Harry jerked his head, closing his eyes and hissing in irritation - the flash of a camera momentarily blinded and disoriented him. He mechanically covered his face with the sleeve of his robe - with two purposes. The first was to actually shield his eyes from the flash. The second was to hide his long fangs, which he involuntarily released, baring his teeth in surprise.
- Crooked! - Ron Weasley, standing next to him, barked at the blond first-year student who was blinking his eyes stupidly. - You've already been told: back off! What Mordred?
"But…" the hapless paparazzi pulled his head into his shoulders. "I accidentally…"
"You accidentally got in the way of the 'famous Harry Potter', accidentally pointed the camera at him and accidentally pressed the button?" Draco Malfoy, who had stopped on the other side of Harry, asked mockingly.
"Well… Yes?" the boy smiled timidly, pressing his head even tighter.
"You couldn't come up with anything more ridiculous?" Weasley hissed angrily. "Get out of here! If you wave that stupid device around us again, I'll shove it up your arse!"
Colin Creevey - that was the name of the young photographer - ran away in fear, followed by an angry look from Ron, a contemptuous Draco, and an irritated Harry.
"You should have shoved that Mordred thing right away where you said it would be," the last one muttered sullenly. "Which case is this? The seventh? The eighth?"
"Only the sixth," Malfoy chuckled, shaking a non-existent speck of dust from his shoulder and straightening his emerald green Quidditch robe.
And yes: they were just heading to the vacated Quidditch pitch to fly around in their circle. More precisely, Harry and Malfoy were heading out to fly around – Ron was just keeping them company.
It must be said that Potter's victory in chess was not absolute. At least outwardly: he won a little more than half of the games with Ron and Draco. Although he could have won everything - because he learned to apply both his foresight and chess skills equally. But he decided, firstly, not to ruin his friends' enjoyment of the game, and secondly, not to show off his incredible abilities for now. Who knows what Snape or Dumbledore will do if he regularly surprises them? He didn't want to find out.
Harry preferred to surprise his opponents only when he decided to do so. Not earlier, not later!
They went onto the field because of Potter's victory in another field: Quidditch.
Despite the fact that Malfoy, having become the Seeker of the Slytherin team, supplied the team of his faculty with the newest brooms "Nimbus-2001", much more advanced than Harry's instrument painted in scarlet, the snake team still lost miserably in the first match! This time, Harry did not rush around the field all the time, circling exclusively around Malfoy, irritating and distracting him, provoking him to stupidity and causing Flint's anger. And when it was time for the Snitch, in a race with Draco, he made a dashing feint, jumping off and running part of the way along the parapet of the stands - after which he jumped down and caught the golden ball in a free fall! After which, almost at the very ground, he again grabbed the broom with his legs and came out of the dive.
Last year he showed some trick at every match - but this was still the first time! So the enthusiastically screaming Gryffindors again, just like the very first time, joyfully began to swing Harry, throwing the boy up into the air.
But Malfoy took his friend's victory very much to heart! Especially such a spectacular victory. But, to his credit, he didn't hold a grudge - he just asked to show how Potter does such things! To share the secrets of his craft, so to speak.
And Harry agreed with a laugh. He had long wanted to have a training partner not only in magic, but also in physical exercises.
So they went to the Quidditch pitch to fly a little - fortunately, there was a window in the teams' training, and no one should interfere with them.
Hermione remained in the castle, with much to think about. They hadn't been able to perform a full-fledged ritual involving the girl on Halloween, because the incident with Filch's cat had attracted too much attention. The surveillance in the corridors had increased too much, and the teachers seemed to be hiding around every corner, catching offenders: after all, attacks with such fatal results were out of the ordinary!
Later, of course, it turned out that Mrs. Norris had not been killed by the basilisk - and Harry knew perfectly well who was behind the attack. The kneazle had looked into his eyes not directly, but through the reflection in the water that had flowed from the neighboring toilet - only this saved the nasty creature! And it saved it not only from the Horror of the Chamber of Secrets, but also from becoming a victim for Harry and Hermione's ritual.
And Harry had already told his friend in general terms what awaited them. So far, it was vague and careful: from the series "are you sure you're ready for everything?" or "sometimes you have to sacrifice a little to get more" — and so on. But he saw that Granger was already ripe!
