The basilisk's mouth, wide open almost to Harry's full height, suddenly rushed towards the boy! The terrible fangs closed - and the monster even imagined in its head the chomping sound of fangs penetrating soft flesh, the crunch of breaking bones and the cry of a self-confident wizard who decided to challenge the King of Snakes on his territory!
However, the jaws only clicked loudly, grabbing empty air - the figure disappeared in a cloud of stinking black smoke, leaving no trace!
Basilisk shook his head in utter amazement. A delusion?!
And the next moment his scaly skin was scorched by flames!
It was a flame of an unnatural crimson color, mixed with strange sparks of a completely incredible shade - but that's not the point!
Like the ghost that attacked the basilisk, the fire was just a trick, which, although it badly battered the giant serpent, was not the main attack. Because at the moment when the serpent bent down to the ground, dodging the stream of flame, something sharp slashed its face!
The monster's furious hiss seemed to soon turn into ultrasound - the basilisk's pain was so strong that it could almost be felt! And no wonder: one of the amber-yellow eyes of the King of Snakes flowed out, leaving in its place an ugly scar from a blow with a long dagger. A dagger that the real Harry was clutching in his hands, and not his illusory fake!
- And they call you the Terror of the Chamber of Secrets? - the boy hissed mockingly in Parseltongue. - It would be easy for me to just gouge out your eyes along with your brain! Or take off your skin quickly and put your head on a pike as an offering to my Gods!
In response, the basilisk bared its teeth furiously and tried to attack again, this time without wasting time on deception or any maneuvers: simply and without fuss, it rushed at the impudent human boy who had wounded him with such dexterity, and even dared to mock him!
But Harry decided it was time to finish: he had almost slipped into bloody madness, carelessly succumbing to the influence of Ruffnut - he didn't need to go crazy again and carelessly finish off the valuable snake.
And so the basilisk did not reach Harry: its tail was entangled in glowing thorny vines - the young wizard's conjured magical fetters, which he used to hold his victims during rituals. Usually he used special symbols to summon them, previously saturated with blood and warp energy, but now there was no time to draw them, and so he had to summon them with bare force. Which, of course, affected the effectiveness and power of the fetters, and it also hit the hapless summoner - Harry felt blood flow from his nose.
But they did their job: the monster of the Chamber of Secrets was temporarily immobilized and disoriented. Not for long, but this time was enough for Potter to jump up to the basilisk trying to free itself and drive the knife into its side!
- In the name of the Prince of Pleasure! - Potter cried out, clenching his teeth from the tension, trying not to let go of the hilt of the dagger - the monster managed to kick violently even when fixed. - Bow down before me, snake! For I place His six chains on you, I swear by His six breasts and conjure you with six sweet prayers! Bow down!
Strange bumps began to radiate from the place where Harry had thrust the dagger under the basilisk's scales, like swollen veins or worms crawling under the skin. The monster almost howled in unbearable pain and almost freed itself from the grip - but Potter only increased the pressure!
Finally, the terrifying mounds began to glow from within - as if melted, crimson-colored metal had been poured under the basilisk's skin. After which the "worms" stopped spreading and froze, starting to smoke, scorching the snake's scales from within with an otherworldly fire!...
...And leaving behind a black mark of Slaanesh fused into the basilisk's body. Only then did the Horror of the Chamber of Secrets stop kicking, collapsing onto the floor as a huge, senseless carcass, and Harry pulled the dagger out of the limp carcass.
- S-s... - after about five minutes the basilisk somehow came to its senses and rose above the floor. - A wizard... I never thought that I would ever meet someone who could reach the Ancient Powers! The Lord of S-S-Speaks to you, - the basilisk bowed its head submissively. But this time Harry did not feel any cunning or threat on his part. Only boundless surprise and sincere submission. - Command, lord! - the basilisk hissed, almost crawling on the floor. - You are the True Master of all S-S ...
"Didn't you recently consider the Dark Lord to be the True Master? " Harry asked, squinting suspiciously.
"He is only a weak copy of you, sir, " the snake readily explained. "The blood of the Ancients, the ancient rituals in honor of the Gods are lost. He wanted to get to the Truth, but did not succeed. Too weak and stupid! But you succeeded, " and again the basilisk almost crawled along the floor, literally groveling before its new master.
"Why didn't you tell him about these Truths? " Harry chuckled.
- At the time when he woke me up from a thousand-year sleep, those Truths were not yet available. The Gods were forced to leave our world long ago, and the passage to them was sealed! - the basilisk shook its horned head. - But you... You have the power of the Laughing God. Therefore, you are His chosen one and messenger! The one who managed to reach the Outer Ocean. And once again turn the blessed gaze of the Gods to our world.
