Immaterium. Beyond time and space.
"You knew!" Tersamaris hissed, writhing his snake-like body into furious coils. "You knew it would happen this way all along!"
The action took place on an island of pseudo-matter floating in the middle of the Ocean of Souls. The island was a strange jumble of stone, flesh and God knows what else, but at its core it was more like a fragment of the real world that had appeared here by some strange twist of the warp.
"The servants of the Fickle One cannot be trusted, I have said so from the beginning," Kagrannar hissed angrily, now taking the form of a hunched figure in stinking rags, a hood, skinny limbs, and a bulging, rotting belly. As always, the demon's skin was covered in rotting sores.
"I will tear you apart!!" roared Arak'cha, baring his huge canine mouth and waving his four enormous arms, which held an axe, a cleaver, a mace, and a chain with spiked balls, respectively. His body still had sheets of crude iron implanted here and there, but on his wrists there were bronze bracers with the symbols of Khorne, and on his hips - something like a chainmail skirt with skulls woven into it. "Bastard! Traitor!!" he sprayed foam from his fangs.
Tal-Tagazon hovered calmly in front of them in a lotus pose. Or, as he had become accustomed to calling himself, Smarty. He, too, had changed almost nothing in his appearance since they had been thrown into the borders of this strange little world: the body of an agile primate with skin that shimmered in all colors, covered in crystalline spikes. He considered it necessary to add only a cape of rainbow feathers - he had a slight fetish for feathers at one time. Smarty's head was a strange glowing mass, similar to a ball of light - like a small star, changing color depending on the mood and desires of the demon.
The trio of his unwitting comrades were furious on the contrary, accusing him of all sins, but not yet daring to attack - they had found themselves in too precarious a position. But then a pause appeared in their stream of consciousness, which Tal-Tagazon was quick to take advantage of:
"Are you finished?" his voice whispered, interrupting the next rebuke of his interlocutors, who were about to burst forth. "And now, unless you wish to continue this undoubtedly fascinating one-sided discussion, listen to me!"
The three demons looked at each other, but did not object - after all, they had to listen to the "accused". The "accused" with an elusive movement rose to his feet, and in his hand a staff sparkling with magic with an image of an eye in flames on the end materialized.
"First," the Tzeentch demon "smirked," look at yourselves and each other. Look carefully! What do you see?"
"What are you getting at, spawn of the Unfaithful?" the Nurglite hissed, baring his lipless mouth with large yellow teeth.
- To the point, - snorted the Tzeentchite, - that during all the time that I, as you put it, "deceived" you, you became much stronger and more stable. You became powerful, stabilized your existence. A very… beneficial "deception," don't you think?
His three rivals looked at each other again, but this time with much greater interest and much more deeply in thought.
All four demons, since they had found a way into Harry Potter's mind, had indeed acquired much clearer images. They did not have to exert effort to remain in a stable form, constantly risking losing it and becoming one of the trillions of ordinary formless Neverborn. They were rapidly approaching the level of their former powers - a level not lower than the Heralds of the Chaos Gods.
But nevertheless...
"Are you trying to convince us that it's all your fault?" Tersamaris scornfully twisted his perfect face, tucking a golden lock of hair behind the twisted platinum horn on his forehead. "We fed on the power of Harry's soul, he fed us his desires, aspirations and sacrifices - of course we got better! And everything would have continued to be fine if you hadn't decided to play your dirty games!"
"I'll tear you apart, I'll tear you apart!!!" Arak'cha roared, his eyes bloodshot, taking a step forward. But Tal-Tagazon spoke again:
"Now try to analyze what happened using your mind, and not your other components," the Tzeentch daemon hissed. "In mortal terms: think with your head, and not your ass for once! My 'dirty games' saved you, kept you from making a mistake. A mistake that would be fatal for all of you!"
- You have exposed the soul of our host to the winds of the Immaterium. To Chaos Undivided! - Kagrannar frowned, gurgling his terrible ulcers. - Why? Everything was fine as it was. He listened to us, followed our advice, and after some time he could make the final choice...
- There! - Tal-Tagazon raised his clawed finger importantly. - A choice. Four roads - four options. One will win, three will lose. It does not happen that individual representatives of the Four simultaneously advise an inexperienced soul and that soul does not ultimately make a choice in favor of one of the Great Powers.