As Dobryak, a real expert on human complexes, had suggested to him, Hermione's thirst for knowledge and recognition stemmed from her inability to communicate with her peers. She always subconsciously considered herself smarter and more mature than the children around her - and therefore showed off her superiority, tried to control and manipulate them! Rudely, childishly, and therefore not very effectively.
As a result: no one really wanted to communicate with her. That is why there was less and less live communication in her life and more new books, new knowledge. And as a consequence - even more feeling of superiority over everyone around. Latent, unconscious... But it was there.
Well, of course! While those around her – even many adults – were burying their narrow, blinkered views in primitive desires and aspirations, it seemed that the very essence of the universe was opening up before her! Of course, in childhood this was expressed rather in a more diverse vocabulary, better knowledge of school and related programs, in knowledge of excerpts from books and encyclopedias. Now…
Now before her opened… the Ocean. How did she put it? "The endless galactic super-library"? A very relevant definition in her case. Especially if you lead her to the understanding that in order to obtain knowledge from this "library" you also need… certain actions.
After all, in essence, what difference would it make for Hermione to draw knowledge from the Hogwarts library or from the Ocean of Souls?
Taking a library card is already done conditionally when it opened before the warp for the first time. Consider "registered" at the librarian's desk.
To be a diligent student in the eyes of the Dean and Madam Pinns, so that she would be allowed to sit in the reading room and forgive some liberties? She could just as easily study with Harry, Brainy, or other demons. Or - who knows - with the Architect of Fates himself!
Continuing with the previous point about the "good girl": she periodically brings the same McGonagall and Pinns chocolates and helps with paperwork. She will also be able to make sacrifices. And also serve the will of Chaos!
And with each received "book" the juiciness of the "chocolates" that it will carry will increase. Appetite comes with eating. And the more food you swallow, the more your appetite will flare up later!
All that was needed was a step - one single step! A sacrifice, of course. Blood and pain, which so attract the creatures of the warp. To secure the window into the Immaterium that had opened in Hermione's soul, so that she could use the power of the Ocean of Souls herself, without Harry's prompting or help.
But as long as this unhealthy paranoia reigns at school, his hands are tied. However...
Harry almost stopped his broom as he realized the elegance and simplicity of the solution to the problem that had suddenly occurred to him!
The basilisk, Ginny Weasley possessed by a horcrux, chaos and paranoia, the search for the culprit... All this prevented the young chaosite from carrying out his dark rituals and generally made his secret life difficult. But only on one side!
Once again, Harry was convinced that the diversity of paths in Chaos played an important role.
He could accept the situation, sit back and wait – that's what a true Nurgle would do, and that's what Kindly One whispered to him. In the end, what could he do? Nothing. He didn't want to stop the attacks of the Horror of the Chamber of Secrets – Potter already had some plans for this whole situation, as well as for the Horror itself. Take the diary away from Ginny? Again – part of the plan, including testing the girl's strength and endurance.
Or, as Harry suddenly realized, it was possible to turn the situation to his advantage, not by stopping what was happening, but by maneuvering between events and taking advantage of the turmoil! In accordance with the principles of Tzeentch - the eternal rival of Grandfather Nurgle.
What does he have in stock? The Basilisk, the black notebook with the Horcrux, the second Horcrux inside the mental cage... and what this prisoner gives.
"But Parseltongue gives the opportunity not only to understand, but also to be understood," the boy thought, making another turn.
"What are you getting at?" Sweet Tooth asked slightly distantly, who was currently dominating Potter's head – the euphoria of flying on a broomstick, the precision and elegance of movements were now a priority.
"Confusion," Harry answered shortly, catching the Snitch again, almost under Malfoy's nose. "It's chaotic and uncontrollable. The Basilisk is uncontrollable! Most likely, the Horcrux in the black notebook is simply gaining strength, sucking the life and sanity out of little Weasley, not really caring about any plans yet. Perhaps soon, when its personality stabilizes a little, this fragment of the Dark Lord will begin to act in accordance with its lifetime beliefs - that is, it will set the Terror of Slytherin on the hated Mudbloods. But then again - until it is fully embodied, you should not expect clear logic and thoughtful tactics from it - which means that these will be spontaneous attacks, as in the case of Filch's cat."
"Hm ," the Slaaneshi thought for a moment. "And you want to plan these attacks yourself?"