The giant snake coiled itself into a small circle around Harry, carefully, so as not to touch the symbol burned into its side. He continued to watch the terrifying beast closely, but all his senses told him that there was nothing to fear - the basilisk had truly been brought to submission.
- That magician who speaks the true language, whose part sits in you - the contract with him and his family was concluded long ago and firmly! But what is a contract with a mortal compared to the return of God? - If the basilisk had shoulders, he would probably shrug them indifferently now. - Dust and ashes!
"Well said ," Sweet Tooth chuckled joyfully.
"Well," said Smarty, satisfied. "Half the job is done. What are we waiting for? It's time to try out the new toy!"
December 1992. Hogwarts. One week later.
"Alastor," Dumbledore smiled a little tiredly as the fireplace in his office burst into green flames and the figure of a one-legged Auror stepped out of it into the room. "I'm glad you came."
"When things get tough, you always call me," Moody grumbled. "But you don't always listen to my advice, Albus!"
"Quirinus is dead, Alastor," the director shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to discuss the old paranoid's insane assumptions again. "And he will no longer be able to perform his rituals near the boy."
"If it was Quirrel," Moody shrugged, stomping unceremoniously into the middle of the office and sitting down in a chair. "If there were no accomplices, and if…"
- Alastor, - Dumbledore frowned irritably. - Now is not the time or place to discuss this! There are too many coincidences: you said it yourself. The strange rituals stopped just when Quirinus returned to Hogwarts, and no one else in Little Whinging has done anything like that! There are more important problems now.
"Yes," the Auror winced. "For example, I wonder where that clumsy girl is?..."
At that moment the fireplace flared up for the second time and spat out a cloud of soot. Something squeaked in this cloud and clumsily fell on the fluffy carpet, simultaneously hitting a nearby table and a strangely ringing device on it, causing the entire structure to collapse on top of the sprawled new guest, causing another muffled squeak.
- I'm fine! - a girl's hand in a black leather mitten appeared from under the pile that had formed. And a couple of seconds later, a pretty, slender girl with bright red hair, which almost immediately changed color to pink, rose from under the fallen table. She was dressed in a dark red Auror robe, under which were visible the most ordinary Muggle jeans, a top and high leather boots with thick soles. - S-sorry, Headmaster, I'll clean everything up now! - She began to somewhat fussily install the device that had been dropped from the lopsided table.
"Miss Tonks," Dumbledore said, hiding a smile in his beard. "Don't worry, I'll ask the house elves to clean up here. Sit down. Sweets?" He pushed a vase of his favorite lemon slices towards the girl, who had turned pink with embarrassment.
"Thank you," she sniffled, sat down on the second guest chair and, glancing mischievously at Moody, who was muttering something, began to eat the candies.
"If you've finished your greetings, I suggest we get back to business," the Auror creaked discontentedly. "Attacks on schoolchildren, the Horror of the Chamber of Secrets - did I understand you correctly, Albus? If so, then I really hope this is some kind of joke!"
"No jokes, Alastor," the director shook his head gloomily and laid out on the table in front of the guests a scale found at the site of the fight between an unknown wizard and Slytherin's monster.
Moody immediately pulled out his wand and began waving it over the find. Having made sure that there were no spells or curses on it, he grabbed the scale with his hand and brought it to his magical eye.
"A basilisk," the Auror said with some kind of gloomy satisfaction. "And quite an ancient and large one at that. However, what else can you expect from an ancient dark magician..."
- Oh! - Tonks almost choked on her lemon wedge. - So a huge predatory snake, with a whole mouth of poisonous fangs and a deadly, petrifying gaze?
"Bravo, Intern Tonks, at least something's stuck in your head," Moody grumbled.
"Well, I still don't have that many extra holes in it," the girl, barely holding back a smile, glanced sideways at her boss's crippled eye socket, in which his prosthesis shone blue.
- And it's like this all the time! - Alastor complained, looking with displeasure at Dumbledore laughing into his beard and his giggling subordinate. - You give her a word - she gives you ten in return!
"We were all young once," the Headmaster shook his head, causing the injured Auror to snort even more indignantly. "But let's get down to business," Dumbledore said seriously. "Basilisks can hibernate for long periods of time and not feed for years. The only reason I can explain why we've gotten away with a paralyzed cat and a first-year in the last few months is that the creature hasn't fully recovered from so many years of sleep. If the creature had fully awakened, there would have been corpses – and quite a lot of them!"
"There would be strange disappearances, you mean," Moody snorted. "Giant snakes don't leave corpses, Albus - they swallow their victims whole."
