Today is an important day: Hogwarts will reopen after the winter holidays. The Minister of Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge, will be present. Wizarding England has never had such a Minister of Magic, with his protector being none other than Voldemort! What can be said about Fudge? He is not a fool, but a bureaucrat. He reviews documents and draws conclusions based on the information presented. He sees the well-dressed people who greet him enthusiastically and rejoices. The outcome is clear: his Minister of Finance is Lucius Malfoy, and his head of security is Jugson – a criminal.
I stood in front of the Minister, disguised, and listened to his orders. "We are not going into battle, but to school. However, issues may arise. Jugson spoke highly of your qualifications. I hope you will not disappoint me. Do you understand everything, Williams?"
"Yes, Mister Minister," I answered, bowing slightly.
"No need to bow," he instructed. Five more guards and I took the Minister in a box, arriving at Hogwarts via the Floo Powder network. First, there would be a meeting with the teachers, then a speech to the students.
"Hello, I have come to discuss the changes at Hogwarts with you," the Minister of Magic began, but I did not listen. I knew this speech by heart. The Hogwarts premises had been completely restored, but the staff had changed. The Gamekeeper was on the run, and most of the teachers had been dismissed for "criminal negligence resulting in human casualties." Only two remained: Sybill Trelawney, who had spent the entire battle with the Basilisk in her tower, and Severus Snape, the Dean of Slytherin and now the Deputy Headmaster.
I appointed Barty Crouch as the Dean of Hufflepuff. He was a positive guy who could spread the power of love to the masses, although I forbade him from engaging with students — if he really wanted that, he could wait until after graduation. Paul Morgan, a middling Unspeakable, was appointed Dean of Ravenclaw. He was a rather silent and unsociable wizard with no experience working with children, but that was acceptable for Ravenclaw.
However, I was truly astonished by the appointment of Zlatopust Lockhart as Dean of Gryffindor. This was my most significant failure. I managed to outsmart Dumbledore, forcing him to chase windmills like Don Quixote, dying near my nonexistent Horcruxes. But with Lockhart, I was utterly helpless. Charles Nott reported that Lockhart was untrainable. I could easily make him do anything — through torture or the Imperius Curse — but neither Nott nor I could compel him to study or retain anything beyond the second-year curriculum.
Lockhart displayed an indescribable laziness combined with mediocrity and a stubborn belief that he could escape consequences. Even with my curses, I could not make Lockhart sit down with his textbooks. I tried to make him study under the Imperius, but he followed the letter of the command to the letter, ignoring its spirit! For instance, he could read a textbook without remembering it or understand it but could not articulate it. The result was a unique golem with real-time manual control!
In the end, I admitted my defeat. I could easily kill this fool or subdue him with the Imperius, making him torture his own mother, but forcing Lockhart to productively study his textbooks was beyond my powers. Intrigues proved useless; he simply did nothing but preen. After a few months, my nerves frayed, and then Nott's. The only correct decision was to change his psyche — to create a new personality. The operation was long, complex, and time-consuming.
I succeeded with Nymphadora Tonks and Diana Crouch, but failed with Lockhart! I erased all of Lockhart's memories above the age of eight. He woke up reborn. I tried to correct his personality again and almost succeeded. Not quite what I wanted, but something acceptable. After all, if you input information into a blank slate, knowing how the mind will react to false memories, you can achieve the desired effect.
The new Lockhart studied for almost half a year under a time-turner, with a time expansion coefficient of one to four, focusing solely on Defense Against the Dark Arts. He mastered the Hogwarts program in DADA! Lockhart became loyal to me and met the qualification criteria for Hogwarts, but unfortunately, we could not change some aspects of him. He still dressed like a peacock, capable of outshining Albus Dumbledore's appearance. He remained ambitious and clingy, like a leech.
At the same time, I remade his body — it turned out to be akin to a combat uniform for ordinary Death Eaters. You can't defeat a werewolf in hand-to-hand combat, but he is much stronger and faster than even a well-trained person, and he doesn't appear as a mountain of muscles.
I appointed those who expressed interest as teachers, mostly Muggle-borns from other countries, raising their salaries compared to the previous Hogwarts staff. As people, they were quite ordinary — not sadists or ideological supporters of me or Albus — and as specialists, they were average. But that was the plan: after seven years at Hogwarts, when the last students who remembered Dumbledore leave, we would start changing the curriculum in the right direction. We would introduce Dark Magic in quantities that would not harm the mind. Some purebloods would have access to it three times more than ordinary Muggle-borns. Not because they are better, but because they have advantages that Muggle-borns do not have, yet we would not disclose this to anyone.
The conversation between the Minister of Magic and the Hogwarts teachers was coming to an end. "Headmaster, would you like to walk me to the Great Hall? It's been so long since I studied here; I might not find…" Fudge suggested to Lockhart. We left. While the teachers were led to the Great Hall by Barty and Snape (our teachers are no longer locals; some of them are not even wizards), Fudge went the other way with Lockhart. They cast a spell meant to muffle their voices, but not when Lockhart was under my Listening Spell.
"You have an incredible resume," Fudge began. "The Board of Governors voted almost unanimously for you. But aren't you a little young for such a position? You didn't even finish your seventh year at Hogwarts!"
"Life is measured not by years, but by actions. Besides, the monster doesn't care whether a wizard has a diploma or not. I assure you, I can handle my duties. If there are any complaints, I'm ready to leave."
"There's no need for such a defeatist attitude. But the job of a headmaster is, in many ways, an educational job. Your costume allows you to…" Fudge looked at Lockhart's jester's outfit, perhaps wondering if there was some secret instruction that the headmaster of Hogwarts must dress as brightly as possible.
"That you support the number one undesirable person?" Lockhart replied.
