CHAPTER 4:

THE PRODIGAL SON RETURNS

In a remote corner of Romania sits a village. It's a small, rural place that does not appear on many maps. Its name is Cioarăfsat, but even by that name, it isn't well-known.

Life is hard and harsh there. Winters are especially cruel, and even in the summer, there is a chill in the air. And yet, there is prosperity, of a sort.

And the village itself weathered many tumultuous events in the 20th Century. It survived the Spanish Flu, and indeed, in a perverse manner, that tragedy sparked off its strange prosperity. It sneered at the dictatorship of King Carol II, and then at the successive reigns of military dictator Ion Antonescu and Carol's heir, Michael I, aka Mihai I. It weathered the Second World War, with the Nazis and the Soviets causing problems within Romania. It ignored the revolution by the communists, led by Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej, and the brutal regime that followed, even after Nicolae Ceauşescu took over. And it raised nary an eyebrow at the overthrow of Ceauşescu's regime some five years previously.

While not truly unchanging, many things were not so different from when the village had been devasted by Spanish Flu. The area was ruled, more or less, by the local aristocracy, a quartet of lords, many of whom were descended from foreigners: Dimitrescu, Heisenberg, Moreau and Beneviento. But the true ruler of this land was a woman by the name of Miranda.

To most outsiders, she would be seen as, at best, a religious figurehead, and at worst, as a cult leader. However, she was many things. She was, surprisingly for a religious figure, a scientist. Indeed, under a number of pseudonyms, she had written a number of controversial but intriguing papers on microbiology in general, and mycology in particular.

To those in the know, she seemed like a dictator, little better than those who had ruled over Romania for much of the 20th Century. The only difference with them seemed to be that her remit covered only a relatively small part of the country. And yet, whispers abounded within the village that her atrocities made those of not only the dictatorships, but also those of the likes of Vlad Tepes pale by comparison. For all that Vlad the Impaler was considered a national hero in Romania, there was no getting past the fact that he gained his moniker for a reason.

And yet, to those who kept her favour, Miranda was a somewhat benevolent leader. She had protected them from the depredations of those who ruled or warred over Romania. She ensured their protection from outsiders.

But on this day, someone had arrived who would shake things up somewhat in the village. A prodigal son would return. And things wouldn't be the same again…


Harry looked around the small room, recognising it instantly as the Duke's usual salesroom within Castle Dimitrescu. It hadn't changed much in the near-fifty years since his demise. "So, what next?" he asked.

The Duke, in his usual alcove, smiled. "As I told you, I took the liberty of speaking with Alcina. I gave her few details, only that there was someone she should meet, alone. No explicit details, only that I was bringing a person of considerable interest to her."

"And you're sure she believes in my innocence?"

The Duke nodded. "As it turned out…Daniela's father was the traitor. He'd planted the evidence to frame you out of spite, as he despised how close you were to his daughter, filling her mind with ideas above her station. He'd also used some of Heisenberg's equipment to do so, and as much as Heisenberg is at odds with Miranda, he was, if not friends with you, then at least fond enough of you."

Harry nodded. He didn't get along that well with the master of magnetism (and Heisenberg had been around longer than Magneto) in his past life, especially given Heisenberg's understandable resentment at being made a guinea pig against his will, but Harry had helped give him some pointers on anatomy and physiology when Heisenberg was curious about a form of cybernetics. Still, the thought that Daniela's father had been the one responsible for her demise had him angry. "Nice to see Karl actually helped out. But what of the old bastard?"

The Duke smirked. "I believe he was kept alive at the Countess' pleasure until her new daughters had completed their metamorphosis, albeit without Miranda's knowledge. They then devoured him alive."

The thought of Daniela devouring her own father would have disturbed most people, but not Harry. Even by the standards of the 1940s, Daniela's father was a misogynist, amongst so many other character flaws. The sad thing was, he was excellent with machines, and had been a mentor to Heisenberg in mechanics and machinery. Henric had been considerably more liberal, especially by the standards of the 40s, but when you and your aunt were hybridised with a super-mould that could grant superpowers, it helped to have a broad mind. The Nazis and their ilk disagreed, but still…

"Where do I find her?" Harry asked.

"She is coming here. She should be here any minute."

As if on cue, the door opened, and a striking figure ducked under the lintel to come inside. The Duke clapped his hands together with glee. "Ah, Lady Dimitrescu…it's a pleasure."

"I found myself curious, Duke, but please, do not waste my time," purred a sultry contralto coming from the extraordinary figure in front of Harry.

The woman was seemingly middle-aged, but with a haughty aristocratic beauty, her short dark hair framing her face. Golden eyes peered down at him. The white dress, long black gloves, and the wide-brimmed hat tilted at an angle had the style of a Hollywood starlet from the 20s or 30s, while a cigarette in a holder was clutched in one hand.

Of course, there was no getting away from the fact that she was nearly three metres tall, almost hitting the ceiling of the room. Or that her skin was a pale grey. Or, and he knew this from having tended to her, her fingers could extrude into claws that could cut through flesh and bone as if they were butter…and she could turn into a hideous, dragon-like beast.