"Exactly," Harry confirmed, stepping down onto the grass and off his broom. "Remember what Quirrell did in his first year? Making noise in the part of the castle opposite to where he was doing his own dirty work. Snape mentioned to him that the troll had struck at a very opportune moment when all the extra witnesses were in the Great Hall, and in the wing furthest from the Forbidden Corridor, so that the teachers couldn't catch Quirrell unraveling the wards."
"Oh, these Tzeentchian affairs of yours with Umnichka..." - Slastyona sighed deliberately regretfully. "Wouldn't it be easier to use your abstruse matrix-Forecasts, an invisibility cloak, or something simpler? Without some teeth-grinding, cunningly twisted plans?"
"I'm afraid not ," Smarty chimed in as they were already walking away from the Quidditch pitch, discussing the training session with a sweaty and flushed Malfoy. "Using the same techniques over and over again, and as stupidly and ineptly as you suggest, is a sure step towards defeat. A prediction is not a panacea, especially with a large number of variables, such as strong adult wizards around. Relying entirely on the Cloak is also not an option; in the end, you can get used to it. And that's certain death!"
"Only a weakling leans on crutches!" growled Ruffnut, sending a wave of dry, hot rage through Harry's mind. "You must not forget that all these clever tricks and trump artefacts are only tools, weapons! Using a weapon is one thing. Dependent on it, submissive to it, is quite another! A true warrior can kill without a weapon! And you must get used to doing without your wonderful cloak and rotten tricks!"
"As for the 'rotten' ones, I would ask..." Dobryak coughed slightly offended.
"That's why I'm suggesting other options," Harry waved his hand irritably, hurt by Ruffnut's sudden lecture. "Especially since the Forecast, if it were to be calculated not only on me but also on Hermione, would take too much energy - I can't handle that for now..."
"Then it's decided ," Smart Guy rounded off the topic, as if sensing the growing squabble. "We need to plan the operation, prepare the ritual site, and calculate the routes. Both the basilisk's route and that of its victim, and also our own, including the funeral route."
That's what they decided on.
As for the conversation with Draco, which Harry was having in parallel with the conversation inside his own head, it concerned, as expected, their pirouettes over the Quidditch pitch.
- That was something incredible, Potter! - Malfoy said, waving his arms in a completely unaristocratic manner and choking with delight. - No wonder I even heard about your father - he was one of the best players in the entire history of Quidditch competitions at Hogwarts! But some of your tricks... Normal people wouldn't even dare dream of such things!
"Come on, Malfoy," snorted Ron, who was walking a little to the side, with his hands behind his head and his face thrown back to the sky with a bored look. "Everything can be learned - one way or another. I learned this principle firmly over the past year! Another thing is that while you learn what Potter can do now, he will have time to learn a bunch of other tricks.
"Well, Draco can try to catch up with me," Harry chuckled slightly smugly. "Moreover, this idea is not completely hopeless!"
"I have plenty of responsibilities and interests outside of Quidditch," Malfoy snorted. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to back down, Potter!"
"I really hope you won't back down," Harry smiled. "Moreover, I suggest we train together regularly. You see, I need a training partner, and you just want to improve your Quidditch skills. We both win!"
In general, in addition to developing a plan to distract attention from his rituals, Harry simultaneously agreed with Draco about spending time together.
Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's loyal "bodyguards", were already waiting for them at the castle gates. They could not follow him onto the field: Snape had assigned them both detentions for their poor performance - in the form of additional potions classes. Incidents like these, by the way, proved that no matter how biased the Dean of Slytherin was towards other students, he still held his own accountable with all severity - behind closed doors. Harry learned about this only from Malfoy's words - in great secrecy.
Well, why not? I didn't really want to reveal anything.
"By the way, Malfoy, want to laugh?" snorted Weasley as they parted ways at the flight of stairs, one of which led down to the Slytherin dungeons, and the other to the upper floors, from where one could reach the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw wings. "Some of our lion cubs sincerely believe that you are the Heir of Slytherin!"
- Pfft! - Malfoy actually snorted. - No, of course I'm flattered and all that, but... Seriously? - Draco raised an eyebrow. - Probably some uneducated... Muggle-bloods talking nonsense, - he held back the curse that was about to burst from his tongue at the last moment.
- You know, I don't want to say that I approve of disdain for Muggle-borns, but... - Ronald hesitated. - But sometimes they really do irritate you! When they blurt out something stupid - you're ready to fall over! And it's the same story with the heir...