"It makes little difference, Alastor," the director looked at his interlocutor sullenly. "We are in a castle full of children! If the creature gains strength and begins hunting in earnest..."
"It's difficult to resist the basilisk, but it's entirely possible," the Auror shrugged. "Special eye protection, agility, knowledge, and ingenuity — that's all we need. There are much more important questions. For example, how can we track it?" He slammed his fist on the table. "The Chamber of Secrets is secret because it still needs to be found! And only the heir of Slytherin can get into it. That means we need to wait in the corridors, hoping to catch the creature while hunting. And the second question," Moody narrowed his healthy eye, "concerns the so-called 'heir' himself. Someone must have released the basilisk, right? And there's almost a 100% chance that 'someone' is studying at you-know-which faculty!"
"Alastor, this is an extremely biased judgment," Dumbledore said somewhat uncertainly.
- Really? - the Auror grimaced. - The Heir of Slytherin, who releases a giant snake to hunt the Mudbloods he hates: really, what does he have to do with the Slytherin house, with its crest in the form of a snake, full of blood-deadening devourers? - the poisonous sarcasm that oozed from Moody's words could compete in venom with the same basilisk.
"Many people, even in Gryffindor, claim distant and indirect kinship with Slytherin. What's more!" the director suddenly chuckled. "Harry Potter himself could turn out to be the 'heir'."
- Pfft! Well, that's unlikely, - Tonks laughed, but then stopped short, seeing that Dumbledore was not joking at all. - What do you mean? But Harry... His mother was Muggle-born! And she and his father fought He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! This is absurd! - the girl was indignant, her eyes wide.
"I was speaking purely in theory," the director chuckled again. "The Potters trace their lineage back to the ancient and dark Peverell family, and they have more than once or twice intermarried with the Slytherins and Gaunts. But you're right, my girl, Harry can't possibly be this 'heir'. For personal reasons, so to speak."
"If we're done with stupid assumptions, then I'll continue my thought," Moody croaked discontentedly. "Slytherin House. And that slimy bastard Snape is their dean..."
"I trust Severus completely," the director snapped.
- Ugh! - the Auror spat with annoyance. - Understand, Albus, now is not the time for your high-flown nonsense about "faith in people" and "second chances"! Snape is a former Death Eater, a liar and a bastard, who climbed out of poverty only thanks to his beloved Lord. So for me personally, he is the most likely candidate for the accused!
"He's a half-blood," Dumbledore tried again.
- So what? The Dark Lord was one too - that didn't stop him from becoming a blood-purity-obsessed psychopath and murderer. And Snape's mother was a Prince, I think - and they were some dark bastards! And he couldn't stand his Muggle father, according to our information. And even if it wasn't him personally, - Moody chopped the air with his palm. - What's stopping him from smuggling the spirit of You-Know-Who into the school? They already managed to pull off that trick last year!
"And Severus stood up to him as well as I did," the headmaster's voice clanged like metal. "Alastor! I repeat once again: I trust Snape completely and entirely. Period!"
The Auror's teeth were grinding so loudly and angrily that even Tonks didn't dare say anything. Half a minute of staring games between Dumbledore and Moody - and then the one-eyed Auror leans back in his chair, admitting defeat.
"Very well, Albus," he said acidly. "Then where do you propose to begin?"
"With your legend, for example," the old director chuckled. "You understand that it's better not to spread the word about what's happening within the school walls?"
- Yeah. Well, like, it's Order business! - Tonks nodded quickly. - And the students couldn't tell someone? - she frowned.
"So far, all we know is that someone played a stupid prank on Filch's cat, accompanied by a creepy inscription. There have been worse pranks," Dumbledore shook his head. "But the disappearance of first-year Creevey will have to be hidden. He has been transferred to a closed part of the Hospital Wing, and his classmates have been told that he has fallen seriously ill, and therefore has been temporarily transferred to home schooling.
"It's shaky and unreliable, but it'll do," the Auror snorted.
"As for the two of you," a glance over his half-glasses, "I decided that the invitation of such a… renowned fighter against the Dark Forces as Gilderoy Lockhart," here Alastor snorted contemptuously, "could be used to much greater advantage, supplementing his, ahem, lectures… with explanations from an experienced servant of the law."
"That means we'll still have to deal with this advertised dud," Moody grimaced.
"What can you do: the Ministry doesn't hold Defense Against the Dark Arts in high regard," Albus sighed heavily. "After the war, our officials are generally extremely suspicious of any hint that ordinary people will be able to stand up for themselves," he snorted. "How many lectures have I already heard on the topic of 'let's remove Defense Against the Dark Arts from the school curriculum altogether - it's propaganda of violence and aggression'!"
