CHAPTER 8:

DANIELA'S DAYTRIP

It was while lying awake, unable to sleep in anticipating continuing his research on the weekend, that Harry had something of an epiphany. One thing that had been bothering him was how Hermione had managed to attend multiple classes at once. His talk with McGonagall and her mentioning Hermione attending Muggle Studies reminded him of that conundrum.

The epiphany came when he realised that there was only one way he could think of that she could attend such classes all at once, to his knowledge. As far as he knew, wizards didn't have the ability to clone themselves magically…but time travel was another matter. The Duke had used a Time-Turner to ensure Harry wouldn't be missed while in Romania. Harry intended to do the same this weekend, albeit without the daytrip to Romania, for now at least.

So, after breakfast, he quietly asked Hermione to speak with him in private, to which she acquiesced, as did Ron, who seemed more interested in playing wizarding chess later that morning. They went to an empty classroom. "What did you want, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I wanted to talk. I'm worried about you, Hermione. I thought something weird was going on with how many classes you were taking…and I've figured it out. You've got a Time-Turner, haven't you?"

She gaped at him in complete and utter surprise. "…How did you…?"

"When I was staying at the Leaky Cauldron, I explored Diagon Alley," Harry said, forming a plausible lie. "I went into a shop run by a man calling himself the Duke, who mentioned a friend using one. I asked him about them out of interest."

Hermione grimaced. "…You do know I can get in serious trouble telling you?" she asked. "Professor McGonagall said that I shouldn't tell anyone about this."

"Your health is in danger of suffering, Hermione. I'm not sure you'll be getting enough sleep to make up for using it to attend all those classes. And in any case, I believe I know what it is anyway. When I thought about the ridiculous amount of subjects you were taking this year, I realised last night that a Time-Turner would explain it. I'm not asking you to give it to me or lend it to me. As much as time travel appeals to me as a concept, I'm not going to risk anything that has the potential to be that appallingly dangerous. I'm just letting you know, if you need help."

Hermione shook her head. "I should be fine. I'm keeping an eye on things. I'm surprised that this friend of the Duke's, whoever he is, has one. They're apparently from the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic. Professor McGonagall had to write all sorts of recommendation letters and jump through all sorts of hoops for me to be given one."

"You're in danger of burning yourself out, Hermione. You've had that thing for two weeks now. I have no idea how you catch up on sleep," Harry said. "It can't be healthy, even if you're avoiding any temporal paradoxes. I mean, I'd love to travel through time Doctor Who-style, but…look, promise me that you'll be careful. I mean, imagine what Malfoy could do with such a thing. It is limited, right?"

"A few days at most," Hermione confirmed, not that Harry didn't know already.

"Good. I'll keep it secret."

"Thanks, Harry." She looked to her side. "…You've changed, you know that? Ever since the Dementor on the Hogwarts Express? I don't think Ron noticed, but I did. You seem more mature, and yet…more melancholy. Especially this past week."

"…I just had some things put into perspective. And last week, Professor Lupin told me why Sirius Black might be after me. People think he's the one who betrayed my parents to Voldemort. That explains why Malfoy was going on about my haring after him like an idiot. But after the last couple of years…I'm over adventures. I'm not going to pursue him for revenge. I just want to be there before he's Kissed, and ask him why the hell he did it."

Hermione looked at him, sympathy in her eyes. "…Harry, I'm sorry, I had no idea…"

"I know. I'm sorry, I've been keeping it bottled up somewhat. And I've been trying to keep out of your little tiff with Ron over Scabbers and Crookshanks. I also wanted to let you know something I discussed with Professor McGonagall. I'm seriously considering dumping Divination, probably in favour of Arithmancy. It's early enough that I don't need too much catching up, but I may need your help in doing so anyway."

"…I see. No, I would be more than happy to help, Harry," Hermione said with a smile. "I'll be honest, as fascinating as the subject matter of Divination is, it seems…rather loosely taught. I'd imagine you actually need some talent with it in the first place, but…is it me, or does Professor Trelawney seem…"

"…Fraudulent?"

"…I was going to be polite and say melodramatic, but that works too," Hermione said with a shrug. "That being said, what about what's happening with Hagrid? He's lost confidence in himself as a teacher. I mean…Flobberworms…ugh. Even if he can't risk something on the level of a Hippogriff, there are plenty of magical creatures that would be safe and interesting to handle."