"Albus Dumbledore? No, of course not. I just like to dress brightly. My loyalty lies with the Ministry of Magic. If you have any requests for the organization of the educational process…"
"I would like to send a High Inspector to Hogwarts… with unlimited powers," the Minister stated.
"Of course. I can provide you information myself. First-hand," Lockhart replied.
"In that case… many people's first year of teaching is not very productive. Unless you make some truly monstrous mistakes… you may remain the headmaster of Hogwarts."
"Thank you, Minister," Lockhart replied.
Soon we entered the Great Hall of Hogwarts. In addition to the wizarding teachers, there were now Muggle teachers. Filch would no longer be the only Squib if he survived the Basilisk raid. Almost half of all the Ministry's security personnel — the Aurors, as they are called — were present at Hogwarts, just in case.
Soon, the children were let in, who began to sit down. There were many more children than usual — three times as many. Children could still study abroad or at home (at least half-bloods did), but all other magical schools in Britain had been abolished. Now Hogwarts was not just the best school in magical England; it was the only one. I mean, the only one for humans — for werewolves, there was another.
It all started with the opening speech. Pomona Sprout spoke; I had to influence her a little and temporarily drag her from the werewolf school so she could present everything correctly — she was needed to calm the children down. She introduced the new employees and spoke of the terrible coincidences, of the victims of the Basilisk that could not be stopped, of the miracle that Hogwarts had not been closed at all, and there was no point in resisting the "increased security measures."
Then everyone stood and observed a moment of silence for the deceased Hogwarts students. But this would not happen again — these problems were to be resolved personally by the Minister of Magic, the people's representative, Cornelius Fudge. Then Fudge spoke.
"All teachers who allowed the children to die should have been held criminally liable. But since this was primarily a consequence of force majeure, it was decided to simply suspend them from work. The only exception is Severus Snape, who saved four students, not from his own faculty. Let's applaud him — this modest guy doesn't even wear state awards."
There was applause, though very thin. Some of the Slytherins and the children saved by Snape clapped. The Minister continued his speech.
"Please understand the increased patrols. The Chamber of Secrets has not been found, but experts say it's now just an empty terrarium. The curriculum has also changed."
Silence reigned in the Great Hall. It seemed that the Minister of Magic would now talk about Dark Magic or the Cruciatus punishment of the guilty — even the most incurious people already knew that Albus Dumbledore was wanted. The newspapers wrote about him! And there is also the book "The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore" and more.
Waiting for a change in policy, angry cries froze on the lips of the children, or triumphant ones.
"The criminal racist regime has been recruiting from Hogwarts for too long! The Ministry has identified a fundamental error! Down with the Dark Ages of racism and segregation! Some children have never seen Muggles at all! Naturally, they grow up racists! After that, they can only have one idol! Other children are torn away from their Muggle parents; they have no points of intersection with their family! The poor kids can't even return to the Muggle world after Hogwarts, because their freedom has been taken away: Muggle subjects are not taught at Hogwarts. They are forced to support radical views! Join the Order of the Phoenix! Now everything will be different!"
Fudge had completely lost his fear — he was convinced of the complete incompetence of the wizards opposing him. If it weren't for my patronage, he would have been buried long ago. But from the outside, he looked respectable. Two in my inner circle had already asked to be present at his execution. Everything would happen after Dumbledore's death.
Fudge continued: "The Ministry of Magic will take measures to effectively protect Hogwarts students! In the hierarchy of human rights, the right to freedom occupies a special place. The previous structure of the magical world leads to the dehumanization of society, which is the decomposition of the very basis of civilized relations between people who treat each other as holders of intangible values such as dignity.
"Human society is woven from invisible, immaterial threads that shape public consciousness, invisibly shaping us. If these threads represent values like dignity, mutual support, mercy, compassion, and love, then society is built correctly. Public institutions, one of which is the state, provide support for these intangible values, woven into a network that allows the formation of a structure of common life.
"In a civilized society, everyone has value simply because they exist — regardless of gender, race, origin, health, or wealth. In such a society, the function of a tramp who asks for alms every morning can be read by society as a function of awakening mercy, compassion, and love for one's neighbor. In such a society, the questions 'Why nurse premature babies with obvious signs of disability and incurable diseases?' disappear. Each person plays their role in such a society!"
The word "Muggle" or "Muggle-born" is now unacceptable! You must now say "non-wizard"! The word "Squib" is now unacceptable! You must say "weak-wizard"!
Hogwarts will teach non-magical subjects to everyone who wants to! They will issue diplomas equivalent to a Muggle correspondence course! And who can handle this better than non-wizards? That is why Hogwarts will now have non-wizard teachers! For all purebloods and half-bloods, Muggle Studies, I beg your pardon, "non-wizard Studies," is becoming a mandatory subject, and it will be taught by a non-wizard! For all those born to non-wizards and half-bloods, "Magic Studies" is becoming a mandatory subject!
It had been a long time since I had seen more than two thousand children with their mouths open and their eyes bulging in one place, especially the children of wizards. Shutting them up was an unrealistic task. But now they were silent.
"But… they are… Muggles…" someone from Slytherin said.
"Minus ten points from Slytherin," Severus Snape responded.
"There! This is an outrageous example of racism! From now on, the wizarding world will only move in the direction of ever greater tolerance and human rights!" the Minister of Magic declared.
"And what about… the Statute of Secrecy?" a girl from Ravenclaw asked.
"The Statute remains in place. An individual non-wizard is completely sane. The problem is the complete economic and political incompatibility of our societies, as well as the fact that non-humans, such as werewolves, are also full citizens of the wizarding world," the new Dean of Ravenclaw spoke.
"Our new non-magic teachers work under a voluntary legal contract: money and healing from specific diseases. In the non-magical world, they are on foreign assignments. At the end of their contracts, they will receive their salaries and their Memory Charms. They can continue working with us next year if they wish. However, they are teachers, and you must treat them with due respect."
