CHAPTER 18:
APPLIED MICROBIOLOGY AND ALCHEMY
Harry stared at the various readouts, and then handed it to Hermione, who frowned. "Negative-sense single-strand RNA…this morphology seems familiar."
Daniela, who was also present, all but snatched the papers from Hermione. "…Why does that sound familiar, iubit?"
"Because it sounds like it belongs to the Rhabdoviridae family."
Hermione's eyes widened at Harry's proclamation. "Of course! Rabies!"
"Rabies?" Daniela peered at the paper again. "So, the werewolf pathogen is similar to rabies?"
"Which makes a perverse sense. Though I don't think it's a pure relative of rabies and other lyssaviruses, but possibly a hybrid, something created by magic, possibly by hybridising with another virus, possibly a retrovirus," Harry mused. They had been analysing samples of the werewolf virus from samples donated by Remus. Hermione had insisted on coming to this session at least, if only out of curiosity.
"Except retroviruses have two strands of RNA, not one," Hermione pointed out.
"But there's still traces of reverse transcriptase in affected cells, according to the analysis," Harry said, waving a hand at the equipment, some of which wasn't readily available to even places like the CDC. Some had been custom-built by companies like Umbrella or Tricell, and it had cost the Duke a pretty penny to get a hold of it. "Being infected with the virus inflicts a permanent mutation, albeit one that is somehow only expressed on the night of the full moon, and specifically by exposure to the light of the full moon. Whereas Mutamycete lycanthropy induces a permanent transformation into an aggressive beast that has some sort of atavistic reversion."
"Translation: big bad mould turns man-things into just plain things," Daniela remarked. "Lycans and their variants seem to be the most common mutation from the Cadou. Mutations like that of my family are uncommon. Miranda's not sure if genetic factors are involved, as well as prior Mutamycete exposure."
"Those are probably factors. I studied the mutations myself, specialising in your mother when I became her personal physician," Harry mused. "While your mutations are very different, you, your sisters and your mother do share a hunger for flesh and blood, as well as an extremely efficient regeneration ability, better than most Mutamycete hybrids. It might also have something to do with the genetics of the nematodes hybridised with the Mutamycete to create a Cadou. I know for a fact that Miranda experimented with different species of nematode."
"Still, the thought of the werewolf virus being a hybrid one is a fascinating one," Hermione said, changing the subject away from the admittedly uncomfortable one of the Cadou mutants and their crimes. "But if it was hybridised using magic, how was it done?"
"I daresay it was through alchemy."
As one, the trio turned to look at their hitherto silent observer, the Duke. The man was reading what appeared to be a first edition of Don Quixote, at least until he made his remark. "You seem to think that the case through experience, Duke," Harry remarked.
"Ah yes, I do have more than a little experience with alchemy," the rotund man admitted. "In truth, it is thanks to alchemy that I have lived for as long as I have."
"A Philosopher's Stone?" Hermione immediately queried. Harry had told the Duke of his misadventures in his first year at Hogwarts, and had noted the man's coy smile when discussing the Flamels' fate.
"Yes…and no." With a gentle sigh, the Duke set his book aside. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you. Consider it a cautionary tale. As Harry knows, my real name is Duke Aaron Henry Slughorn. More to the point, my birth name was actually FitzRoy."
"FitzRoy?" Hermione asked with a frown. "So, given that you identify with the name of Slughorn, that means that you were the illegitimate child of a king."
"A bastard, my dear girl, I wouldn't be offended if you called me that. And considering some of the things I have been responsible for over the centuries…well, calling me a figurative bastard would be not inaccurate," the Duke said, his expression falling. "Shortly before Henry VIII married Catherine of Aragon, mere weeks after his father Henry VII died, he had a night of passion with a daughter of the Slughorn family. They were both 17. It was something of a scandal that my mother had been impregnated by a Muggle, even if he was the King of England. My mother barely escaped being disowned completely, if only because having a royal bastard could be used to their advantage. I went to Hogwarts, and became known for my sloth and gluttony. But I was also a Slytherin, for I had ambitions to become great and renowned. Not as a king, but as the greatest alchemist of all time."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You sound like you had an ego too."
