The Headmaster's office at Hogwarts was a spacious, circular room lined with tall windows and crowded with portraits of former headmasters. The largest portrait, hanging behind the desk, always depicted the previous headmaster; when a new one took office, the predecessor's portrait shrank and was moved elsewhere.
During Albus Dumbledore's tenure, the office was cluttered with tables on twisted legs, each supporting delicate silver instruments — some crackling, some clinking, others puffing out little clouds of smoke. Magical tomes and manuscripts filled the shelves, forming Dumbledore's personal library, and in one corner sat a Pensieve and a phoenix named Fawkes.
Naturally, every new master of the office arranged it to their own taste. The current master, dressed in midnight-blue pajamas, was once again tormented by insomnia. He'd asked a house-elf for strong tea laced with a stimulant potion. The cause of his sleeplessness: one of his warning charms had just triggered.
It wasn't the first time one of the exchange students had vanished from the Hogwarts map. Touching his desk with the Elder Wand — that legendary artifact he'd won from Grindelwald — he conjured a cross-sectional diagram of the castle. It opened like a dollhouse, showing little figures that looked just like the real people. He was a master of Transfiguration, after all.
He eyed the frozen figurine labeled "V. Marlow" on the second floor, stroking his beard thoughtfully. The other three exchange students — Todor Krasnov, Antonin Dolohov, and Natalia Ermolova — were easy to read. All future soldiers for his former student, Riddle, and all following the script. Maybe the girl could be turned, but... unlikely. Still, it was worth keeping in mind.
Albus had loved chess since childhood, and that love had become a way of life. His old mentor, Nicolas Flamel, had taught him to think years ahead. Few knew Dumbledore had a considerable supply of Elixir of Life and youth potions. He'd use them in time, and then would have to drink them daily, but for now it wasn't necessary — beneath his beard and voluminous robes was still a strong body, and behind those half-moon spectacles — which he wore to better read surface thoughts, distracting his conversation partners with their glint — was a mind sharper than ever.
The groaning, creaking, ringing, and steam-puffing devices served the same purpose. Besides alerting him, they distracted visitors and kept their attention away from him.
But back to the exchange students. The trio were predictable, nothing special. But Arthur Marlow — he was a dark horse. Why he'd come was easy enough to guess: the adoption of a veela by a former Black, and her engagement to that same Black's student, had caused quite a stir. It didn't take a genius to see the boy had been sent to establish contact with the Blacks.
Ah, Phineas — the master artificer up his sleeve could have been a worthy ally, but he'd been exiled before Albus took power. Still, his student was hardly less impressive, especially since he kept vanishing from the Hogwarts map.
Who are you, Arthur Marlow? A pawn, a queen, or a player with his own game? Too young for the latter, too clever for the former — he was building relationships with all the houses, not just the ones with his targets. Still, it was too early to judge. And Dumbledore would wait. Let the young hurry — the old have patience and wisdom.
***
Narcissa Malfoy stared at the circlet and crystal on her bed as if they were a venomous snake. She had to admit, Marlow was charming and polite. Not a single word or gesture had disgusted her or given her reason to challenge him, as Aunt Walburga had requested. In fact, he inspired a strange sympathy, and he was handsome, too — that couldn't be denied.
But one thing ruined everything: he was a half-blood. Worse, a half-blood of a magical creature and an unknown wizard — practically a bastard. Even if he were the richest half-blood in the world, her parents and the head of house would never let her marry him.
If she was honest, she didn't want to marry anyone. Especially not the cold, affected Lucius, who saw her only as a benefit for his lineage and the future mother of his heir. She envied her sister Andromeda, with whom she'd had to break ties, because Andromeda had done what she wanted, not what she was told.
Narcissa wanted to be a healer. That had been her dream since childhood, ever since she'd watched, spellbound, as a healer mended her broken leg. But in a dark family, no one would understand such a wish — least of all Lucius. An aristocrat healing Muggle-borns? Unthinkable.
She did believe purebloods were superior, but what was wrong with helping others? Was it wrong to feed and heal a sick dog, for example? That's why she'd never taken Gaunt's mark, unlike her future husband and her proud sister.
She believed that if purebloods were better, they didn't need special privileges. They should prove their superiority through deeds, not words. But most purebloods didn't — they were content to rest on their ancestors' laurels. This surprised her, since she'd been raised with the motto: "Don't ask what your family can do for you, ask what you can do for it."
That was why the Blacks had produced so many powerful battle mages, necromancers, demonologists, and dark artificers. That was why they'd stayed at the top of the Sacred Twenty-Eight for centuries. And it was these thoughts that made her angry — and made her put on the circlet, which Professors Slughorn and Flitwick had checked and declared safe.
"Hello, mistress. How may I help you?" asked a voice so like her own that Narcissa jumped.
***
Back in my room, I retreated to Availon and collapsed into bed, hugging a squeaking Dorothea like a pillow. I was exhausted — mentally, physically, magically. At least my half-asleep mind remembered to drink the last of my recovery potions.
I woke up feeling almost refreshed, and immediately heard a pitiful voice from under my arm.