"Thank you, Mr. Morgan," Fudge continued. "It should also be noted that almost all of your teachers used to be at least half-bloods. Racism will not pass! Now almost all of your teachers are descended from non-wizards! Moreover, there will be many more students at Hogwarts now — it is now a school for all children in magical England! Previously, children whose gifts were not as strong were taught in other schools. But the days of racism and criminal segregation, as I said, are over! Now all children will see Hogwarts! It may be difficult for some to catch up, but it is worth at least trying!"
The Minister spoke on, and I could feel the children's worldviews shattering. Where was the expulsion of all non-purebloods? Where was the only house — Slytherin?
"I would also like to inform you that now anyone who wishes, especially orphans, can stay at Hogwarts for the summer! The boarding school is obliged to help the children! Orphans will either be given guardians, or, if they are against it, will live here until they come of age!
"I would also like to remind you that now every citizen of magical England receives an allowance from birth to death. I understand that the amount is small and corresponds to the salary of a very low-skilled worker, but it is enough to live on. And no one, of course, forbids you from working after Hogwarts. However, spend your money wisely!"
A new wave of whispers flooded Hogwarts. After all, if you study for seven years… on full state support… (except for the wand)… then in seven years, a quite solid sum will accumulate! And there's still… eleven years before Hogwarts! It's just a pity that the money began to be paid only with the arrival of the new Minister!
Along with surprised glances, adoring ones rushed toward the Minister of Magic, especially from the smartest, who knew how to count, or from the poorest, who needed it. For a second, I envied him — I could see the Minister's thoughts; he was bathing in adoration and enjoying it. When politicians achieve triumph, they experience almost physical pleasure.
"Let me remind you that Dark Magic is strictly forbidden! And let Albus Dumbledore use Hellfire to destroy Salazar Slytherin's Basilisk — this is a bad example! A person can only use what he knows to improve his position. And if he knows how to kill, then sooner or later, he will use it."
Whispers circulated through the hall: "A setup! This could not be!"
"And now I give the floor to the new Headmaster of Hogwarts, the Dean of Gryffindor — Mr. Goldilocks Lockhart!" the Minister of Magic announced, beginning to applaud. Very few followed his example. A couple of shouts rang out from the audience: "Is this the same donkey?" Some still remembered Lockhart.
"I'm glad you remember me," the Headmaster began with a grin. "Many wizards are a little eccentric, so why should I show off all my power? To mock those who will never be able to catch up with me? But I assure you, I can teach you a thing or two."
The atmosphere at Hogwarts immediately deteriorated. Only a few older girls looked at Lockhart with a hint of sexual interest. The rest — especially the boys — regarded him as an idiot they wanted to beat up. But what could be done? The facts were unchangeable. Lockhart now had this image — a glamorous rogue who loved to tease everyone. Yes, he was an egoist, a narcissist, and ambitious. But he knew his stuff. And he was brave!
"We all know how most students feel about school," Lockhart began his prepared speech. "Hogwarts used to be archaic and backward! I myself considered all the textbooks to be abstruse! Even boring! To clear up any misunderstandings, I, as Headmaster of Hogwarts, declare this year the year of renewal for both Hogwarts and its faculties. For example, here is the Hogwarts coat of arms."
Lockhart conjured the Hogwarts Coat of Arms — a shield divided into four parts. Then he waved his wand — and the shield sparkled with a rim along the outline and glowed.
"Yes, this is the original symbol of the school. But the Ministry decided to reject the established order and the too gloomy image. Now we will have a new, major symbol. Yes, for now, it is only a sketch, not approved by the Ministry, but we have to start somewhere! They will restore order in the school: they will make heating, remove drafts…"
There were approving cries. Yes. They would do it. And they would remove that incomprehensible protective spell that Dumbledore made. Sixty curse-breaking wizards were trying to unravel it; I had not even tried — suddenly Albus would find out that I was here.
"Ventilation, remove moving staircases, secure them securely, eliminate disappearing steps…" Lockhart was interrupted by applause and cheers.
"Mr. Binns will be teaching an optional class for those who want it on the goblin rebellions. There will be a new History of Magic teacher…" The applause grew louder.
"We will pay special attention to fire safety. An evacuation plan has been developed in case of an emergency. We will distribute maps of Hogwarts to all who want them and put up 'Exit' signs."
This time, there was applause from first-years, Muggle-borns, and new Hogwarts students — wizards from second-rate schools. I observed and noted that everyone, even the Minister of Magic and Snape, seemed to fade in comparison to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, the new Headmaster of Hogwarts, both in appearance and in the impression made on the students.
"A competition among students for a new slogan for Hogwarts is also announced. 'Don't wake a sleeping dragon.' Baa. Another thing: 'Friend Hogwarts!' or 'Positive place.'"
Lockhart finished his speech, announced the beginning of the festive dinner, and sorting began synchronously. I had an idea — instead of the Hat, we could have interviews with the deans, but never mind; let's not break tradition. Hogwarts now had many new students — aged 11 to 17. They needed sorting.
I would continue to study the Hat immediately after the sorting. The Minister of Magic, citing state affairs, left the hall with part of the guards, including me. But before leaving Hogwarts, he decided to visit Trelawney. Let's take another look at this fortune teller. The guards remained outside to wait, and I went in with the Minister.
"Why didn't you show up for the organizational meeting?" asked Fudge.
"That's how the cards fell," she replied.
Sybill looked like a charlatan. Despite being younger than Bellatrix, she appeared worn: shapeless robes, out-of-place accessories, and an overall unkempt appearance. Without the slightest effort, I entered her mind using Legilimency. I had already tested her — a mediocre wizard and a talentless seer. By some miracle, she managed to pass off one somewhat normal prophecy in her life, and Dumbledore took her on out of pity. Fudge shared the same opinion.