- What are you getting at, you fucking slippery bastard?!! - Arak'cha growled in rage. Although, considering that he finally growled something more meaningful than "I'll tear you apart and kill you", his rage actually began to subside. - No matter how insignificant the sorcerers of fucking Tzeentch were, you never gave up the fight for souls! You could have entered the fight for Harry Potter and had a chance to win - but instead you deprived all of us of the opportunity to win!! Why??!!
- Speaking of the head and ass... - Tal-Tagazon tiredly rubbed... well, apparently his temple. - Okay, I'll explain it on my fingers! - he snorted. - I calculated a huge number of probabilities and came to a disappointing conclusion for all of us. Roughly speaking, - he paused for a moment. - Roughly speaking, no matter how hard each of us tries, no matter how strong we become, we have no chance in this world alone.
"Nonsense," Kagrannar muttered, but it was clear that he, like the Khorne and the Slaanesh, was already doubting.
"Not at all," the Tzeentchite spread his hands. "A closed world, a single open soul, a system of magic tied to the material world—the conditions are rather harsh. If there were at least a few dozen open souls, we could simply divide them among ourselves to begin with. But one soul, as our dear Sweet Tooth said at the very beginning," a gesture towards the snorting Tersamaris, "cannot be divided into four. That means we need to make it Indivisible."
"It hasn't become any clearer," the Slaaneshi raised a thin eyebrow.
- In order to spread the influence of Chaos to a greater number of souls, but at the same time leave it unnoticed for as long as possible, we need variety! - the Smart Guy tried to explain very simply. - If one of us had gained the upper hand in Harry's mind, the boy would have gone on a rampage along the path of the winner. And without having time to gather followers or to really get going, he would eventually have fallen into the hands of the local wizards - and they would have destroyed the dangerous "dark wizard". But the four of us, - Tal-Tagazon folded his fingers into a house, - we will carefully spread the influence of Chaos to a greater number of immature minds, gather comrades, and then an army. There are enough souls for everyone - including those dedicated to each of us personally. But for this it was necessary to guarantee the balance of power.
- And the warp itself will act as a guarantor, - Sweet Tooth drawled with a kind of disbelievingly delighted expression on his well-groomed face. - Harry will go to no one, but at the same time to everyone. And will also become an investment in the future. That's right...
"Tzeentchian," Arak'cha spat in disgust, lowering his weapon nonetheless. Beside him, Kagrannar shook his head sullenly, also dissatisfied with such a situation. But they did not pursue the topic further: Tal-Tagazon's arguments were sufficiently weighty.
"Well, if we're done with our... misunderstanding, I suggest we get back to really important matters. For example," a vague gesture with his hands, "our mutual friend Harry James Potter..."
Hogwarts, Hospital Wing. June 1992.
Two figures stood in the far corner of the school's Hospital Wing, talking quietly to each other.
"He killed a grown wizard with one touch," hissed Potions Professor Severus Snape like a vicious snake. "An experienced, grown wizard, and one possessed by the spirit of the Dark Lord! You cannot ignore that, Albus!"
"Severus," Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore replied, frowning at Harry Potter lying unconscious on the couch. "Has it ever occurred to you that Quirinus was killed precisely because he was possessed? We found out that he was the one who had been killing unicorns and drinking their blood all this time — because his body was falling apart, unable to withstand the presence of a second soul. And the interaction with the protection that Lily Potter had cast only accelerated this process dramatically. That's all."
- And his sleepy delirium? - the Potions Master did not give up. - The boy clearly has some problems with his head! Who is this "Smart Guy", "Bully" and other strange characters he talks to in his sleep? Albus, I swore to protect the boy - but how can I do that if you are mysteriously silent, and all sorts of devilry is happening around Potter!
"Severus," Dumbledore said sternly to Snape. "We've already discussed this. As soon as I figure out what Lily did to her son, I'll be the first to inform you! Right now, we have a bigger problem than Potter's maternal protection."
"The Dark Lord," Snape's face immediately paled. "He's back."
"Exactly," Albus nodded grimly. "Not in the flesh yet, but he's back! And it's only a matter of time before he tries to regain his former position."
- But how did he do it? He was destroyed that night! - Severus rubbed his forehead. And then he turned to the headmaster sullenly: - Or maybe with that terrible power that Lily gave Potter?
"I can't be completely sure, but I doubt it," Dumbledore shook his grey-haired head. "This power leaves no visible traces, and Harry's room that night was simply saturated with Darkness! The Darkness that is quite familiar to us, without any mysterious impurities."
"So the Lord just killed himself?" Snape bowed his head.
