"Any idea how this happened, Albus?" Harry finally asked after reading through the rest of the article and finding out that a generous family had donated the Diadem's Gem to the museum and it would be on display for the next few months before returning to its original owners.
"Honestly I'm not quite sure myself. Tom never seemed the type to hide his Horcruxes so far from home, this far away there is no telling what could happen to it, and if something did, or if someone found it, it would take him that much longer to reach it. So there is some other things afoot, thankfully the curator of the museum is a good friend of mine." Dumbledore mused over his breakfast.
"When do you plan on going?" Vanessa asked through a piece of toast.
"I'll establish contact with him today and hopefully set up a meeting for tomorrow. I suggest you two spend the day gathering information in the magical part of Paris and then we meet up here later tonight." Dumbledore suggested.
"Sounds like a plan to me," Harry said with a nod, "I guess we can start out by finding out if the acquisition was legal or not."
Dumbledore's nose scrunched a bit as he stared at the two teens sharing a knowing glance. "And how, pray tell, do you intend to find that out?"
"It might be a few years ago… okay, maybe two decades, but we should still be able to find some of our old contacts and see if they are still in business… or have yet to start business? I don't' know, we'll find someone!" Vanessa replied with a dismissive hand wave.
"Would you be facing danger?" Dumbledore inquired.
"No, not really. All of them are mostly harmless, and none of them is magical. Two are squibs and two others just happened upon the magical world. No real danger from them." Harry added before taking a gulp of his juice.
"Alright," Dumbledore mumbled with uncertainty, "We'll meet back up here tonight around dinner, then we'll compare information and move from there."
"Sounds like a plan," Harry replied.
The rest of breakfast went by in relative silence. As they planned, Dumbledore went his own way soon after they had eaten. He was going to speak with his contact and then do his own investigation in the parts of the city only he could go… old he might be, but he still had his ways.
The two younger magicals were standing in their room and looking at one another, an awkward tone hanging in the air.
"You ready?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, think it's going to hurt again?" Vanessa replied with a flinch at the memory.
"I don't know." He said. With a deep breath, Harry weaved the spell on Vanessa first. He watched the change happen and was content when it finished and Vanessa didn't seem to have suffered any undue pain in any form. Though he recognized the tell-tale sign of hurt limbs, much like he felt when he transformed.
"You good?"
"Kinda, arms hurt a bit, otherwise I'm good," she replied weakly and went to sit on the bed.
With a nod, Harry swung his wand one more time, this time with himself as the target. The feeling of his limbs growing hurt as usual, but the small pain in the back of his head returned, though a lot more subtle. Seizing the opportunity he went into his mindscape and watched the well defended castle he used as a defense against legilimens attacks. There was a slight dark haze surrounding the tower where he kept his memories locked away in. It was a bit worrying and told him that someone had fiddled with his memories. The problem would be identifying when and where.
"Harry?" Vanessa's voice broke him out of his musings and he looked at her with a kind smile.
"Sorry about that, got lost on an idea for a moment," he replied as he went to the closet and pulled out the outfit Vanessa had planned for him, "we should be ready to go now. Who do we start with?"
"I think Michael might be our best shot. He has been in the business the longest, and even your aunt knew him so that is a good sign," Vanessa stated as she observed Harry getting dressed and judging the clothes now sitting on his body one last time, "he's supposed to be active down near the Eiffel Tower around this time."
"Any idea on how we are going to explain how we found him?" Looking down, Harry thought the clothes were a little snug in the wand region… then again, Vanessa always had a… thing … for tight clothes on men.
"Tell him the truth? He's definitely heard weirder shit from us," and she was appreciating just how tight she had made those pants.
"That he has, but there's a limit to how far we can stretch it," and he was not just talking about their explanation here.
"Tell him we heard about his services through a common friend?" she finally suggested after finishing doing her hair.
With one last pouty glance towards his so comfy jeans, Harry nodded and guided them both out the door.