"Let me go, I need to pee."
"Oh, Dorothea, sorry." I let her go, and she dashed for the exit. "Hal, how long was I out?"
"Twelve hours. Breakfast is about to start. And I have good news for you."
"Go on, surprise me," I said, cleaning my teeth with a charm and banishing the taste of dead cat from my mouth.
"Narcissa Black put on the magocogitator. Her matrix has already come to me, and I've deciphered it."
"You're quick. What about the calculations for my new form?"
"After the merger, I became a mid-level mind spirit — and not a weak one. I think forty times faster now," he replied, and I whistled.
"Not bad. Didn't lose much, did you?"
"On the contrary, I gained. With full consciousness, it's much easier for me, and now I can learn on my own."
"I'm happy for you," I said, though I felt a twinge of unease. He was developing fast. Or maybe too slowly, considering centuries in accelerated time?
"As for the calculations — I've finished, but I don't recommend you use it."
"That bad?" I asked.
"No, on the contrary. You'll be about fifteen percent faster and stronger, plus you'll be able to secrete poison from under your nails at will. It's non-magical, but thanks to mixing acromantula and basilisk venom, it'll knock out even a strong wizard. You'll also have a much more efficient digestive system, practically waste-free. And with body temperature control, you'll live much longer. The basilisk's scales, combined with dragon scales, will give you protection harder than steel. And you'll be practically immune to non-magical poisons.
"The problem is, you're combining basilisk, acromantula, werewolf, dragon, nymph, and veela blood in your body. I can't predict the consequences. I recommend you experiment with an improved battle form first." The "incubus" form appeared before me, now covered in small green scales. I replaced the old one, flexed, and tested it.
"Not bad, not bad," I said. The scales didn't restrict movement and felt like normal skin.
"I have something else for you..." Hal said, his tone mysterious.
***
I went to the Great Hall, after feeding Dorothea, who was pouting at me. This time I sat at the Gryffindor table, where, for some reason, I wasn't exactly welcomed.
"Did I spit in your soup or something?" I asked, looking around at the glares. "Why the long faces?"
"You sat with the snakes, then the ravens, then the badgers, and only now with us. Are we the worst?" grumbled a big-eared brunette from fourth year.
"Umm, what's your name?" I asked, taking a bite of pancake.
"Frank Longbottom," he replied.
"Frank, buddy, let me ask you — if I called you a griff, would you like it?"
"No."
"Then why insult the others? I've sat at three different house tables," I said, feeding mana into my voice so everyone could hear, "and not one — not one — house said anything bad about me sitting elsewhere. Not one insulted the noble house of Godric. Yes, there was talk about certain people, but not about the whole house."
"If we're so bad, then get out. Look who's lecturing us!" Sirius Black shouted. Well, there went any chance of connecting with him. I'd have to bet on Regulus and Narcissa.
"Does everyone think so?" I asked, and the house stayed silent, glaring. Dumbledore had done a good job brainwashing them. All it took was sitting at Slytherin's table first, and I was the enemy forever.
I glanced at the teachers' table — they weren't there yet.
"Well then. Thank you for your hospitality. I'll go elsewhere. I deeply appreciate the law of hospitality of Godric's house, who once killed for violating it."
"Did you enjoy our red-and-gold house, Mr. Marlow?" Lucius called as I sat down at Slytherin. "And after this they call us snakes."
"I appreciated the work of dividing two houses — and two classes of society," I replied, nodding to him. "Good morning, Miss Black, Mr. Malfoy."
"What do you mean?" Narcissa asked, hiding the circlet under a headband. Clever. "This conflict's been around since our fathers' and grandfathers' time."
"If you read the history taught here by a ghostly misunderstanding, you'd know the houses were once divided by occupation. Gryffindor: battle and dark magic. Hufflepuff: herbology and potions. Slytherin: healing, biomagic, chimerology. Ravenclaw: artificing and ritual magic. Warriors, farmers, healers, craftsmen — just like medieval guilds.
"Over time, with the banning of entire branches of magic," I noticed Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs listening, "the houses lost their meaning. If the curriculum's the same everywhere, what's the point? So why did Slytherin become associated with dark magic, aristocracy, and blood purity? Who benefits from dividing two houses into Muggle-borns and aristocrats, instead of teaching them together and letting them learn from each other?"
"How is it at Beauxbatons?" Lucius asked.
"We divide by gender and age. Look — students usually sit by age and gender anyway. And it keeps them focused on studies, not romance." Some couples blushed.
Well, I'd planted seeds of doubt. Whether they'd sprout or rot, time would tell. Maybe one generation would stop looking for enemies in each other and see the bigger picture. But I doubted one conversation would undo years of enmity and misunderstanding. Purebloods didn't understand Muggle-borns, and vice versa. Misunderstanding breeds aggression.
"I'd like to talk with you about family matters, if you don't mind?" Narcissa caught me as I was leaving.
"Of course," I smiled. "Your common room?"
"Actually, your room would be better. You've shown yourself a true gentleman."
"Thank you for the honor." I led her to my room, making small talk.