"Most likely," Albus nodded. "I have one extremely interesting theory on this matter. Which, by the way, also explains Voldemort's immortality."
"And you, of course, will share it with me?" the potion maker raised an eyebrow.
"Not here," the director shook his head. "And not now. But I promise – as soon as I'm completely sure, you'll know all the details."
Severus could only grind his teeth in irritation. He knew the Headmaster's way of speaking in the style of "not enough information, so nothing to say" - meaning that there was no point in pursuing the topic further. As soon as Dumbledore himself decided to share his idea - only then could Snape expect answers. To pry anything out earlier was an undertaking doomed to failure.
"The Philosopher's Stone is gone," Severus said neutrally, changing the subject. "It just… dissolved in the Mirror of Erised. I don't know what kind of magic you did with those artifacts, but Nicholas Flammel will definitely be unhappy!"
"I haven't heard from Nicholas for a week," Albus said grimly. "He used to write at least once every two days, so I could track his whereabouts. So I suspect the worst."
"They caught up with him?" Snape asked calmly. "The Russians?"
"I doubt it," Albus shook his head. "The Soviet… I mean, forgive me, Russian Ministry has enough problems of its own right now without tracking down an old wizard who once worked for the Nazis. You know that the Soviet Union collapsed in the Muggle world, right?" the director looked questioningly at Snape.
"Albus, I'm not a dense savage or a pure-blooded idiot who sits in the manor all the time," the Potions Master said through gritted teeth. "And that's why I'm aware of such high-profile events. But if it's not the Russians, then who?"
"Nicholas has many ill-wishers," Dumbledore sighed wearily. "It would be strange if a seven-hundred-year-old wizard didn't have any. And after Gellert forced him to work for him during the War..."
There was a heavy pause - and it was clear what the director was talking about.
Nicolas Flammel's participation in the war on the side of Gellert Grindelwald* was not advertised in the general press, but everyone who should have known, knew. And many wizards also had a huge grudge against him!
He did not dare to appear in his native France, or in Germany or England either, and so he spent the last decades since the end of the war hiding in South America, hoping that one day the memory of his crimes would be erased.
But, in addition to those who simply forbade him entry, there were also those who were purposefully tracking down the ancient alchemist. The Soviet Department of Mysteries and Israeli wizards - to capture and execute him as a war criminal. The Nazi remnants - also with the goal of capture, but this time in order to use Flammel's knowledge in their dirty deeds.
And also, they all wanted to get their hands on the Philosopher's Stone!
It was precisely because of the increased attention to him in recent years that Nicholas turned to his old friend Dumbledore, with whom he had fallen out in the thirties - when Flammel followed Grindelwald, ignoring Albus's requests and warnings. After all, the current headmaster of Hogwarts has always been famous for being ready to give anyone a second chance.
But the Philosopher's Stone had been destroyed, and there had been no news from Nicholas for a long time. The latter could only mean one thing: if not one, then others had gotten to the alchemist. Dumbledore could only hope that it was the Russians or the Israelis - they would at least simply finish off Flammel. But if these really were Grindelwald's remnants...
In any case, Nicholas would not survive long without his artifact. As cynical as it may sound, Albus was more than happy with this fact. What was an old friendship compared to the security of Europe, if not the entire world? Especially since Nicholas was entirely to blame for his problems.
"Well, since the issue with the stone has been resolved, there's no point in leaving a security zone on the third floor," Snape shrugged. "Especially since even two first-years were able to overcome it!"
"I detect irritation in your voice, Severus?" the Headmaster smirked, looking slyly at the Potions Master over his half-moon glasses. "Harry Potter turned out to be not such a bloated mediocrity as you want him to be?"
"He was lucky," Severus replied dryly. To add to his irritation was the fact that the bloody boy he had sworn to protect had gotten himself into a deadly adventure, and Snape hadn't noticed! "Besides, he had that Granger girl with him. She's certainly smarter than Potter. And Quirrell had weakened the spells considerably on the obstacle course…"
Albus just shook his head silently, not arguing with Snape's oozing irritation. Who was trying to convince himself by any means necessary that Potter was just a smug empty shell, who had only managed to pass the tests in the Forbidden Corridor due to incredible luck and Lily's mystical protection. The Headmaster could only hope that over time Severus would calm down and be able to outgrow his hatred for James Potter.
But it was time to stop talking - Harry Potter, who was lying on the couch nearby, moved and opened his eyes.
Harry Potter again.