The streets of Paris were not as familiar as the two had hoped. The year's following Harry's entrance into the mercenary world had not been kind to the city. Some of the streets were not yet destroyed, and some of the ones they knew were simply not there. Trial and error, and no small amount of broken French later, led them to the base of the Eifel Tower.
"He shouldn't be that hard to spot," Harry mused as he took in the sights around him. Paris was still a beautiful city after all.
"There." Vanessa deadpanned and Harry followed her pointed finger.
Michael, even when they knew him, was always a scarily tall fella. Standing a monstrous 7 feet tall, Michael was towering over every other person on the street. Even when he was sitting at a bench, his head was poking out slightly among the crowd. His hair was longer, reaching down to his shoulders, it looked messier than they remembered. His clothes were clearly unwashed and his eyes, dark-blue, that usually held a spark of mischief and bravado, where looking uncharacteristically dead.
They walked over without a care and placed themselves on either side of him as he sat on the bench. Brandishing his wand without a care, Harry tossed up a muggle repelling ward, two silencing charms and a powerful Disillusionment charm.
"Ain't often I get wizarding customers. What can I do ya for?" His voice was rough and low, growl than anything else, a perfect fit for his British origin. He seemed to haven't had much use for it recently.
"Recently the Louvre came into possession of a very valuable gem." Vanessa's tone was perfectly level, betraying nothing about her feelings on the situation.
"Aye," Michael grumbled, "they did indeed. Ya reckon it wasn't all that legal?"
"Was it?" Harry interjected with a bit of steel entering his voice; he never liked Michael's way of talking.
"No," the tall bastard grumbled with a head shake, "Some family originally had the thing, "suddenly" they decided to lend it to the museum." He began cackling a little as he spoke, "bastards probably found out that Andre Delacour shagged a Veela and had two little hellspawn of his own."
Vanessa caught how Harry had twitched at the mention of the Delacour family. He'd never mentioned them before, most likely because he didn't have fond memories of them, or because he didn't wish to remember them.
"Why would Monsieur Delacour's marriage to a Veela be a problem?" she asked, not fully understanding what a Veela was.
Michael apparently caught it as he spoke. "A Veela isn't human, lass. Much they might like to tell you that they are only "half" or "quarter" Veela, is all shit I tell ya. Either yer a full Veela or yer a human. Appoline Delacour is most definitely a Veela. The problem ain't in her being a Veela, the problem lay in her two hellspawn she calls children. A Veela doesn't fully mature until they turn seventeen, until then they be as big a danger to the public as a good ole muggle bomb. Ye piss one off enough and they be transforming into that bird form of theirs and roast ya real good."
"Does the French not look favorably on Veela or something? Since the museum can apparently use it against Monsieur Delacour to acquire the gem." Vanessa interrupted.
"Hah! Ain't nothin to do with that girly. Ya see, a young Veela is a popular pet for some of the nastier wizarding folk. Once they are old enough, they make for excellent sex slaves for their masters. I reckon the owner of the museum threatened dear old Andre with taking his two girls from 'im if he didn't comply and fork over the gem." Michael explained with a sour expression.
"That's…" she seemed at loss for words. "Why didn't he report the owner then?" she asked when she had found her voice.
"She can't," Harry said before Michael could open his mouth, "In France the Veela are considered Magical Beasts and have no rights, much like Werewolfs back in Britain. Most people stay clear of their colonies and just leave them be. Every so often one of them shows up in civilization and marries a human. This leads to issues more often than not, and I imagine Monsieur Delacour still feels those issues to this day."
Michael nodded his head knowingly, "Aye lad, he does. Appoline has done much for Veela relations in France, but Andre isn't much a politician. He's an Indicible , I believe the English word for it is "Unspeakable," and such doesn't have much political weight."
"Thanks for the information." Tossing five galleons to the man, Harry rose and Vanessa followed soon after. Neither paid any attention to Michael yelling for them to come back anytime.
"He's… different." Vanessa said once they had gotten a fair bit away.
"He's yet to come into power here in France it seems. But he gave us what we needed." Harry replied with the same sullen expression on his face that he had held since the Delacour name was mentioned.