- Salazar Slytherin lived in the 10th century. And the Malfoys moved to Britain in the 12th, after which they did not marry his descendants and did not show any special traits inherent to them, - Draco said crisply, as if repeating long-learned lines. - Even my father would not risk attributing such a relationship to himself - and he dreams of such a thing oh-oh, how he dreams of it, - he added a little quieter.
"It's easy to catch some kind of family curse," Ron said thoughtfully.
- Ugh! - Malfoy spat in annoyance. - Weasley! We were just talking about ignorant Muggle-bloods - and now you're in the same boat! What curse on Mordred?
"Well… family," Weasley frowned in response. "They say all the ancient Dark families have one. Like…" he faltered under Draco's mocking gaze. "Like you can't use their last names without their permission… that's it."
- Yeah, - the Slytherin grimaced contemptuously. - And preferably - not to mention at all. What nonsense! And remember about the Dark Lord and his nicknames! Stupid Muggle superstition!
"Well, yes," Potter chuckled. "Don't mention the Devil, lest he accidentally come to you."
- Yes, - nodded Malfoy, not understanding, however, what kind of "Devil" this was, but he got the meaning. - That's it, I'm off. Otherwise, we'll get caught by Mordred's Creevey again - and soon our joint photographs will be hanging all over the school!
With these words, the trio of Slytherins departed towards the dungeons, leaving Harry and Ron alone.
"What is he showing off for?" Weasley muttered discontentedly as they were already climbing up to the Gryffindor tower.
"Maybe it's a Malfoy family trait?" Potter snorted cheerfully in response.
"Go to hell!" Ron also snickered - the joke was simple, but quite funny.
That evening, Harry was already wandering around the third floor of the central wing, following an ominous voice whispering of blood and murder. The basilisk sped up – it had obviously sensed something… or someone – so soon Potter was forced to break into a run. But, turning the next corner of the corridor, he crashed into someone!
"Mordred!" Harry swore in annoyance, realizing that he had missed the Terror of the Chamber of Secrets today. He glared at the culprit of his failure, the same first-year Colin Creevey, cowering on the floor. "Having you been following me again, Creevey?!"
It was all the more annoying because Harry sensed the underage paparazzi at the very last moment: the Threads of Fate were strangely twisted and intertwined in this place, so that it was impossible to discern details - but one could assume that something significant would soon happen here! The only thing Potter had established for sure was that nothing threatened him in the near future. But he could have simply "sniffed" the warp! But no - Harry was so carried away by the pursuit of the voice from the wall that he did not pay attention to anything.
And here is the result.
"No… I, that is…" Krivi, already milky white and naturally fair-haired, turned pale. "I just thought… well… I wanted to apologize…"
"Apologize?!" Potter growled, furious. "Apologize while continuing to do what you were originally scolded for?! You're making fun of me, Creevey!!"
"Smear this misunderstanding all over the floor!" Zabiyaka happily added fuel to the fire. "Our patience has run out! It's time to teach a lesson to everyone who bothers us! Tear off his arms! Break his legs! Crush his skull!"
And at that moment, as if what had already happened wasn't enough, Colin began to raise his ever-present camera to his eyes. For a few moments, Harry even looked at it in disbelief: was Creevey really that stupid and didn't understand that he was already walking on a knife edge? And still couldn't think of anything better to do than take a photo in the midst of an argument about his behavior?!
And the next moment Harry was already quickly moving away and simultaneously turning around, taking out his wands. He realized that Creevey wanted to take a photo not of him, but of what he saw behind Potter!
Well, at least now Harry knew where the basilisk had gone.
There was a flash of light, a furious hissing sound, and the smell of burning plastic filled the air, with a cloud of smoke rising towards the ceiling. Harry caught a glimpse of Creevey, who had collapsed almost flat on the floor, but then his attention was completely taken by the basilisk.
What can I say? The beast looked impressive!
The enormous snake loomed over the boy, rising two or three yards above the floor, like the letter "S." Its massive head, crowned with horns, turned as if leaning toward a nonexistent shoulder, and its yellow eyes, glowing brightly in the dimness of the corridor, stared into Potter's eyes.
His brain was seared, Ruffnut's screams in his head turned into a continuous furious roar, and Harry's eyes were clouded with a bloody veil. Some overgrown worm thought it could paralyze and devour him so easily? No way!