Whispers and screams, touches and blows, viscous otherworldly light and bright, burning darkness - it was impossible to describe what Harry experienced, even if he tried.
His essence, what mortals called his "soul," hung in the cocoon of his own mental defenses in the middle of the ocean of the raging warp. The ghostly shield—the one that the boy had been building in his mind under the guidance of the Smart Guy—was cracking and sparking under the onslaught of Chaos that was beating against the walls of this dam, trying to seep in and absorb Harry Potter. To absorb, to tear apart, to subdue, to overcome and—to penetrate through it into the material world in an endless stream!
But, strangely enough, this shield held. For which the boy once again thanked his spirit-mentor - if it were not for this protection, the streams of the Immaterium would have washed it away long ago, dissolving and leaving no trace of what, in fact, was called "Harry James Potter".
But the strangest thing was that Harry continued to hear, filter and understand the cacophony of voices that abounded in the warp!
If the four demons that had settled in his head more than two years ago had set four main directions, now there were dozens and hundreds of these directions! Any, even the most incredible and strange fantasy, was embodied in reality in this place. What had previously been impossible and unnatural became commonplace here.
It was akin to the feelings he had experienced when his spirit advisors had shown him their Paths! The power of the Gods, allowing him to ignore the boundaries and prohibitions that had been imposed on him earlier. The rules and norms of morality that had shackled the boy, one after another, became something stupid and unimportant in the radiance of the Four Dark Principles!
And now he seemed to have thrown off the shackles that had previously limited him. After all, the Four Roads are, as it turned out, damned few! Accepting them, dividing your capabilities and aspirations into these four channels without the ability to combine them - aren't these limitations, aren't these frames?
Why should he embrace the power of Khorne and turn away from the magic he despises? Or, enjoying all the possible and impossible sensations that Slaanesh grants, why should he reject the safety and immortality of Grandfather Nurgle? And more, more such examples!
He wanted it all together, as a whole, in a single, indivisible impulse! He was ready to honor the Great Four, to make sacrifices to them and to glorify their names - but not to single out any of them. To use the power of all the Gods, but not to serve any of them!...
Echoes of these thoughts and desires were still flickering in Harry's head when he opened his eyes with a shuddering breath in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. For a few seconds he tried to comprehend where he was and what was happening. And then he sat up with a jerk.
He was alive! Alive and seemingly sane - although he had walked on the very edge of madness. And his four companions...
Exactly! His friends!
"Um... Guys?" Harry thought cautiously, as if afraid to scare away his luck. And only after a few agonizing seconds, when he began to assume the worst, did they answer him:
"Boo! Are you scared?" Sweet Tooth's voice rang out like a silver bell.
"Ugh!" the boy breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought you died in that storm!"
"We are strong enough that the storms of the warp cannot disperse us so easily ," the Smart One joined in the conversation. "I see you missed us."
"Of course!" Harry smiled, and then noticed that someone was approaching his bed.
- Professor Dumbledore? - Potter was almost genuinely surprised, looking at the old headmaster who had come up to his bed. - There!... Professor Quirrell! He tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone! And Voldemort was there! - Harry blurted out. He didn't know what Dumbledore had seen, but if Potter hadn't been arrested yet, it meant his abilities hadn't been discovered. Which was encouraging.
"I know, Harry," the headmaster smiled softly at him. "Unfortunately, greed and thirst for power sometimes blind even the purest souls," he sighed sadly. "And the Dark Lord has always been able to find the key to these desires in people. Poor Quirinus was no exception."
"So he?..." Harry tried to pretend he didn't understand.
- He died. Destroyed by the protection that Lily Potter, your mother, placed on you, - the director shook his head sadly.
Harry's heart skipped a beat. Could Professor Dumbledore really know?!
No. If he knew everything, he wouldn't start talking.
"Your mother loved you very much, Harry," the Headmaster said again. "And the power of her love - the very feeling that Voldemort so underestimates - can overcome any other force. Quirinus tried to harm you - and he paid for it. His hatred could not overcome the protection that a mother's love provides..."
"The Power of Love?" the Sweet Tooth chuckled. "I like that name! Let's call our abilities that!"
The others did not answer, but mockery emanated from all four spirits in Harry's soul.
Although... not only from the four spirits. The fifth subtenant was also dripping with sarcasm at the director's words. And this time his feelings were much more tangible than before.
After Dumbledore left, leaving the boy to rest, Harry lay for a long time, thinking about both the headmaster's words and the situation as a whole.