"Well you're happy about the news."
"Delacour… I've bad memories associated with the name. Their oldest daughter, Fleur, and I fought in a tournament during my fourth year. Though I saved her sister, I never quite shook the feeling she didn't like me much. Honestly the emotion is shared."
"And we are most likely going to have to speak with them."
"Yes. Arguably this is a few years before I met them originally, but I assume those few years can't mean much in the long run. Fleur is likely still very arrogant and guarded due to her Veela nature, Gabrielle will probably still act like a young girl, very excitable about everything. Her parents… well, I never spoke much with either but at best Appoline is an older version of Fleur, whereas Andre seems to be a bit more quiet, likely a side effect of his job."
"A bit apprehensive about going to see them?"
"Of course. I've always been resistant, if not borderline immune, to the Veela allure. It does… something… to their mentality when they encounter someone like me. I know Andre is immune to the Allure, which is why Appoline married him. From what I have learned, it triggers a sort of… mating signal? In their heads when they find someone strong enough to ignore them. Fleur found it interesting in me, but thankfully my age kept her at bay in the beginning. Sadly, like so many others, Veela still react to displays of power. Out flying a dragon certainly counted as that."
"So am I going to have to worry?"
"No, not unless you fall under the allure."
"I can do that?"
"Yeah. The allure, depending on how strong, can affect both sexes. Luckily for you it only has a complete effect if you are a lesbian, otherwise it becomes this… mild compulsion towards the person."
"Good. What about you, will it cause something that you are resistant?"
"It shouldn't. Appoline is married, and Fleur will only see me as a twelve year old. That should guarantee that there won't be any incidents."
"What about the youngest?"
"Gabrielle? She isn't old enough yet to have developed her Allure. Shouldn't be a problem."
"I guess we will see, won't we?"
"I guess."
The three had gathered when the sun began falling beyond the horizon. Dumbledore had looked quite pleased with how the day had gone for him, though he had said he would explain once they had eaten.
So that's where they were. Sitting in a restaurant and enjoying their dinner.
"So what did you find, Albus?" Asked Harry when he finally had had enough of sitting in silence.
"I got into contact with my old acquaintance and he agreed to see me today. Sadly he didn't have much about the acquisition of the gem, from what he said, the owner of the magical museum came in one day and handed him the gem. Though he did give me an address on where they were to send any information regarding the potential theft of the item." The elderly wizard slid a piece of paper over the table for the two youths to see.
"Delacour's address, isn't it, Harry?" Vanessa said, tapping the paper twice.
Harry nodded and looked up at Dumbledore's questioning gaze. "We met with our own informant. The owner of the magical part of the museum blackmailed the head of the Delacour family to hand over the gem in the Diadem."
Dumbledore's mouth formed the familiar "ah" sound as he stroked his long white beard in thought. The two younger magicals returned to their dinner as their Headmaster contemplated his next move, obviously this new information had given him things to contemplate.
"I think…" Dumbledore began after a few minutes, "that we ought to pay the Delacours a visit, if nothing else simply to warn them of the potential dark artifact in their possession."
Noticing the sour look on Harry's face, the elderly wizard inquired into what was bothering him and Harry told him everything about his fourth year, once more leaving the aged headmaster with a sense of grief over what his other self had forced upon the young man.
"I shall be a brief visit then. You may even choose not to come with, if it makes it easier for you."
"It's fine, Albus. I need to be there and see for myself what their reaction is."
Nodding silently, the headmaster continued his dinner and the two youths followed suit. The rest of their afternoon continued on with a heavy silence hanging over their heads. Before parting for the night, they agreed to meet up at lunch tomorrow. Dumbledore would have made contact with the Delacours before then.
Where Dumbledore chose to retreat to his room for a comfortable bath and a good book, his two young friends donned their aged forms and headed out into the nightlife. If they were going to see the Delacours then Harry was going to get blindingly drunk tonight, anything to dull the meeting sure to come.
Safe to say, the magical underground in Paris had one hell of a mess on their hands, come the morning.