Anger at Creevey, adrenaline from the sudden attack, the seething energy of Khorne in his soul - all this poured out into Harry's rapid leap forward and up, towards the basilisk's head! He clearly did not expect such agility from a potential victim, and therefore did not have time to react - and now Potter was hanging on his neck, bending him to the floor!
A furious hiss, a kicking snake carcass, stone chips from a window sill broken by a tail darting in different directions, the crash of falling armor - complete chaos broke out in the corridor! The basilisk kicked furiously and hissed almost at an ultrasound - Harry managed to stick his wand, sparking with magic, into its nostril, which caused serious pain. Several times the monster pressed the boy hard against the wall - trying to crush or at least stun the impudent little bugger that dared to resist the King of Snakes! But Harry Potter was already much stronger and more powerful than a human could ever be, and especially a twelve-year-old boy - and therefore only hissed in pain in response, getting more and more excited.
Finally, with a particularly successful jerk, the basilisk managed to throw Potter away from itself, after which he, having quickly flown a couple of yards, broke through some door with the sign "Toilet not working."
And indeed: it turned out to be an abandoned women's toilet. But not a simple one: in its middle there was a wide round hole leading somewhere down.
The indistinct voices of Smarty, Sweet Tooth, and Kindly flashed on the edge of consciousness and then died away - due to the Madness of Khorne pulsating in his head, it was difficult to make out much of the jumble of anger and fury that was overwhelming Harry. The fleeting understanding that this was where the basilisk had crawled out from to strike them in the rear came and went. To be replaced again by the desire to kill, tear apart, chop into mincemeat first the fucking basilisk that had vilely attacked them from behind, and then the cretin Creevey, who had been stalking Harry since the beginning of the year!
And the huge snake was already crawling into the toilet, clearly trying to escape back into the sewer pipes.
" S-stop, carrion! " Potter suddenly hissed in Parseltongue, even to himself, wiping the blood from his face and getting to his feet. " I'm not finished with you yet!"
The basilisk snarled furiously from the pipe itself, its eyes flashing and fangs bared. Several scales were missing from its face, the nostril into which Harry had stuck his wand was charred, and a couple of the spikes on its head were broken - Harry had not just hung on its neck during the short fight, having managed to inflict some damage on his opponent.
- Who are you anyway? - the giant snake answered, also in Parseltongue. - There is something of the True Master in you, you speak the language of snakes - but you are not him! Why didn't you die from the King's Gaze?
" You talk too much! " Harry barked back, ripping a sink out of the wall and throwing it at the basilisk's head with great force. It almost managed to dodge: the ceramic projectile grazed its cheekbone, causing it to hiss even louder and rush into the hole in the floor, which immediately began to close.
" You won't get away! " Harry growled in rage, managing to jump after the basilisk at the last moment. The consequences, problems and other things didn't bother him at that moment...
December 1992. Hogwarts. Hospital wing.
"The boy is lucky," Snape hissed, standing not far from the cot onto which Colin Creevey had just been laid. "Whatever it was, it affected Creevey through the camera, so all the magic was concentrated on the lens and the film. But that also means," he glanced sideways at Madam Pomfrey, who was fussing over the paralyzed first-year, "that our theory about a wizard being behind the attacks is wrong."
"Something really did come out of the Chamber of Secrets," Dumbledore sighed sullenly. "And that something is killing again! Just like in the old days. Just like half a century ago…"
"But, Albus!" McGonagall, standing next to them, clasped her hands. "How did this happen? Could it be that… could it be that the Heir of Slytherin actually showed up? And opened the Chamber of Secrets?"
"I'm afraid so," the director shook his gray head. "And therefore, for now, this fact should not become public knowledge."
"Albus…" Snape began, his voice growing increasingly menacing.
"We will take all security measures," Dumbledore snapped. "Patrolling the corridors, tracking charms, briefing portraits and ghosts. For the same reasons I have told you many times, my boy," he shot a warning glance over his half-glasses in the Potions Master's direction.
"As you say, Headmaster," Snape immediately returned to his usual cold tone. He was going to continue this conversation as soon as they were away from prying ears - in Dumbledore's office, for example.
And already half an hour later, when all the orders had been given and Minerva had been sent to her rooms – it was already late – the conversation continued.