"I have no proof of your professional competence. Tell me about your work."
"My Inner Eye sees troubles. People are going blind, the Darkness is consuming them, and even Albus Dumbledore is powerless, although I warned him. No matter how many cards I lay out, Dumbledore prefers to ignore the warnings that fate gives him. Time after time, no matter how I throw them out… A house of lightning. Misfortune. Disaster. A catastrophe. Closer and closer…"
I was a little surprised here. After the Ministry of Magic's capitulation, I received the Department of Mysteries, including classified information. There, I found good protection of the ancestral source, albeit on a human sacrifice. Since Salazar's source is already clean, I live there with my wife and child. Despite everything being covered by the Fidelius from Edward Lestrange, I began to strengthen myself additionally.
In addition, I was going to put on "Alvest's Lightning." Only I decided to do this three days ago, and she predicted it several months ago. Nonsense. Albus Dumbledore would not reach my house under any circumstances! We must insure ourselves: let Lestrange make such protection for himself too.
"And you are the great-great-granddaughter of the famous clairvoyant Cassandra Trelawney? The one who gave absolutely accurate predictions, but no one believed her?"
"Yes," Trelawney confirmed, straightening up a little. "But in my opinion — correct me if I'm wrong — after Cassandra, you are the first in the family to be endowed with clairvoyance?"
"It often passes only through three generations."
"Of course," said the Minister. "Then perhaps you could predict something for me too?" He looked at Trelawney with a tester's smile.
"For you? Or perhaps for your companion?" she asked.
"That's too easy. I've spent a lot of time with Muggles and I'm familiar with psychological tricks, like the cold reading method. Predict something for someone you couldn't see or know. For example, the Head of the Department of Mysteries."
Sybill's lips trembled. She looked around, seeking support, protection from the inspector. I saw in her the look of a hunted animal. That was how Lily looked when I killed her husband and she offered me "anything." But that was nonsense, wasn't it? He just asked for a prediction. And Trelawney reacted as if she were being tortured or raped.
Fudge looked at her with pity. He was already prepared to hear anything and throw her out. Sybill tried to concentrate? Do something? But there was no magic. I looked at her in normal vision, in magical vision, in astral vision — nothing changed.
But no… Her facial expression began to change, becoming absolutely indifferent. I saw something similar in Aberforth Dumbledore's memories when he saw Grindelwald predicting very distant dates. Only comparing Grindelwald with Trelawney was like comparing an atomic icebreaker and a single-tree shuttle.
Legilimency spoke — it does not simulate. Her thoughts vanished from her mind. Then reality disappeared for her. She spoke in a voice that was not her own — too high, too cold, too alien. Sybil, with the expression of a patient with Alzheimer's syndrome, began to speak.
"I foresee… A difficult choice. Cornelius Fudge's attempts to control the school and society are only a distraction from his real enemy. In contrast, there is Albus Dumbledore, whose eyes are open and whose ears are listening, who knows where the real storm is coming from and who is the real source of trouble. Cornelius Fudge will be swept away like a feather in the path of a hurricane. He will lose his post before Uranus enters Jupiter's house again.
"All who remain loyal to Fudge now will lose their wealth, their jobs, and perhaps their lives. Only those who distance themselves from the falling false colossus in time will be able to survive. Make your choice, Alison Harris. Think about who you are and what is more important to you, serving the Dark Lord or yourself. Remember, the train may leave, and there won't be enough seats in the last carriage for everyone!"
She gave the name of the Head of the Department of Mysteries… and this was not inside information from Dumbledore! Fudge turned red with anger. Sybill Trelawney realized what had just happened and covered her mouth with her hand in horror.
"Excuse me, sir… Minister… I seem to have fallen into a trance. Excuse me… I hope I didn't predict anything bad for you? I don't remember making predictions in a trance…"
"Oh, these are just Dumbledore's tricks!" Fudge replied, turning around and heading for the exit.
Oh, these wizards attempting to rid themselves of their powers… I followed the Minister out. Now he spoke to me.
"These are more of Dumbledore's tricks!" — I was informed. "Now I can't fire her, because it will be considered settling scores! This will stay between us, right?"
"Yes," I answered. I would have to keep an eye on my new slippery friend from the Department of Mysteries.
"You know, I understood right away," the Minister began to speak, and I tensed. Kill? Imperius? Oblivion? A double?
"You are a smart man! Don't you want to take the post of High Inspector of Hogwarts?"
"Me?" I was genuinely surprised.
"You. You don't have to attend classes; you will send me reports. And I am relieving you of your job as my security guard."
"As you command," I answered.
The Minister left. But I truly had things to do at Hogwarts: I needed to supervise Lockhart's attendance with the Gryffindors in the tower and his first classes. He would be almost like Moody — if he gaped during a class, he'd catch a Stunning Curse. If he parried or dodged it — well done. If not — lie on the floor.
Lockhart would change Hogwarts: just look at the Muggle Studies class, where the Muggle special forces would arrive with gas, flashbang grenades, and traumatic pistols. And what if he was the Dean of Gryffindor or not? Special forces — it was hard to find enough Squibs with the required qualifications worldwide. A normal plan, and as for inspections — I would still periodically enter Hogwarts invisibly and in the form of a house-elf; metamorphism is very useful.
It was just a pity that we couldn't disconnect the Headmaster from the Source of Hogwarts — but never mind; with his death, we would be able to. But that would come later. I had to go to the Death Eaters' meeting. The meeting was held at Rowley's. Those who had been imprisoned were released. Hello, Travers. You got off easy. A couple more former neutrals showed up, including Alison. The general mood could be described as ecstatic.