The Duke chortled. "Of course. I began my mercantile pursuits early in life, acting as a broker of sorts for students at Hogwarts to get forbidden supplies. When I graduated, my family introduced me to my father. This was during the last stages of his marriage to Catherine, mind, and not far from the tyrant he would later become. And while I was not exactly a prodigy at alchemy, I was sufficiently competent that the then-Headmaster wrote a letter of recommendation to one of the best alchemists in the world: Theophrastus von Hohenheim, better known as…"
"Paracelsus!" Hermione gasped in recognition.
"Paracelsus?" Harry mused. "The so-called father of modern toxicology? And noted alchemist?"
"The very same. He had a rather public career in what was considered the sciences at the time, having been tutored in magic privately rather than going to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. It took some time for Paracelsus to accept me as an apprentice, but eventually, I was. And that's where it went wrong. You see, the Flamels' success in creating a Philosopher's Stone sparked off an intense resurgence of interest in recreating their success over the past century, and Paracelsus was on the cusp of doing so. However, he and I clashed rather badly. Most of it was, admittedly, my fault. Knowing I was the son of a king, despite being a bastard, went to my head, and I was an unabashed egotist. Then again, so was Paracelsus, when it came to his alchemy at least. I think that's partly why we clashed. We saw each other as mirror images of ourselves, and thus our faults embodied."
"And I'm guessing you broke things off with him?"
"Oh, worse than that. Paracelsus had managed to develop a Philosopher's Stone, and others caught word. He had to shift its hiding spot often to deter the thieves. However, he made a mistake. I had a number of boxes I used to store confectionary. I'd created them with alchemy and cooking. Despite knowing I had them for my own use, he opted to hide it in there anyway. Now, I don't know what size the Philosopher's Stone the Flamels used was, but the one Paracelsus created was little bigger than a lozenge. Still effective, he was already experimenting with chrysopoeia, what you and I would call transmutation from base elements into gold, but small."
Harry realised it at about the same time Hermione and Daniela did. Daniela was the first to respond, with laughter. "Oh my God, you ate it. You fucking ate a Philosopher's Stone. What, do you shit gold or something?"
"Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, no," the Duke said with a chortle of his own, before his expression became solemn. "I didn't realise what I had done until my master came back home and saw the box. We had a blazing row, until he cut me off from my apprenticeship, and sent me home in disgrace. However, as one spiteful last gesture, he sent a letter ahead of me, to my so-called loving family, and to Henry VIII as well, detailing what had happened. My family were greedy, even though they weren't particularly destitute, and Henry VIII, despite being a king, was always hungry for money, as he was a profligate spender as you well know. They sought to tear me open and pull the Philosopher's Stone out of me. I fled with what riches I could secure, and put my name under the Fidelius, my hopes and dreams in ruins. But I was alive, and had become immortal. Indeed, the Philosopher's Stone had not lodged in my body. Rather, I digested it, and every part of me became immortal. A few who tried to replicate my feat, having heard about it from Paracelsus, ended up dying, often in horrible ways, or stupid ways. Whether that was because they didn't use a proper Philosopher's Stone, or because I was a fluke, nobody knows."
"…And you were hunted for it?" Hermione asked solemnly.
"Paracelsus was not forgiving. Neither were my family, or Henry VIII. I kept a low profile for a few decades. I made myself a name as a merchant of goods, helping some of the lesser pirates who raided Spanish ships in the Caribbean but did not have a letter of marque offload their goods. I became known to Sir Francis Walsingham, and through his influence, I met my half-sister, Elizabeth I. While she did possess a few of our father's less salubrious attributes, including a fiery temper, I found her, on the whole, a much more pleasant monarch and person than our father, or our siblings for that matter. It was Elizabeth who ennobled me, albeit after considerable work on her behalf. I was also her half-sibling, and she was hoping to curry my favour so that I did not instigate a coup against her. I told her more than once that ruling was not my desire, but mere commerce and hedonism. Ah, what a woman. Her like was too-rare in the world at the time. Admittedly, my dukedom, or rather, the domain of my dukedom, was fictional, but the title was very real. I helped supply my half-sister with goods and services, as well as information that kept her firmly on the throne. I'd like to think that the medicines I concocted helped keep her alive into her old age. But then, she died, and I had to fade into obscurity once more, for James I was paranoid about threats to his throne, and towards magic. And as I was Elizabeth's half-brother, he'd also be worried that I wished for the throne."
