asked Narcissa.
"Oh, the usual," replied Venus. "The way things went back then. Sack of a city, raping and burning, lots and lots of looting. It was the standard way to promote cultural diffusion at the time. Some mercenary fancied me and got me out of a family dining room while his comrades stole candlesticks and golden finger bowls. I was swapped and traded and stolen a few times and then landed with these folks and I've been right here ever since."
"Listen, witches, before I go further, I must say I really appreciate your stopping by. I don't get a lot of chances to talk to such delightful people from outside such as yourselves."
"Well, speaking for myself, I'm delighted we found you," said Daphne, the smoke Narcissa trying to mentally convey a nod of agreement. "You're the most beautiful portrait I've ever seen, and so intriguing with your obvious femininity offset by that extra bit of interest down there."
"I couldn't agree more, Lady Daphne," said Narcissa. "If our friend ever needs a place to stay I know just where I'd put her at Malfoy Manor."
"Oh? And?" asked Daphne.
"Not telling," said Narcissa as she telepathically gave Venus a big wink.
"Madam, we're still exploring," said Daphne. "I hope we get another opportunity to chat. You are so full of information. I love getting first-hand accounts of Renaissance life."
"Too right, Lady Daphne," agreed Narcissa. "So many of our magical traditions go straight back to the Divine Venus here. We yearn to be students at your knee, Madam."
"May it be so," said Venus. "There is plenty of room here on my scallop shell."
The two witches drifted on down a corridor. Besides sending tendrils before them to feel around for malevolent spells and jinxes they weren't paying much attention to where they were going. They had not been in Our Place before so each corridor they explored amounted to the mapping of unknown territory. That could prove important upon Harry's return and what they assumed would be a bloody battle.
"What do you think of the magic around here? So far, I should add," asked Narcissa.
"It isn't overwhelming, at least to me," said Daphne. "What about you?"
"There are certainly some very old elements," said Narcissa. "Harry told me a little about these people, how they go back to Roman colonists and native villagers. That and how they try to live without contact with the outside, in the interest of concealment. That's all I know."
"That's about the extent of my knowledge, too," said Daphne. "If the population has been mostly in hiding all this time then it follows that they haven't been bringing up the magical children as young witches and wizards, nor sending students to the outside schools of witchcraft. We need Romilda here to interpret for us."
"Yes, although Romilda is said to be thoroughly sick of them," Narcissa said. "Oh! Look!"
They had turned a corner in the corridor and drifted directly into a huge room hung with portraits and arms of all types. A standard stood alone on a dais at one end of the rectangularly-shaped room, clearly the place of honor. Atop a staff sat an eagle with wings unfurled. On the eagle's perch Daphne saw the numerals X-I-I.
"The standard of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata," breathed Narcissa. "I need to drift a bit closer."
Narcissa didn't wait for a reply but headed directly for the dais. Daphne heard Narcissa's thoughts as she tried to establish contact with anything conscious that might be embedded in the standard.
"Do you welcome visitors?" Daphne heard.
"I don't know," the standard replied. "I've never had any."
"Pardon me, your…?" said Narcissa.
"Julia," said the eagle. "Just Julia. We don't actually have names but the legionaries declared us sacred and wanted to call us something. Somehow, by consensus, a name emerged among the men. It was always feminine for some reason. We don't have real genders, either. I suppose that ought to be obvious."
"Well, then, it is honorary, like a ship, I suppose," said Narcissa. "We are honored to make your acquaintance, Madam Julia."
"Narcissa, I'm missing some context," said Daphne. "I barely brushed the classics before I had to start concentrating on healing. I regret to say I'm kind of one-dimensional. Well, besides being a witch. I can see you're feeling a bit of awe in Julia's presence."
"Oh, right," said Narcissa. "Well, Julia here is the emblem of a Roman legion. Not just any legion, either. The Twelfth Legion, Fulminata, the Thunderbolt, was raised by Julius Caesar when the Roman Republic was self-destructing. They fought together during the civil war period and the legion went on to campaigns, frontier duty and so on. They had their ups and downs. Victories but defeats, too. The Twelfth lost their standard when it was defeated in battle in the year sixty-six and it was never seen again. Although now, I'm thinking we have discovered its whereabouts. Madam Julia?"
"Yes, an excellent synopsis, and deduction, considering we haven't properly introduced ourselves," sniffed Julia.
"Oh, forgive me, I was so overcome by seeing you I've forgotten all my manners," thought Narcissa. "My name is Narcissa Black Malfoy. I'm a witch, an English witch. This is my chieftain, Lady Daphne Greengrass Potter-Black."
"Honored, Lady Narcissa, honored, Lady Daphne," said Julia. "Are either of you divine?"
"No, no," the witches thought, together. "We're mortal."
"Oh, I thought…" replied Julia. "But no matter. So, where are you going next?"
"Not sure," said Daphne. "We were kind of expecting a…a party, of sorts, but if it doesn't get started soon I think we might just take our leave. What about you, Madam Julia? Do you like it here?"
"Oh, I haven't been lost in battle for a few millennia, so that is a good thing, but this is so boring," Julia replied. "These people got me as part of some ransom deal and put me here like a trophy on a shelf. I'm not that kind of effigy! I crave action. I marched at the head of ten thousand of the best soldiers who ever lived and faced death, starvation, incompetent leadership and every kind of hazard with them, countless times, and they loved me. This bunch thinks I'm kitsch."
"Sounds to me like you wouldn't mind a change of scenery," thought Daphne. "We'll keep that in mind. I wonder if these people play poker?"
Daphne and Narcissa were winding up their conversation with Julia, the standard of the XII Legion, as Harry finished his breakfast. He had warmed up his magic there in the sidewalk café and was feeling satisfied and ready for a little diversion.