I was the only one thinking about how to kill Dumbledore; the rest were dividing the spoils. Everyone was already sure of their unconditional victory. What can I say… Of course, people always claim that they do everything for the sake of morality, ethics, or for God. But in reality, people mostly act for money, fame, and sex. This can be summed up in one word: comfort. Although there are other motives: power and fear, the latter is not the most predictable motive. I knew this before, based on the analysis of their actions; now, thanks to Legilimency.
And moments like saving someone at the cost of their life… People just love a part of themselves in another person. The same selfishness. Although Albus for some reason calls it love. There was a long and detailed conversation among the Death Eaters in raised tones. Some did not understand my plan to distribute money to the population. Idiots. Where was their treachery? Were they seriously going to deprive everyone of their wands and create a giant repressive apparatus? And who would do the work? A supervisor for each?
And labor productivity? Not to mention that a supervisor must understand the work being done! After all, there are examples — many states of this type have plunged into poverty this way or destroyed themselves. Ordinary people would not even notice my coming to power; everything would be as before, only the common people would become a little richer. And the Muggles… What about the Muggles? There are a lot of Muggles. And they are not my tributaries. And if they don't pay me for protection, why should I care about them?
I'm not going to destroy them anyway — just shear them. I'll even protect them — from competitors. After all, the plan is simple: the troops capture the city; they are given it to plunder. We legalized trade with Muggles and gave part of this legal trade to the Ministry, meaning ordinary people would work there! Not because we are kind — but because we lack employees.
How to attract personnel? With money! Work more — you will earn more. Illegal? Trading food and cement with Muggles — illegal? Legal. And the fact that one day everyone became accomplices of Voldemort, most did not even understand. After all, any deal… If something went wrong, go to court. Or to bandits who can help collect debts.
A wizard entered into an agreement with a Muggle. They had problems. Court? Funny. A wizard is not subject to Muggle court. And anyway — the defendant has not been found because of the Statute. I'm not even talking about the colossal inequality of opportunities: you don't have to violate anything, just use Legilimency. A magical court? So a Muggle is not a citizen of the magical world!
And that's it. A wizard and a Muggle — it will be like a monkey with a stone against a nut — the nut cannot win. And we can handle the Dark Rituals and ingredients ourselves, "in a small circle," by hiring trusted individuals. After all, there are a thousand Muggles for every wizard! This is an incredible business! Moreover, only we have this, at least for now.
So, if we don't act foolishly — we will skim the cream of the world. But national states are dead for Muggles: globalism. Muggles can earn money in one country and transfer it to another. For example, to England. We must remind our own that I am not a Light Lord, but a Dark One. If I do something, I need it.
What are new reforms? They are a swallower for fish. The hook inside the fish is that you can pull it. We've only just begun, and there's already a full census.
The master's plan is brilliant and worthy of a true son of Salazar Slytherin," Elena said, under my mental dictation, which is actually Pandora under Imperius. "The goals solved in this way include training the population. Animals are trained with food; people, with money. We do not divide everything equally, but so they do not die. This is the highest kind of revenge — when Albus's former friends voluntarily go against him, wanting to protect their new standard of living.
We also stimulate the increase in the number of our servants through births — after all, they are not golems; you can't just assemble them. Why maintain overseers and wardens, an army of idlers? Why huge prisons? We simply knock the motive to fight out of our enemies and integrate them from childhood into the system of extracting money from Muggles. Money is paid to citizens of the magical world. Muggles are not included.
That is, in the case of a marriage between a wizard and a Muggle, money is paid only to the wizard and for each citizen of the magical world. Not everyone is ready to put sexual desire on par with lifelong money out of thin air.
Why drag weaklings to Hogwarts?" Carrow clarified.
"So that everyone can see that they are weaklings," Elena answered. "The easiest way to make people hate something is to force them to do it. Soon they will start spitting at the word 'equality,' especially when they see how different wizards are in strength. And a Muggle teacher is just a long-term demonstration of a disabled person at school so that no one has any doubts about the superiority of wizards.
"And what about the Squibs?" Mulciber inquired.
"Someone has to hide the Magical World from Muggles. Muggles cannot be trusted. Wizards have other, more important things to do. So, Squibs should be placed in the Muggle media and secret services. But they should receive a Muggle education to work for Muggles, but in a magical place to strengthen loyalty to wizards."
"And werewolves? They received money for it! To Mordred, money — these animals got land!"
"No need to dramatize," answered "Elena." "Money? Either the werewolves receive a salary and fight for us, or they fight against us for free and sit in our prison at our expense. Without money, rights, and work, they will not starve to death — they will go to steal. And now they can only steal from us! There are two ways to get rid of this: either give them bones for their service or kill them. But if we kill them, who will fight? They have proven themselves well; there may be problems on the international stage, and we already have a proven tool. And we are building their school of magic in the form of a citadel in the Stonehenge area — there will be a garrison in case of an attack.
"The Lord gave me some land. I settled guard dogs there. I do not invite anyone to visit me. They obey the law; if they want to walk, let them walk; if they screw up, I will punish them. If you do not agree, we can meet in a duel."
The conversation was slowly dying down.
"And the last initiative for today. Nott, you are now a human rights activist. You will be engaged in the protection of Muggles' rights in the new world. Try to minimize unnecessary losses among Muggles."
"Sir, isn't that contrary to… the spirit of the era?"
"Of course not. You will be protecting the rights of Muggles, not the Muggles themselves. Living or dead, they will retain their rights. Most of the money we spend on protecting Muggles' rights will come back to us in the form of payment for the services of wizards who defend Muggles' rights in court."
"Lord! But his department will be the opposite of mine!" Yaxley exclaimed.
"Excellent. Competition is the key to success. Besides, as far as I know, you can't stand each other. So you won't need to feign false hatred when you meet."
"Mulciber, stay. Snape, wait outside," I ordered.
"Master," Crouch began.
"Wait with Snape," I ordered.