She noticed Harry there, and did a brief double-take in recognition. A surprisingly hospitable smile touched her lips. "Well, well, as I live and breathe. Bŭna dimineaţa, Harry Potter. I am Countess Alcina Dimitrescu. Tell me, what brings the Boy Who Lived to my abode?"

Now, Harry had to admit to a certain amount of irritation at being called by that irritating title, so he decided a bit of payback was in order. In Romanian, he said, "Alcina, didn't I tell you to stop smoking those damned things? Honestly, I'm surprised you've lasted this long. And how's your liver? It can't be in that great condition from drinking all that Sanguis Virginis. Or does the Mutamycete help protect you from such things? Honestly, it's stunted your growth. You'd be twice the size you are now."

Alcina stared at him in absolute shock, while the Duke roared with laughter. Eventually, Alcina's face twisted into an embarrassed scowl. "And who are you, to speak of such things with impunity? Impudent child!" she snapped in Romanian. "If this is a jest, then it is not an amusing one, Duke!"

Harry knew that he couldn't push her too far. Instead, he transformed, using his adult appearance as Henric Stan. Tall, thin, with light brown hair, and blue eyes(1). As Alcina stared at him in shock, he walked over, and gently kissed the back of her hand. "Servus, Contesă Dimitrescu."

Alcina stared at him again, before she knelt, coming to eye level with him, searching his face. At first, her eyes seemed to show nothing but denial, until she glanced at the Duke, who nodded solemnly. And then, Alcina, with the speed of a striking snake, embraced him, pressing him to her body. Sobs erupted from her throat.

"You foolish, impulsive man, you pursued those monsters, and for what?" she wept. "Mother Miranda told us you were a traitor, and yet…oh, you fool…you quixotic damned fool. I…" Her voice caught in her throat.

This was a surprise to Harry. He wasn't sure his demise would have affected her so badly. They had been close, true, but as close as friends and a doctor and his patient could be without it crossing lines. He had been working on a Mutamycete-derived blood substitute to treat her hereditary blood disorder, one of the downsides of being part of the branch line of the Dimitrescus.

And yet, here she was, weeping for joy that he was back amongst the living. He had to admit to being pleasantly surprised. He dreaded what had become of those in his absence, when he couldn't provide them with criminals he had kidnapped from across the Balkans, but this was heartening, to some degree.

She broke off, and gave him a smile, before she recomposed herself, wiping her tears away. "Welcome back home, Henric. Or would you prefer your name in this life? I am amenable to addressing you as Harry Potter, should you wish."

Harry shrugged. "Harry for preference, Alcina."

"Then Harry it is. My word, you have a rather famed life now. The Boy Who Lived."

"Yeah, how do you know about that?"

"After Grindlewald and his cronies took the Cadou and you from us, we made sure to keep our ears to the ground. The Duke has helped me in that regard, as he has sources in the wizarding world."

"Stop, you're making me blush," the Duke said.

Harry looked Alcina in her eyes. They'd been golden ever since her infection with the Cadou. He need to talk to her about what she had done. "Alcina…the Duke has told me…about your daughters. About where they came from. I'm grateful to you for trying to revive them, especially Dani, but…why? Why have them act like bloody strigoi, like vampires?"

Alcina had at least the good grace to look ashamed. To anyone else, save for Miranda, she would have issued a sharp rebuke at best. But Alcina and Henric had had a strong relationship already, stronger than he had with his aunt. "…Your death hurt me, Henric. Your kindness availed you nothing when facing Grindlewald. There were few good men in the world, and I had seen more than one I treasured die. When we revived the girls, they lacked memories, almost being like newborns. I resolved I would make them strong enough to survive in the world, no matter what."

"Even if it cost them their humanity?"

"None of us in this room are human, not wholly," Alcina remarked. "And humanity is weak and wretched."

"You taught them to be monstrous."

"I taught them to survive. Do you think I wanted them to be cursed with hunger for flesh and blood as I was? Of course not! I'd rather they be alive and happy and as normal as they can be given their condition. I do not have to justify myself to you."

"Oh, don't you?" Harry asked acidly. "If you had cared anything for my memory, you'd have done as I have, brought them criminals, ask the Duke for them. Instead, you decided to embrace your ancestor's legacy of being a third-rate Elizabeth Bathory, and…"

She squeezed his shoulder gently, but it had him stop and meet her gaze again. She nodded morosely. "I know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, Harry. It wasn't my full intention to turn them into monsters, but…after what was done to them…I despised this world, and the barely human things strutting across the lands like vacuous livestock or scavenging starving wolves. Your death, Miranda's tainting of your memory…it was too much for me. I will not ask for your forgiveness, Harry. I know I have gone too far for that. But I thought you would at least appreciate my daughters still being alive. In any case, do you want to meet them? Perhaps your presence may stir their memories? I knew you were fond of them all, especially Daniela."