"What Malfoy did messed with his confidence…and I wonder if Malfoy did it deliberately or not. He hates Hagrid, and even if that could have been Malfoy being an idiot…I dunno, he loves making people miserable…"


Harry felt a little more at ease going to the Chamber now. He'd managed to strengthen his bond with Hermione, though even then, he had to be careful not to let her get too close. Even if she accepted his true identity, it was a bit odd for someone of his cumulative age to have a friendship with a young teenager that was closer to schoolfriends than, say, a paternal one.

In any case, he'd made his excuses and headed to the Chamber of Secrets, changing into his guise as Henric as he did so. He was surprised Moaning Myrtle hadn't twigged to his comings and goings, given the way she haunted the bathroom he entered through, but maybe she was going abroad in the castle more.

That being said, he was in for a shock when he entered the Chamber proper…and was promptly ambushed by a familiar form. A distinct buzzing of insects was all the warning he got before the swarm flew towards him, and coalesced into a robed redhead who collided with him. "Bŭna dimineaţa!" she cooed in Romanian, her golden eyes meeting his own.

Harry looked over at the Duke, who shrugged. "Daniela pestered me into bringing her here for a few hours. That's both how long the pestering took, and how long she intends to be here, by the way. With her mother's permission, I obliged her."

"This place has an interesting bouquet," Daniela remarked, speaking in surprisingly good English rather than her native Romanian. She swooped around the Chamber, dissolving partially into her insect swarm as she did so. "Oh, it stinks like hell, but the Duke told me it had a rotting Basilisk carcass in it, not to mention it's been waterlogged like this for centuries! Ooh, what's this?" She went over to a bench acting as a makeshift laboratory. Thankfully, she didn't touch any of the experiments, merely peering at them.

"Please don't touch those," Harry admonished her gently. "I'm doing considerable research into the Mutamycete."

"Yeah, I know." She picked some of his notes off the table and scanned them. "Ooh, interesting. I mean, half the words go over my head, but this is about Mutamycete cellular differentiation to grow extra limbs, right?"

"Yes, actually. I never used it myself, the Mutamycete and Cadou's mutations vary, but Miranda can grow wings, though I think she does it more for the look than them being flightworthy, and your mother has a mutated form where she basically becomes a dragon-centaur, capable of flight for short periods," Harry said.

"Hmm," Daniela said, before putting the notes down, and then swooping back over to him. Her expression became serious, even solemn. "I…I know about you, Henric, from what they told me about you. But…my memory's not there. I thought visiting you every now and then would help maybe jog it. Or maybe if we can't, well, maybe we could start over?"

There was a part of Harry, a part of Henric, that wanted to deny her this. This creature in front of him wore Dani's face, body and mannerisms like one would wear clothes, but it was not Dani. The rest of him, however, shushed that part. "Well, how about we try, then?"

"Goody!" Daniela said, clapping her hands together with glee. "Oh, and you don't have to worry about food or drink. I brought my own." She indicated a thermos and a small lunchbox nearby.

"…Should I ask?" Harry asked the Duke.

"Probably not," the Duke conceded.


Oddly enough, Daniela actually fell into the role of a lab assistant quite well. This wasn't odd per se given her intelligence: before her demise, Daniela was smart enough for a medical degree at least, and Harry felt that, if given the chance, she could have been potentially his equal as a researcher. Her main problem now seemed to be a form of attention deficit disorder more than anything, and even that didn't quite matter, given her extreme focus on certain things.

She was even a willing test subject for the refined blood substitute. Harry had created a workable one at the time for Alcina, both before and after her transformation, but it wasn't as good as real blood. When Daniela swigged down a sample, she belched softly, pardoned herself, and remarked it was like the 'Diet Coke' of blood.

She also willingly let him examine her, or rather, the swarm of insects that she could turn into. Even now, he had one of the insects carefully restrained under a microscope. "So, anything interesting?" Daniela asked as he peered into the microscope, and compared it to an entomology textbook the Duke provided.

"Well, the fly does resemble those of the family Calliphoridae, the blowfly family, but there are also elements of the family Tabanidae, particularly around the mouths, which makes sense," Harry said. "I'm no entomologist, but I had a sneaking suspicion about that. Tabanidae are the horseflies' family, and the females bite, in order to use blood from animals for growing eggs. Vampire flies, if you will. And I'm wondering how that happened. Cadou mutations do vary, depending on, I believe, genetic variations of the infected, but contamination of the fungus and/or nematode could be a factor. For all I know, Miranda had a couple of flies in the jar with the Cadou. But you and your sisters had the same mutation."