"It's time to talk to Mulciber alone. It's been very difficult with my servants in general, and with some of them in particular. But where money fails, a lot of money can help.
"I even had to introduce a progressive scale of fines for killing Muggles: every Muggle you kill in Britain without sanction is one and a half times more expensive than the previous one. Only by doing this, after reaching the score of '11,' I forced Mulciber to stop celebrating the victory in Azkaban. Moreover, I do not take anything from them. Yes, I take something, but I give others in return.
"Mulciber managed to surprise me during the battle at Azkaban. He performed a set of rituals on himself that allowed him to appear as a weakling both externally and magically. Naturally, his opponents shot at him "without warning," and he survived. Moreover, since the battle was massive, it was foolish to waste area attacks on a single ordinary target. He attacked first throughout the battle and retreated last. He survived, becoming a hero. As a reward, I appointed him to an important position in the Ministry.
Now, I was preparing to criticize him. There was no need to even find fault.
"So," I began, shaking the papers, "I do not like several of your administrative steps."
"I am simply continuing the line of exalting purebloods. After our victory…"
"Mulciber! Muggles are now our cattle! If we kill all our cattle, we will have to plow the fields ourselves! If we torture cattle, they will stop reproducing, and there will be much less money! What are we supposed to do then, fight among ourselves? And if the inferiority of Muggles is so high, then they will die out over time, and the whole world will belong to the wizards! All we need to do to win is do nothing!"
"I do not want to look after cattle all my life."
"So the Mudbloods will do it!" I said. "Then I will have to spend a long time at home scrubbing off the makeup of a medieval feudal lord."
"We just have to convince them that this is for their profit. And this is exactly what you are interfering with!"
"How?" they asked me.
I began to shake the papers. "You allocated two thousand Galleons to make the Diagon Alley Bar and our Muggle entrance even more shabby and run-down."
"Oh, come on! That's how it's always been done! Only that amount wasn't included in the estimate! Only Mudbloods and those who steal from Muggles walk through that passage! A normal wizard can Apparate or Floo! Let the place for garbage look like a garbage dump! There are no purebloods there unless they are true Muggle-lovers!"
He wasn't lying. My mistake. I didn't know such details of the magical world. Neither did I, nor did Tom. But it's all logical — if there are Muggle-bloods there, let it be a pigsty. And we'll laugh at the "inferior race." We have to figure it out.
"Mulciber… times have changed. You did the right thing by including that amount in the estimate. But that money needs to be spent so that the entrance to Diagon Alley looks decent."
And it shouldn't just look good — it should be decent. After all, this is the first acquaintance with the magical world for our future slaves. And a slave should see what he is paying for. And more gilding — slaves love shiny things.
"I will do it," said Mulciber without much enthusiasm.
"Now for your second initiative," I began. "Ordinary employees of the Ministry of Magic will have to flush themselves down a Muggle toilet to get to work."
I admit, I expected something meaningful. For example: we understood the structure of the protection of Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets and the charms that Corwin Gaunt later covered it with when he made the sewers at Hogwarts. But this protection only works if you put it on the water pipes. So wizards now have to flush themselves down the toilet to get to work.
"Here is the explanatory note," he handed me a single sheet of parchment. I ran my eyes over the text. So… Top secret. Date, seal, measures taken… an explanation of the need for the measures taken: "I want to look at the mud… Muggle-borns are like shit. This one goes into a Muggle toilet and says to his friend through the wall: 'Hi, let's go to work.' And the friend replies: 'I'm covered in shit.'"
But it makes sense — the big shots Apparate or use the fireplace, and the rank and file or those who have done something wrong go to work like that. It's a shame I have servants who do mean things even when it isn't economically feasible.
"Mulciber… any action should bring profit, and not just stroke the ego. You're my age. Behave more seriously. Let them go through the checkpoint like they used to. If you humiliate someone, humiliate them in such a way that they don't realize it. You need to get to know Rookwood better; he managed to wipe his feet on the Muggle Minister, and now their secret services are covering for us, but they don't even understand how we deceived them."
What deserves special laughter is the case when, a week later, Albus, having neutralized the guards, burst into Thatcher in his robes and with a magic wand at the ready, talking about a "conspiracy of Dark Wizards." She herself called the "Time Patrol!" And this Muggle didn't even have to erase her memory; they just said that this fanatic was several centuries out of time and wanted to unite England using the image of Merlin.
Mulciber chuckled contentedly. "If you want to have fun, sign up for the Foreign Legion. African criminals are trying to raise prices for materials. I think it's just a cartel conspiracy."
"I pass. I've fought enough near Azkaban."
"I also didn't like the design for the new sculpture in the Ministry. It shouldn't be installed. It's too gloomy. Wizards crushing Muggles with a throne… it's truly disgusting. Late Empire with elements of Gothic. The only thing stupider would be to put up a monument to me and write 'Attack here.' You still have to convince the people that the snake on the shoulder is a symbol of shedding skin and renewal. It would be better to leave the old sculpture. Or announce a competition for a sketch project among the clerks. Or contact Narcissa; she will show you a photo from her wedding with Lucius. More flowers and brighter."
"Yes, Lord. I will contact Lockhart — everyone will think that Dumbledore has captured the Ministry of Magic. But I have something to tell you," Mulciber began.
"Listen. Your student is behaving inappropriately for her status!"
They stunned me with the news.
"More specifically… it is unlikely that Lily managed to do anything funny, and I can always explain my actions."
"She heals Muggles! And she lets them go! Yes, Lily has finally gotten to blood magic. And it can do more than just kill."
"I examined several Muggle prisoners. She healed them and released them."
"Mulciber… this is my student, not Albus under the Polyjuice. Yes, she cured them. For her own purposes. But they are under very subtle mind control. And they will serve her plans — the latter, of course, is a lie. Let him train."