"So, what did you want to discuss, Miss Black?" I asked.
"Your gift is too expensive. I can't accept it," she said, lips pursed. "It's at the level of a family artifact."
"I appreciate your honesty, but first, I can make such artifacts by the dozen. Second, I warned you it binds to the owner after one use."
"I can pay," she insisted, and I respected her for it. That's the difference between a true aristocrat and a merchant. A merchant would rejoice at such a windfall, but Narcissa wanted to repay the debt.
"No, your family's connection is enough for me."
"They refused. They said... that someone of your origin..."
"Is unworthy of their attention? I expected that. The main thing is you tried. And... may I be honest with you?" I decided to go all in. Either it would work, or I'd have to use more radical methods — Regulus in stasis, and if the whole Black family died, I'd have the younger heir. But I didn't want it to come to that.
"Depends on what," she said, tense.
"Do you know why I came to England?"
"To join our family?" she smirked, certain of it.
"No, I don't care about your family." She was so surprised her mask slipped. "My teacher, Phineas Black, did more for me than most fathers do. I promised him I'd try to save the Black family from the abyss it's heading for."
"What abyss? And how can one person save a whole family? Aren't you overestimating yourself?"
"My task isn't to save everyone. Just to make sure the family continues. As for the abyss... What do you know about Mr. Gaunt?"
"So you're Dumbledore's man?" she guessed.
"I'm a man of common sense. I don't follow a man with a soul torn to pieces, who brands his followers like slaves," I said, suppressing a shudder at the memory of his astral body.
"You mean the Dark Mark? It's a sign of closeness and distinction, and a means of communication. Nothing more."
"You don't have one, I see," I said, surprising her. "That's why I'm talking to you. The mark can cause pain, serve as a beacon for Apparition, and act as a mana pump. Doesn't sound like a sign of distinction, does it?"
"Those are just words. Where's the proof?" she scoffed.
"Look at this," I showed her an illusion from the memory of one of the Death Eaters, covering the girl's face to protect her.
"McNair, Rosier, Carrow, Avery. What does this fake have to do with anything?"
"Don't be sarcastic. I can give you the memories, and you can check them in any Pensieve. I doubt the Blacks don't have one. But the most interesting part isn't this. This is just so you won't feel sorry for these... unpleasant people." Then I showed her records of experiments on the Dark Mark and their results.
"This is... interesting data. I'll pass it on to the family. We'll check everything you said," she said, gathering herself to leave.
"Hal, knock out—" Everything froze. Even the dust hung in the air.
***
"Yeah, it felt like I was really there," I said, taking off the circlet and sighing. "How accurate is your simulation?"
"The more information, the better. It's best to have matrices of all the students, but I know that's impossible. So the psychological portraits are only approximate, based on observation records, which are fragmentary and incomplete due to the castle's state."
"Still, not bad. Could you create uncontrolled simulation matrices, so they could be played without magocogitators?"
"You want to make something like films? It's possible. You can create a matrix and copy it into memory crystals."
"What about the risk of other spirits awakening, or others creating matrices?"
"That takes hundreds of years, or decades of active development. Only a mid-level spirit with local acceleration can create a simulation in minutes. Lower-level spirits would need years of real time." Once again, I was amazed at Phineas's genius. To create such a masterpiece by studying time-turners and stasis charms. Sumerian magic just gave him the push.
"Well, good. I'll go check your simulation." I left the room, and everything was different. Narcissa came openly with the circlet on her head. The Gryffindors' reaction was much less hostile, and when I joked and acted friendly, they accepted me like family. Some still pouted — Lily, Potter, Black — but no one started anything.
Once again, it showed that superficial opinion is often worse than none at all. But Hal had predicted Narcissa would catch me.
"I wanted to let you know the head of our family agreed to meet you this Saturday. I'll send a Portkey later. But don't think it's just because of your gift — he's also interested in seeing the student of an exiled family member. He also asked me to say that many regret Phineas was exiled, but nothing can be done now." Apparently Orion really was ready to make contact. Or it could be a trap.
"Thank you, Miss Black. My gift really suits you," I said. The circlet, with its simplicity, really emphasized the oval of her face and her hairstyle.
"Thank you," she nodded and went to class. And again, I wasn't allowed to leave. This time it was a displeased Lucius, who put his white-gloved hand on my shoulder.
"I'd ask you not to give gifts to other people's fiancées in the future," he said coldly, with a hint of threat, as if squeezing my shoulder would intimidate me.
"And I'd ask," I said, grabbing his hand and twisting it until he grimaced, "that you not touch me again. I'm nervous, and my hand is heavy."
"Is that a threat?" he growled, rubbing his fingers.
"It's a statement of fact. I give what I want to whom I want. If you doubt your fiancée's faithfulness, you doubt yourself. Have a pleasant day." I left him there, mood soured.
Maybe I should go copy the medallion for freeing house-elves? That's what I'll do. I sent four doppelgangers to the Room of Requirement, sealed the secret room with Transfiguration, and got to work. No classes for me today.
***
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Thank you for the help with the power stones!!!