"It's good that he doesn't know that the Philosopher's Stone hasn't been destroyed," Smart Guy chuckled at one point.
"Not destroyed?!" Potter was surprised, falling out of his thoughts.
"Of course not!" Sweet Tooth chuckled. "Do you really think that our Smart Guy would pass by such a thing and not pocket it? Not with his Intelligent Hamster Syndrome!"
"I am glad that you appreciate my modest abilities ," the Tzeentchite chuckled in response, choosing to ignore the phrase about the hamster. "However, it turned out that this thing is not quite what is stated in its official characteristics."
"So you can't brew the elixir of life with it?" Sweet Tooth asked, slightly disappointed.
"No ," replied the Smart One. "Because this stone is a direct analogue of the Eldar soul stones!"
"Poor Flamel's soul was simply and unpretentiously sacrificed to the mirror demon ," muttered Kindly. "And yet he gave the stone to Dumbledore for safekeeping precisely with the expectation that the artifact would be safe in his hands. What a bitter irony..."
"This once again confirms that even such powerful and knowledgeable wizards as Dumbledore do not know about the warp and demons!" concluded Smarty. "If the headmaster knew what the Mirror of Erised was, he would never have trusted him with such an important thing as the stone!"
"By the way, what's up with that demon?" asked Sweet Tooth. "Harry caused such an explosion in the warp that his cage should have at least weakened."
"It's unlikely that the mirror was destroyed. Then its occupant would have been freed and would have caused a localized Immaterium breach in Hogwarts!" boomed Dobryak.
"The mirror itself is like a gate to the warp ," Smarty said thoughtfully. "We need to find this thing in any case and at least talk a little with its inhabitant - he probably knows a lot about the warp around us and the local magic. And also about the past of this world!"
With such thoughts buzzing soothingly in his head, Harry fell asleep. Despite much that the boy had experienced over the past two years, and the fact that he had slept for another day before that, Potter fell asleep almost instantly.
The Hogwarts Express was picking up speed, carrying its long body towards London. Harry Potter was sitting in the compartment, thoughtfully combing through Granger's tousled hair, who habitually used the boy as a kind of chair, where his chest was the back and his knees were the armrests. And, as usual, she was reading another book - this time on transfiguration.
Harry was in a peaceful mood. A dreamy smile played on his lips, his eyes slightly narrowed, and his fingers slid through Hermione's elastic curls on their own. A noise splashed in his ears, like the surf - the warp was whispering something to its chosen one, allowing him to sway on its waves, as if on the surface of a warm ocean. Now that Harry had established a constant connection with the Immaterium, unburdened by the mediation of the four spirits, this was his usual state. He knew that at any moment he could plunge into the warp, draw strength from it, create whatever he wanted! And the Great Ether would respond, extend a hand-claw-tentacle of help. And it would not distract and interfere, as it did at that moment when Harry plunged into it for the first time!
Apart from Potter and Granger, there was no one else in the compartment. Ron was travelling with his brothers: Percy had insisted on it, insisting that if his mother or father found out who their youngest had been hanging out with all year, they would have a heart attack! Malfoy was travelling with the Slytherins – he too had yet to shock his father with his strange choice of friends. Although, if everything Harry knew about Lucius Malfoy was true, he already knew. But then why hadn't he written anything during the year?
Harry and Hermione didn't have any other friends.
The year ended like all the previous ones: with Slytherin winning on points. This happened, however, only because the night raid against McLaggen deprived Gryffindor of a lot of points!
How it happened that all four houses took part in the raid, but only the Red Banner one suffered such a big drop in grades, was explained quite simply: only Draco and his retinue took part from Slytherin, and they managed to escape from the crime scene just in time. In general, quite in the spirit of the Snake House!
So Gryffindor was not saved even by their phenomenal performance on the Quidditch field, where Harry Potter almost single-handedly crushed the other teams with his amazingly precise and swift maneuvers, which, although formally not breaking the rules, nevertheless led to injuries and completely unpredictable results.
Of course, the same Sweet Tooth and Ruffnut were tearing themselves apart because they hadn't achieved the ideal result here either - but Harry personally began to... not care. Although no, he was also offended. But not as much as he would have been a month ago.
Everything was good. Everything was right ! As it should be.
The first year at Hogwarts was over. And Harry Potter sat, enjoying the peace and bliss, stroking his friend's silky hair and listening to the whispers of the warp. The holidays had arrived.
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