"As do the Lycans, Harry," the Duke called over from his corner, while he read a book. "They have similar mutations. You could be right, but it also could be coincidence."

"It's still fascinating," Harry said. "Daniela's mind is emulated as a sort of gestalt within the swarm using the Mutamycete as a medium. What's more, the flies can change shape to emulate tissue and organs. It's remarkably like my own mutation in some regards."

"And what is yours, Harry?" Daniela asked.

Harry looked at her, before holding up his hand. It dissolved into an inky black smoke that seemed to writhe and purl like a living thing. "I can control every cell of my body, even dissolve its form into mist or smoke, as well as change my appearance." He frowned as he reformed his hand. "I was never able to change my appearance as Henric, now that I come to think about it."

"And I have a few hypotheses about that myself," the Duke remarked. "Last week, when you discussed your demise with me, you told me about Grindlewald mentioning a Credence Barebone. The name rang a bell, so I did some digging through some sources. I had suspicions of my own. Your ability to change your appearance is not dissimilar to the Metamorphmagus ability a few rare wizards possess. Maybe that was latent in your genes as Harry. But your ability to dissolve into that damaging mist…it was like reports of an Obscurial."

"A what?" Harry asked.

"They're not that well-known, especially these days, and given what happened with Credence Barebone, it's hardly surprising," the Duke said. "When a wizard or a witch is taught to loath their own magic, it turns in on them, becoming a parasite known as an Obscurus. At times, especially during moments of heightened emotion, this parasite surges forth, dissolving the physical body temporarily and rampaging around. An affected wizard or witch is thus called an Obscurial. Credence Barebone was an American boy who was abused by his mother, a most ghastly Muggle woman who crusaded against wizards and witches. Grindlewald orchestrated Credence's Obscurial causing havoc in New York in 1926, I believe."

"…I was just a kid myself then. I mean, back in my first life," Harry murmured. "But…I didn't show any signs of magic. And Miranda, for all her coldness, never abused me at the time. She cared for me in her own way. So how…"

"I have a hypothesis about that. I believe that, as Henric Stan, you were a Squib, from a line of Squibs. You had some latent magic, but you were never able to use it. The Mutamycete unlocked that, allowing you to wield magic in its most primal destructive form," the Duke said. "You were basically an Obscurial who had complete control over his transformation. That is my hypothesis, of course. I have heard tales of Obscurials, but have never witnessed them, and there was a lot of confusion around Credence Barebone."

Daniela scoffed. "Barebone? Who names you guys? I mean, you brought up guys with names like Dumbledore and Voldemort and Fudge…half of you guys sound like Charles Dickens thought up your names."

"Believe me, there's a few reasons why I prefer to be known as the Duke," the Duke remarked. "It has a little more dignity than my birth name. Though a recent acquaintance of mine prefers to be simply known as the Merchant for other reasons."

"The Merchant?" Harry asked.

"Oh, him," Daniela said. "He's been to Castle Dimitrescu a few times. Has a funny voice." She then made a mimicry of an accent that was either a weird Cockney one, or a vaguely Mummerset-like one that sounded like a bad imitation of a pirate, all in a mock-gravelly voice. "Welcome! Whaddya buyin'? Whaddya sellin'? Ahhh, I'll buy it for a high price!"

The Duke chortled to himself. "A newcomer he may be, but he's certainly quite the entrepreneur."

Harry nodded, but returned his attention to his hand, dissolving it once more into the black smoke. When he wielded it in battle, it was like a sandstorm in miniature, scouring his foes. Most of the time, he'd used it on Lycans, or on the occasional Wehrmacht or Soviet soldier who came to the village and caused trouble during the Second World War, as well as thugs from the regimes of Carol II and Ion Antonescu.

In fact, after reading about the history of Romania during that time, Harry wished he had done more against those dictatorships as Henric, thinking about the massacre at Odessa, and other parts of the Holocaust that had infected his country. He was so focused on helping the people of his village, he could have saved so many more if he had opened his eyes more. But he was thinking of humanity in general, and those he cared about, like Alcina Dimitrescu, in particular. While on his sojourns throughout the Balkans to bring back test subjects for his aunt and sustenance for Alcina, he did what he could to save any Jews and Roma targeted by Antonescu's enforcers when he saw them, but he could have helped more. He could have fought more. He could have saved more, helped actively than just in passing.

As he grimaced, reforming his hand, Dani came over, her face creased in concern. "Why are you looking sad again?"