"You'll be my guide, I take it?" Harry asked Ricardo.
"Yes, whenever you're ready," Ricardo said before finishing up his coffee. "Do you object to coming by, what do you call it in English—side-along?"
"Oh, let's walk," Harry said. "It's a nice day. So far."
Harry spoke to the owl on his shoulder.
"You ought to fly back, they might have things for you to do."
The owl agreed, hooting before launching from Harry's shoulder.
Ricardo Mendini looked at Harry.
"It's several miles, mostly uphill," he said.
"I'm game," said Harry. "I've enjoyed a total of one hike in the Alps in my entire life. I've no idea why I haven't been back. It's so beautiful up here."
Harry didn't wait for Ricardo but started off on his own in the direction of the owl's flight.
The altitude and uphill nature of their walk wasn't a huge problem for Mendini as he had been born somewhere around nine thousand feet and lived there through his adolescence. Still, he had been away on family business for extended periods. He expected they'd be going slower and slower until he convinced Harry to let him take them both the rest of the way by apparition. Instead, Harry always seemed to be a half step or a step ahead of the sweating Mendini.
Harry assumed Mendini, as a scion of a magical family, knew a simple charm that made it easier to perform physical labor. Harry was able to calibrate his with some accuracy and had lowered his weight by seventy percent before starting out.
The cobblestone street ended and an asphalt road continued upward. The road ended and two parallel tracks continued. Deep ruts occurred frequently so Harry jumped those, even though he had to wait for Mendini on the other side.
"How are you doing?" Harry asked. "Too much time in the office in Salzburg?"
Mendini forced himself to smile.
"It usually comes back quicker, the wind?"
"Better take it easy," said Harry. "Wizards get altitude sickness the same as anyone."
"Mr. Potter, can I ask you something?"
"Sure," said Harry. "That doesn't mean I can give you an answer."
"You came all this way for your wife. Don't you want to get to Our Place? I mean, she is there."
"My wife!" said Harry. "Yes, of course. But she'll be there. I just saw her yesterday and this is such a nice track, and there are the woods! I love the woods. The mystery, you know. I used to have nightmares, if you can believe that. That was before real terror knocked all that silliness out of me. The nightmares happened in the woods and the source of the terror stayed hidden. I'd wake up screaming. Wake everyone else up some of the time. Get punished."
Harry walked easily uphill. The woods got closer and closer.
"Wards I should take care with, I assume?" Harry said as he came to a stop. He looked from Mendini back to the woods. The little owl sat on a branch, out of the sun, staring down at Harry.
Mendini walked to the treeline and stood half in and half out of the sunshine. He was taking his time about something. Harry's owl glided down from its branch and sat on his shoulder. Mendini bent over. It appeared to Harry he was having trouble breathing. Harry walked closer.
"Am I going to walk into anything?" he called out. "You look like you could use some help."
"Just need to catch my breath…" Mendini said, just before his eyes rolled up under his upper lids and he fell backwards to the ground.
Harry drew the Elder Wand, which was under an occlusion charm, and cast revelio. He needed to go forward to assist his guide but he had no way to know what kinds of wards or other protections might be in the way. The Elder Wand didn't react at all. Harry couldn't know whether that meant he had yet to encounter any protective measures, his wand didn't recognize the Continental wards, or it simply didn't consider the ones it found to be a problem for a wand of its power and experience.
"Drat!" Harry said to himself. Mendini had passed out, but from what? Would he come to, if left alone, or was his life ticking away with the seconds? Harry rubbed his left thumb against his wedding ring and thought of Daphne's. He'd never opened the portal but he knew how Daphne had done it. Of course, she had Iolanthe on her opposite hand for counsel.
"Oh, well, nothing ventured…"
Harry put his first finger and thumb tips together in a triangle and slowly pulled them apart. When he judged he'd expanded enough, Harry thought of Daphne wedding ring while he talked through the gap between his hands.
"Daphne, it's Harry," he said. "I have a medical emergency on my hands, just on the downslope side of the woods."
Harry looked between his hands into a confusing jumble of a picture. He could see rafters that spanned a great hall laid out beneath him. There was some cloudiness up near the underside of the roof. Was Daphne still smoke? He knew she and Narcissa were going to escape the cell as smoke but he assumed they would restore their human forms and go looking for a good place to stay out of sight until he and his guide arrived back at the main building.
"Oh, good, this is becoming tedious," said Daphne's voice. Harry couldn't tell if it was coming through the portal or from inside his head. He just had time to think, "Either way would be excellent magic, I suppose," when the smoke blew through the portal and right across his face, choking him.
Harry's eyes burned and tears started, followed by coughing and a long gasp to get control of his breath. When he stood up straight and looked around, he saw that both Daphne and Narcissa had joined him, and Daphne was already kneeling over her patient, moving her wand slowly over his face, thorax and abdomen. After a little while, Mendini began to blink his eyes. When he kept them open they must have focused because it was plain that he was looking around, trying to make sense of his surroundings.
"You're Potter's wife!" said Mendini. "You I don't know. And there's Potter. What happened to me? I passed out. Where is Selwyn? What in the name of the Immortals has gone on here?"
Harry, Daphne and Narcissa were fighting back smirks, not because they weren't entitled to a bit of smirking because they were, but out of politeness.
"Ricardo Mendini, Daphne Greengrass," Harry said, indicating Daphne. "Ricardo Mendini, Narcissa Malfoy. From England."
"Of course, of course," said Mendini. "That's to be expected, isn't it? If I asked how…"
He didn't need to complete his question before Daphne and Narcissa were shaking their heads.
"Sorry," they both said, nearly in unison.