"I did not notice anything like that!" he said.
"Mulciber… You are one of the forty most powerful wizards in England, but where are you and where is she? The levels are too different. Moreover, blood magic is not quite your profile."
"She gave the land to the werewolves!" I was told. This is already a stone in my garden.
"For her service, I gave her land. But there were no volunteers to live under her rule. As well as no one to lead the werewolves. She received serfs, and I received soldiers. Everyone is happy."
"But she married several werewolves in a magical marriage!" I was told.
"If she herself had married a werewolf, she would have been a fool, and it would have been bestiality. But as it is… what difference does it make who she breeds? Aquarium fish? House-elves? Muggles? Werewolves? Let her issue the Order of Merlin of the First Degree to her broomstick or marry ants in a magical marriage — as long as she does not kill her own and follows orders, I am happy with her."
"Regarding the latter, sir. Sebastian was my friend, and I think she could have been involved in his death," I was told.
"I will tell you honestly, Mulciber — this is a very difficult question. For me, you are all my loyal servants, true pure-blooded wizards. But she had a conflict with Rosier. I saw two possible developments: either they do not gnaw at each other, and I do not let anyone get killed. Or they both decide to find out who is stronger. And then I do not interfere in the squabbles of servants.
"There were no requests for help from either Rosier or Elena. Rosier is dead. Wasteful. But he knew what he was getting into. He knew who he was dealing with. He fought her in a duel, and not quite fairly. And he lost. But he did not stop after that. My student does not suffer from forgiveness.
"Of course, you have the right to take revenge. But if you take on a burden that is too much for you, you will break. If you take on a burden that is within your capabilities, there will be no burdens that are too much for you. Don't worry, she didn't complete the task of killing Moody. Now she has a new task — to kill Dumbledore. Good idea? While Albus is alive, he won't bother Elena. And when Albus dies… If 'Elena' even slightly shows up there, no one will want to fight her.
"And I am ashamed to say that after that incident at Azkaban, where I killed several hundred wizards, I moved into the category of 'living legend.' Now everyone is sure that only Albus Dumbledore can hold out against Voldemort, and only thanks to the Elder Wand and only for fifteen seconds of the first round."
"I understand, Lord," Mulciber replied, bowing and leaving. Snape did not please me: Albus is alive, he has traces of wounds, but this did not affect his strength, and there are no injuries — only scars. Albus single-handedly carries out raids on my communications. So far, he has not been able to cut off all supplies.
Alison was wrong: Albus's luck is not forty million, but at least one hundred and forty million. Where he is guaranteed to die, he only receives wounds.
Then I listened to Barty.
"Repeat," I ordered.
"Master, she is already seventeen and taller than me. She graduates in a couple of months. Maybe it is possible?"
"Barty… it is possible! As soon as she finishes Hogwarts and leaves. But that is not what I asked you to repeat."
"I have an idea, Master! Remember that time when, at your will, I was forced to sleep with Muggle-borns? At first, I didn't like it. Then I got into it. But now I understand! They are not wizards! Life has had enough of them, and now I will add to this! I am sure Salazar Slytherin would have wanted exactly this!"
I couldn't keep a straight face. Either he got carried away by the process, or the ereghu made him crazy about sex…
"Your personal life is none of my business. Do what you want, as long as it does not affect your work."
"It does! I decided to start my own business!"
"What's the problem? Start one."
"Look, Master. There is a Pensieve. You can upload sex scenes there and watch them in detail. From any angle and with the effect of full presence!"
"Barty… what does this have to do with me?"
"But actors and premises — it is very expensive. I do not understand? Lord Voldemort is a metamorph porn star? Punishes Muggles without rest? Evil does not sleep with just anyone? I challenge Albus Dumbledore to a sex duel between Muggle-borns! Considering the metamorphosis and age — I must win. I wonder if Albus Dumbledore will die of shock after this?"
"I need your advice. I need a Death Eater who can quickly and reliably make false memories."
"Let's say I can. But I have a lot of important things to do. Who else can make forgeries quickly and efficiently?"
"Look for it yourself," I suggested. "But your best bet is to ask Snape: he's a half-blood and won't be shocked by this, he has some money, he should take it on, and he's pretty good at mind magic. Just do it after Dumbledore's death, and I didn't tell you that."
"Thank you, Lord. Yours is ten percent for inspiration and mediation."
Barty left. So this is what you are — Bon Dominant, Head of Hufflepuff. For some reason, I sat and remembered my first time with Bellatrix. What could you call it? "Dictators come to a bad end?" "Evil fell?" Damn Barty — he just left, and I need to get it out of my head and work.
Soon I was concentrating on what I had discovered in the Department of Mysteries. In the closed part, the wizards were engaged in rather specific matters, albeit theoretically. Firstly, knowledge should not die. Dangerous books and knowledge are confiscated, but at least one copy remains. Consequently, I became the owner of a unique comprehensive library on Dark Magic, including the ritual "Highest Limit."
There is also demonology, although not in full, not even close to the level of Grindelwald (he collected the knowledge of all countries and made the author's methods), and information on Horcruxes. All this would be very useful, but I am not going to follow in Grindelwald's footsteps, although it will still come in handy. Ineffective against Dumbledore.
Although something might come in handy, especially from demonology. The second point is the work on solving the Mysteries of Death. Quite interesting points, including those on Dark Magic, including methods of transferring consciousness into your descendant. Only this must be done during your lifetime. You "die" and find yourself a baby. Your own son. Or daughter… Although the probability of the ritual's success is not one hundred percent.
All these books were just in case someone wanted to do this, and they needed to be caught. I got a couple of trophy artifacts from Dumbledore that made a nuclear reaction impossible. And although I could not repeat them yet, it is quite possible to improve them with human sacrifice to create something like a long-term nuclear-free zone, while the artifact that feeds it is intact.