- It's Tom, - the headmaster took the bull by the horns, standing in his favorite pose by the window: with his hands behind his back and frowning at the Forbidden Forest stretching to the horizon. - I know it. I feel it! He wants to get to the boy again. Since Harry returned to the wizarding world, the danger has increased many times! And the events that have been happening at the school for the second year are proof of that.
"You know, Albus," Snape sighed wearily, sitting down in the chair opposite the headmaster's throne. "Sometimes I just don't understand all this Mordred politics! No, it's clear that it's important and necessary - but to risk children like this..." he spread his palms. "It's beyond my understanding!"
"I am trying to keep magical Britain from falling into chaos, Severus," Dumbledore shook his head. "With the fall of the Dark Lord, the war died down – that's true. The leader was defeated – and the pack quickly fell apart. The wolves were put in Azkaban, and the jackals hid in their holes. But that doesn't mean their ideas are dead!"
"No one has ever called me a jackal," the potion maker grimaced slightly.
"You, Severus, are more of a dog," the old director chuckled to Snape's indignant hiss. "Not evil, in principle, a yard dog who just wasn't very lucky in life..."
- Oh, - Severus couldn't even think of an answer right away. - You know, Albus, this is even interesting! Usually, another... mutual friend of ours is associated with a dog. Who turned out to be, according to your classification, a real "wolf".
- And that is also one of my greatest disappointments, - Dumbledore smiled bitterly. - As for you, yes, you are not a wolf. You are a dog who accidentally ended up in a wolf pack. I know you better than many, Severus! You are quite a tough, even cruel person, but you are still not capable of doing something truly vile.
"As it turns out, he is capable after all," the potion maker said in a dead voice.
- We have already spoken about this, my boy, - the headmaster, realizing what he was talking about, sighed and turned to his interlocutor. - The death of Lily Potter is a terrible tragedy for all of us. But to blame yourself for this? - He shook his head. - It is not worth it. Think about it in a different way, - a look over his half-glasses. - If the Dark Lord had not gone to kill the Potters on that fateful night, or if he had not managed to penetrate them: how much more blood would have been spilled? How many babies would he have killed in search of the very one indicated by the prophecy? It may sound cynical, but ... with her death, Lily saved many, many! It was a necessary sacrifice ...
- For the Common Good, yes? - Severus spat out, like some kind of curse. - I know. I've heard. Many times! You cover up all your affairs with this extremely convenient slogan, Albus! - he hissed in rage. - Lily's death - please, if it serves the Common Good. The spirit of the Dark Lord in the body of a school teacher - we will wait, for the Common Good! An attack on the school - we will not allow this matter to proceed, for the Common Good!! How many lives are you prepared to sacrifice in the name of your Mordred Common Good, Headmaster? - Snape hissed, already looming over Dumbledore, who had taken his seat.
He looked at him with a completely calm gaze of clear blue eyes.
"As many as it takes," the old director replied coldly. "Including my own, Severus. Have I answered your question?"
"It's perfectly clear," the potion maker exhaled, as if deflated, and sank into a chair.
"Excellent," Dumbledore said dryly. "Now let's discuss our situation. What have we managed to find out while the trail was still hot?"
"Filius said he felt something in that corridor," Snape snorted slightly mockingly, not noticing how Albus immediately looked at him intently. "But he's been kind of… twitchy lately anyway. He's started spouting some kind of quasi-religious goblin nonsense at times, with verses in the style of the one engraved at the entrance to Gringotts," he winced. "So I wouldn't trust such 'instincts'. But what I saw with my own eyes… That's much more interesting."
"I saw the devastation in the abandoned ladies' room too, Severus," said Dumbledore. "Did you see something more?"
"Someone has clashed with the Terror of the Chamber of Secrets," the Potions Master pursed his lips. "And this 'someone' is clearly not a schoolboy! At the very least, putting up such a furious resistance to a huge snake - even seventh-year students are not capable of that!"
"Stop! Did you say 'snake'?" Albus frowned.
"Oh, yes," Snape chuckled slightly smugly, groping for something in the inside pocket of his coat. "I found this there."
A large greenish-gray scale landed on the table. There was silence for a minute.
"This…" Dumbledore said slowly.
"Snake scales," Snape said through gritted teeth. "However, it would be strange to expect any other animal than a snake from Salazar Slytherin. And if you add to that the facts of numbness..."
"The problems are becoming much more significant than I expected," Albus croaked suddenly, his voice hoarse.