"So you spent all those centuries in hiding?" Harry asked.
"Less in hiding and more in obscurity. With my true name hidden under the Fidelius, and all but forgotten by the wizarding world at large, I was becoming known as the Duke," the Duke said.
They then heard a rasping chuckle from the Vanishing Cabinet. Harry hadn't noticed anything, and judging by their looks, neither did Hermione or Daniela, and considering the senses of the latter, that was impressive. "Whereas I have to make do with a lowly 'Merchant'," growled out a voice with a pirate-like West Counties accent, before a man in a hooded coat and with a purple bandanna over his lower face appeared.
The Duke smiled, and Harry noticed that Daniela was relaxing too, so presumably she knew him. "My dear fellow, when did you get here?"
"Just in time to hear you claim you were Elizabeth the First's half-brother, you bloody shameless name-dropper," the man said. "So, where are we? The Countess claimed you were on business under Hogwarts, but this doesn't look like any part of Hogwarts I've ever seen."
"This is the Chamber of Secrets."
"What?! You're bloody kidding me, Duke! This is Salazar Slytherin's little lair?" The man looked around in sheer surprise. "And Harry Potter and Daniela Dimitrescu are working together? What the hell is the world coming to? And I thought nothing would surprise me."
"…I presume you two know each other?" Harry asked uncertainly. He'd remained as Harry while with Hermione, as she was more comfortable around his teenaged form rather than his adult Henric form. And just as well, considering, well, this.
"This is the Merchant. Yes, I know, it's not a very original name, but it's his chosen nom de guerre. I considered him…an apprentice of sorts many years ago, when he managed to Apparate blindly into my shop, half-drowned and on the verge of dying. It took him some time to recover not only his health, but his memories."
"And I was ashamed of them…and the brand left on me." The Merchant rolled up his sleeve, revealing a tattoo with a skull, from which a snake emerged. "The Dark Mark, the symbol of the Death Eaters. If I could remove it, I would."
"You were a Death Eater?" Harry asked. He nearly got aggressive, but if the Duke and Daniela trusted him, he would extend a tentative offer of the same.
"To my shame. That ended when I realised what the Dark Lord truly was. What your mother did, I cheered, even if it hasn't killed that bastard for good. But I knew too many of my family who fell under his spell. Two of my cousins, wedded to Death Eaters, and one becoming his most trusted lieutenant. And another of my family…well, the Duke told me the last time we talked that there was some doubt about his guilt."
"…You're related to Sirius, aren't you?" Harry asked, putting the pieces together.
"…I was his younger brother. Though I'd doubt that he'd let me help him if he was innocent." He tugged down his bandanna, revealing careworn, once haughtily handsome features. "Regulus Arcturus Black, at your service…"
CHAPTER 18 ANNOTATIONS:
So, a double whammy of exposition, with some things I had been holding on since the beginning of this fic. Firstly, the Duke's backstory, or at least that which I derived for this fic. While his being an illegitimate child of Henry VIII was a late addition, his apprenticeship with Paracelsus, or at least a famous alchemist, was set in stone as I was conceiving this story, along with the broad strokes history of his life.
As for the Merchant being Regulus Black, well, that was another thing I conceived of for this story at about the same time I conceived the Duke's rough draft backstory. It just seemed…apt. I get the feeling that he affects a pirate/Mummerset accent simply because Sirius once snuck him out to watch a pirate film when they were young. He's not sure of Sirius' innocence, and to tell the truth, he knows that, if he made himself known to Sirius, it'd probably devolve into a clash. He hasn't made himself known to Kreacher because he's left that life behind out of atonement.
Review-answering time! edboy4926: A good question, given that Ada Wong is probably a pseudonym, and I can see a Squib relative of Cho's going into mercenary work, but I'm basically going with 'no'.
No numbered annotations this time.