I think this would not be superfluous in the Ministry. I was especially interested in the methods of measuring ereghu and everything related to this. The solution to the Mystery of the Dementors was also contained — a golem from the body of a magician, an ereghu, and a fragment of a deathdalf (a tropical creature similar to a Dementor). Dementors had already been exterminated several times, but then new ones were made — it was very profitable: to guard prisoners for free.
A Dementor really does rip out a soul with a Kiss, but where it goes is unclear. Maybe it eats it, maybe a Dementor is like a portal for the soul somewhere. But there were not Dark things. A Time Turner. A huge one. Moving years into the past. But still, nothing can be changed — otherwise, you will die.
I was interested in the work on moving between parallel worlds. They existed, but… You don't know where you will end up: maybe in a star, maybe in space, maybe nowhere at all. I would rate this as charlatanism, only two hundred years ago one of the Unspeakables used this and returned. The problem is that two of them returned! The analysts came to the conclusion that "ours" was somewhere unknown, and these two were magicians from a parallel world, almost indistinguishable from ours.
This created certain problems: the other man was quite rich and famous and had a wife and children. And here there were two of them! But the situation quickly resolved itself: one of the guests committed suicide, and the second was declared the real and only one; the whole story was hushed up. Finally, I have a theoretical basis for magic, including Dark. I was amazed by the work of the Department of Mysteries at the junction of Light and Dark Magic.
I just didn't have time to ask Grindelwald about everything. The Unspeakables proved that Dark and Light Magic are the same thing, only of different signs. That is, if you perform a sacrifice, killing someone to get something — this is Dark Magic. But if you die yourself to protect someone — this is Light Magic without any ereghu.
I kept thinking about October 31st of the year before last. Tom made his soul very fragile. It was capable of splitting from another murder. In the Potters' house, Lily was waiting for him, ready to sacrifice herself. In the Longbottoms' house — a house-elf covering a child. An ordinary wizard could kill a child, spitting on his mother, but Tom… He drove himself into the wilds of soul magic, where it's not so much events and magical power that matter, but intentions… And this could have ended very badly for him, right up to annihilation with the creation of a spontaneous Horcrux.
The sixth Horcrux! This is one sixty-fourth of a soul — what to do with it?
But enough about the past, especially since it is probable and not mine. Of course, Light Magic is not only self-sacrifice. There are protective and stunning spells, protection destroyers, and so on. All of this is documented and is absolutely useless to me. As Grindelwald already told me, the very criteria of Light Magic do not allow one to effectively kill with it — it simply stops working.
Therefore, everyone who has brains uses general magic, which includes almost everything, including Albus's favorite Transfiguration. Dark Magic is for the most frostbitten. I was again thinking about how I could combine everything in myself, and I still didn't understand.
There is a lot of work to do because the reworking of "trophy Horcruxes" has finally moved from dead center. But there are other directions. How am I worse than Dumbledore? He made a prosthesis from his right hand. I moved home and took Ollivander's latest creation out of the safe — a wand made of Horace Slughorn with scales of the snake-Nagini and Nagini the phoenix.
No, this wand was no better than mine. Only it could be integrated into my new body. Voldemort was his own wand. And I would tell my people tales of the wonders of wandless magic.
I twirled this wand in my hands. It had two valuable qualities: it was the size of a pencil, so it would fit between the bones of my left hand, in the area of the radius. And also, thanks to the fact that my familiar's body filling was there, the base wizard himself was killed in the right way — I, the metamorph, would be able to dissolve it over time and absorb it into myself.
In a couple of years. But given my work rhythm and the fact that I have a Time-Turner — in a couple of months. Something needs to be done with the Time-Turner. A terrible invention; I need to become immortal faster, otherwise I'll die of old age before Dumbledore.
The implantation of the wand into my hand was routine. Everything was according to calculations: it is useless now. But as I dissolve in the body, I will be able to "cast magic without a wand" more easily. And even if my hand is cut off, nothing will change after the wand is absorbed. The implantation of an artifact into the body is not a trivial thing. But in my case, all the difficulties and risks were transferred to the manufacturing stage.
Thank you, Horace. It's time to rest. I need to go somewhere at night. I transfigured myself into suitable clothes when Bellatrix approached me.
"Are you leaving?" she asked.
I had already unraveled many secrets associated with Bellatrix. For example, at one time, I thought that she had a different physiology — the degree of nymphomania was too high, and with her previous husband, her sexuality was much less. It's simpler: I scanned Bellatrix and made sure that her lust is a consequence of wandless magic on herself in the process.
And on me. So Albus is right about the power of love. I didn't like her thoughts right now. Why, if I go somewhere secretly at night, do I immediately cheat?
"Bellatrix, do you want to do something we've never done before?" I suggested.
"And what then?" she said, unbuttoning her clothes.
"I doubt there's anything we haven't tried yet."
"Let's go on a date!" I suggested. "But I'll suggest the location myself."
"Yes, Lord," she said, getting dressed. "About the rules: don't kill anyone, don't torture anyone, don't stand out, behave like everyone else. We'll go under a false guise. And this will be… an unusual date. I want to test how the denigration of Dumbledore is going among the masses. We're going to the first wizarding comedy club!"
Soon we were ready. Of course, it's unlikely that Albus would be exactly where I was, but I disguised myself by taking the form of a huge fat man. Why? Very simple: inside the folds of skin that represent my belly, I hid Nagini so she could carry me away if necessary.
Bellatrix is an obedient girl. But if people who are not even purebloods start pestering her, they will be hurt. So, she must not look very good.
Soon, she turned into a middle-aged woman of rather dull appearance. Our images were complemented by budget robes. Bellatrix's skepticism was enormous. It seems to me that even if I slept with Rodolphus in front of her now, she would treat it with more understanding. But — it must be done.