Silence again, broken only by the crackling of the candle flames. This time it lasted for two full minutes before Snape asked in his usual cold voice:
— Do you still think that nothing should be done, Director?
"It's worth doing," Dumbledore finally "froze off" after pulling himself together. "But without involving the Ministry."
"The Order?" Severus asked in a serious tone.
"Yes," the director pulled the collar of his colorful robe. "Alastor just has a new intern – I think we'll set it up as a process of additional training for the future Auror…"
Potter again.
The landing was surprisingly soft: at some point, the vertical pipe Harry was flying along smoothly turned to the side and the boy rolled down it, as if from a slide. Finding himself in a wide round corridor - more reminiscent of a sewer tunnel. At the far end, the rustle of scales on stone and the hiss of a basilisk were heard - the creature was clearly trying to end up where it would have an advantage over the impudent little man, who was not affected by either the monstrous blows of the tail or even the killing look! And there, in the depths of unknown dungeons, in the lair of the monster ... Let's see who will win!
Harry followed at a measured trot after the serpent. Khorne's fury had subsided a little, finally balanced by the rest of their mental community, leaving behind a focused, cold battle fury.
"We need to leave the creature alive ," Smart Guy grumbled discontentedly. "Remember the plan!"
"I remember," the boy answered tensely, running around the piles of garbage and mouse bones on the floor.
Harry looked very strange now, if not scary. And torn clothes with dirt were not the most impressive thing about his image!
The skin on his hands had turned black and was covered in a network of crimson cracks, as if lava, encrusted with soot, was bubbling under his skin. The same "crust" had formed around his eyes, which were currently glowing a bright green light that had swallowed up the whites. The pupils had shrunk into vertical snake-like slits of crimson-amber color.
The mouth grinned furiously, revealing long snake fangs and a barbed tongue that lashed involuntarily from side to side in time with the boy's steps. Reality itself seemed to be cracking and writhing around Harry, ready to burst under the onslaught of the Immaterium!
Finally, they found themselves at a stone door, made in the shape of intertwined snakes.
"Doesn't this remind you of anything?" Smart Guy chuckled.
"Yes," Harry nodded. "This door is in Riddle's Horcrux memories."
In the space in Harry's mind that the Dark Lord's shard occupied, there really was that door—or rather, the memory of it. It seemed to be where he and Brainy had pinned the remnant of the self-proclaimed lord before enslaving him.
Hissing "Open" in Parseltongue, Harry stepped into the opening and looked around.
The vast hall with columns going up somewhere was lined with black marble. Water glistened along the walls: two pools with obviously running water were located behind the columns. And at the far end of the hall towered an ominous statue of a bearded wizard.
"Salazar Slytherin," Harry whispered, simultaneously looking around the room for an opponent.
"Definitely ," chuckled Smarty. "We'll deal with this worm - we'll have to search everything here."
- S-s-s! - came from the darkness at the far end of the hall.
Coiling in huge coils, the basilisk crawled out into the middle of the room and stared at the intruder. In no hurry, however, to attack. And after almost a minute of staring - accompanied by a headache for Harry - it finally spoke:
" You, a m-mortal mage. You wield a p-power that my kind has not encountered for a long time ," the Snake King hissed.
" Are you giving up? " the boy grinned in agreement.
" We don't need to fight any more, " the basilisk answered diplomatically, crawling closer. "You have proven your strength and right to command. Give the order!"
"He senses the warp in you ," Smarty drawled with satisfaction. "How old is this creature?"
"A thousand at the very least ," Sweet Tooth chuckled admiringly. "Basilisk could have found this world back in the days when it was not closed off from the outer Ether!"
" Will you obey me? " Potter asked suspiciously. " And what about your 'True Master'?"
- You also have a part of him , - the basilisk shook its head, having already approached to a distance of only five yards. - Weakened, small - but a part! The other part, which comes with the red-haired girl, is more colorful and correct, but you are stronger! And therefore I am ready to serve, Master.
Harry grunted with satisfaction - and the flames on his hands went out, and his eyes stopped glowing in the dark. He put his wands in special cases under the attentive gaze of the giant snake, which had already crawled almost right up to him...
At that moment the basilisk rushed forward, opening its mouth wide!
Harry just smiled smugly, taking his hand out from behind his back with the dagger clenched in it. His foresight had not failed him...
More chapters on my P@treon: https://patreon.com/OOOTEN