"…Just thinking about the past. Regrets." He removed the restraint on the fly under the microscope, and it flew back to her, merging with her. "And not just about your death, but the deaths of other people, whose only crime was to be born different, to follow a different religion. I am a doctor. I may have forsaken the Hippocratic Oath when I began feeding people to your mother, but I still want to help people, to try and leave the world in better condition than how I found it. I failed in my first life. I failed miserably. I failed so many people I could have helped…including you."

"…Even if you did know about the full depravities of the Nazis and their allies and underlings," the Duke said solemnly, "how many could you have saved? The death toll of the Holocaust reached the millions. Even if you did what you could, you would still feel guilt at those you didn't save."

He was right, damn him. He had a habit of trying to help as many people as possible…as long as they met his personal litmus test. Which still made him something of a hypocritical oaf, forsaking his Hippocratic Oath. Then, Daniela gently hugged him. He stiffened, remembering how much she used to be a hugger, how it felt the same way.

"…You're too good for the world, Henric," she said quietly.

It was something she used to say sometimes, when he was feeling down. And knowing that, knowing that there were echoes of the woman she was, as well as the fact that she was utterly wrong, only served to increase his sorrow. Utterly, utterly wrong.

He wasn't a good man. How could he be? Not when he was related to Miranda, when he had failed so many during his first life, when he had fed Alcina…and even now, was straining to see what was left of the woman he'd loved in this monster. No, he wasn't a good man. Not at all…

CHAPTER 8 ANNOTATIONS:

Quite a bit of angst here.

Now, Henric was aware to some degree of the persecution of the Jews in and around Romania during World War II, but he wasn't as aware of the Holocaust at large, the death camps and the like. He was more concerned with helping his aunt get test subjects, and Alcina get food. He would help where he saw things happen, using his powers to slip away, but if he had known more about the Holocaust, he probably would have tried to do more, Miranda be damned.

I also wanted this chapter to show that Henric's morality is rather complex, and more than a little hypocritical. He does share something of a god complex with Miranda, but unlike Miranda, his god complex is more about being an arbiter of life and death. He wants to help people…but he's also willing to kill, and has a very dark side at times.

Speaking of moral complexity, I've started Nier: Automata, believe it or not. Who'd want to see a story from that?

And speaking of more moral complexity, a good chunk of this chapter, as well as many elements from this fic, were actually adapted from my abortive Dark Souls crossover Quebrith. Much of Harry's confrontation with Hermione in this chapter, for example, comes from a chapter of Quebrith, suitably edited of course.

Finally, speaking of vampires…who saw the latest episode of Death Battle? How the freaking fuck did Dio Brando beat Alucard? Death Battle clearly exaggerated Dio's abilities. Yes, I am salty about that. Deal with it.

Review-answering time! 0HarryJPotter0: I considered multiple storylines, before I decided on this one. I'd done the reincarnation angle a few times before, with one of my favourites being You're the King of My Heart, a Fate/Stay Night crossover heavily inspired by DaSalvatore's Rebirth of the Founders.

I decided on the reincarnation angle because, unlike my previous such stories (for the most part), there's in-universe lore from Resident Evil justifying it. Namely, that the Mutamycete can store memories and thoughts, effectively storing the soul. It was also the best way in helping smooth over any moral quandaries over pairing Harry with one of the Dimitrescu daughters, as they do have something of a bodycount, as does Alcina, and having someone who knew Daniela in life would help. In addition, it also gives a way to deal with the age difference issue in the pairing, a very important factor when dealing with a story set at Hogwarts.

I considered a post-Hogwarts Harry getting involved in the events of Village somehow, but wasn't sure how to make it work. That may still be on the cards: I may yet consider, at a later date, doing a story pairing Harry with Alcina. But for now, this is the story being given.

Hellraptor: Thanks a lot, that means quite a bit to me, especially how your fics helped humanise the Dimitrescus and expand not only on their characters, but those of the Four Lords and other denizens of the village. I accidentally left out the meaning of Cioarăfsat in previous annotations, but it was my (probably shitty) attempt at a Romanian name for 'Crow Village' or 'Crowsville'.

WhiteElfElder: I try to vary things whether Dumbledore is a villain or not in my stories, depending on whether they need him as an antagonist. And Snape does NOT have Lily's body, nor is he the one twisting her into a parody of herself. He just goes every now and then to where she is held, to refresh his masturbatory fantasy material. Most of this story is focused on Harry and Daniela's relationship. The antagonists won't make their play until much later in the fic.

No numbered annotations this time.