Harry debated with himself as to whether it would be wise. After all, they probably wouldn't recognise him, and it would hurt him to see how far they had fallen. But…perhaps it was better to get it over and done with. "Very well. I'm not sorry I said such things, Alcina, but I still want to help you in any way I can. But I shouldn't meet with them all. If Miranda has declared me a traitor, then the less people who know of my resurrection, the better."

"Then at the very least, meet with Daniela. Seeing you may jog her memory. Harry, I am a cruel woman, more cruel than you have ever known me to be, but I remember your kindness to me. To an outcast member of a branch line who suffered from not only the curse in our genes, but from my father's misogyny. Daniela was far from the only daughter to have a father who didn't encourage her dreams, as you well know."

Harry considered Alcina's words, and wondered if he really should. But in the end, it was no choice. "…I'll see her."

"Very well. I'll fetch her myself, to make things more discreet. My daughters know better than to barge in here uninvited, so they won't bother you here when I have told them to leave us alone. In any case, Cassandra is busy enjoying her latest toy, an arcade machine of some gauche and gory video game called Mortal Kombat. And Bela is training the latest group of servants and maids. And keep in mind, I do not prey on all of them. That would be a waste of time and resources."

Harry grimaced at the reminder of how far his old friend, the closest thing he had to an aunt figure after his falling out with Miranda, had fallen. "Then be better, please. I'll try to find a substitute, or go back to fetching you criminals to deal with, Alcina. I know it's a lost cause with Miranda and Moreau, but I know you and Karl can be better."

Alcina chuckled morosely. "You and your friendship to us is about the only thing I have in common with that magnetic manchild anymore. Stay here. I'll be back soon."

As she left, Harry put his face in his hands. Did he really want to go through with this? He was glad Alcina greeted him so readily and believed him, but what had she become over the years since that fateful night in 1944? What had she turned those three women, including his beloved Dani, into?

As if sensing his thoughts, the Duke said, "Harry…you're worrying overly much. It's true that Daniela is somewhat more…violent and bloodthirsty than before, and there was this incident where she cut up a maid's face…"

"What?!"

"Settle down. The maid had dropped a glass by accident, and Daniela attacked. Such incidents have been rarer and rarer as time went by, thankfully. And remember, that thug of Grindlewald's who assaulted Daniela used a wine bottle on her face. I believe it may be a form of post-traumatic stress disorder, with the trigger buried in her unconscious. I do believe what she was before the Cadou is still there, albeit buried deep within her unconscious. Violent tendencies aside, she is very similar to what she was before, carefree, eccentric, and with a sharp mind. And yet, she has no conscious memories of her time as a human. It raises interesting questions about psychology. How can the personality remain so similar when the memories are not there?"

"I'm not sure what Carl would have made of it," Harry remarked, thinking back to his previous life, when Henric Stan managed to meet the famous psychologist Carl Jung. While psychology was not his field, some elements fascinated him, and meeting the Swiss pioneer of psychology had been an eye-opener.

They lapsed into silence for several minutes, the Duke reading a hardbound book, before the door opened, and Alcina came in, followed by a swarm of large insects, possibly blowflies or something similar. It coalesced, before forming into a feminine form wearing a dark, hooded robe. A very familiar form.

True, the eyes were golden now, not the beautiful jade they had been previously. Blood was smeared across her lower face like a parody of lipstick. The coat of arms of the Dimitrescu family, a pair of swords behind a rose, was tattooed on her forehead. And her skin matched her adoptive mother's grey pallor.

But there was no mistaking her. Red-haired, flighty, peering at him with an intensity of curiosity, so like and yet so unlike the girl he once knew, he once loved. And that awoke more sorrow within.

Dani, he thought morosely, What have you become?

CHAPTER 4 ANNOTATIONS:

Harry has come back to the village…but even if he's been accepted by Alcina, how will Daniela view him?

Review-answering time! Kryn Womble: Actually, Lily's body is in the custody of another Resident Evil villain. Snape hasn't raped her…though he has more than a few disturbing masturbatory fantasies. And Dumbledore was not responsible for giving Lily the Cadou. As brought up in a later chapter, the Cadou was brought into the custody of the Unspeakables after World War II, and Lily used it to save an unborn Harry when she was hit by a curse. Indeed, the reason for him being named Harry, in this fic at least, is as a tribute to Henric (which is the Romanian form of Harry), as his name was written on the jar by Grindlewald. Not because Grindlewald knew Henric's soul slumbered within the Mutamycete, but as a tribute to someone who impressed him. The two conspirators suspected something slept within the Cadou, but they weren't sure, and they still aren't.

Ares26: As much as I disagree with your dislike of Ethan, he pretty much IS a home invader, isn't he? And no, he isn't in this story.

Lucius Walker: The Duke IS a fun character to write. In fact, I have a very interesting backstory for him that ties into Potterverse lore. That will be revealed in a later chapter, but let's just say he is a distant relation of a character from late in the series. I also have an interesting notion in mind for the Merchant.

1. I view Henric Stan as looking somewhat like Paul McGann, particularly how he looks as Marwood in Withnail and I.