- What nonsense? - this time it was Moody who choked. - If ordinary wizards could defend themselves normally during a war, there would be no need for any Order!
"But Fudge and his hangers-on and… sponsors," Albus grimaced, "think differently. That the war occurred because of a clash of 'illegal gangs' that grew up, among other things, because too many ordinary people possessed 'aggressive spells'."
- Let me guess who these "sponsors" are! - Moody hissed furiously. - Malfoy and the other rich purebloods. Bastards! - he gritted his teeth again. - What do they have at the Defense Against the Dark Arts school or not - they teach their own offspring all sorts of nastiness just fine without him! But Muggle-bloods without knowledge and skills in the magical world will be absolutely defenseless against them!
"I understand that. You understand that," Dumbledore said sullenly. "And Fudge sincerely believes that if schoolchildren learn a couple of defensive or offensive spells, they will immediately want to use them against the 'acting absolutely legitimate authorities,'" he parodied the Minister's tone.
"So a bunch of families sitting in their closed manors and practicing the Dark Arts isn't a threat to his 'absolutely legitimate power'?!" Moody slammed his fist on the tabletop. "And scattered Muggle-bloods who simply want to learn how to defend themselves from attacks by such bastards or dark creatures - that's already illegal, right?!"
"That's not fair!" Tonks interjected with an indignant cry.
"That's why I have to spend so much time on what you, Alastor, contemptuously call 'politicking,'" Dumbledore muttered discontentedly. "And, by the way, you and Severus are surprisingly united in your desire to remind me how vile and unworthy this occupation is!" he could not resist a jab.
- Alright, alright! - Moody raised his hands in a protective gesture. - Weal, Albus, as we are weal! You are our Great Light, waging an irreconcilable struggle amidst the darkness of stupidity and hypocrisy. If you say that we will have to deal with Lockhart, then so be it. But what exactly do you require of us?
- Mostly? Primarily observation, - nodded Dumbledore. - As you like: constant vigilance! - He raised a finger, to Moody's snort and Tonks's laughter. - Of course, you should pay special attention to Harry Potter. Voldemort already tried to attack him once. Which means - it may well be that the events that are taking place are also his doing.
"A disembodied spirit can be anywhere and in any capacity," the Auror grumbled. "As a spirit itself, as a homunculus, or like last year - find an idiot willing to let it into his body!"
"Well, keep an eye on everyone," Albus glanced at Moody over his half-moon glasses. "If it makes you feel better, keep an eye on Severus too. But still, please, heed my words."
"Yes, yes, for some reason you absolutely trust this devouring scum," Alastor winced. "What else?"
"A cover," Dumbledore nodded. "Of course, I can't appoint you to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts by my own will: this Lockhart is too much of a public figure, so if he resigns, both the Ministry and the public will rise up in arms," he winced, as if he had chewed a regular lemon, not a candied one. "But you can give a couple of comments… hmm, well, for example, on the legal side of interaction with aggressive external factors – the Ministry ones love that kind of thing."
- What? - Moody's eyes widened at the director. - Are you seriously suggesting that I read to the children all these empty paragraphs and paragraphs that the idiots from the Ministry make us do during our service? You know, - he croaked, - Binns would be much more suitable for this role. Just his thing: boringly whining all sorts of useless information garbage!
"Alastor," he said, looking mockingly over his half-moon glasses. "That's why it's called a cover, because it doesn't have to be done exactly like that. Or you don't have to do it," he turned his gaze to Tonks.
- What? - the girl's eyes widened. - No! Boss, you can't!... - she looked at the Auror in horror.
- And you won't be so sarcastic next time! - Moody chuckled. - Oh, come on, come on, - seeing Tonks' upset look, he raised his hands. - Don't be so scared. I'm not some kind of beast - to make people mumble all these laws, amendments and other nonsense. Under the guise of legal nonsense, we'll just take turns holding normal Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. And patrol the corridors at the same time. Can you handle it, Tonks? - the Auror narrowed his eyes.
"Yes sir, boss!" the girl nodded with relief.
"But how do we distract Lockhart then?" Moody frowned.
- Oh, knowing Gilderoy, I can say one thing for sure, - Dumbledore smiled slyly. - He will run away every time there is an opportunity to transfer teaching to someone else. Moreover, he will think that you, as you put it, will "mumble laws and amendments" - and this will not add to his glory or fame.
"Then let's get started," Moody stood up from his chair decisively.
December 1992. Hogwarts. Potter again.
Fluffy snow fell to the ground, covering the courtyard of the castle with a luxurious white carpet. Large flakes fell slowly and majestically, filling the head with a sweet emptiness and languor.
There was something mesmerizing about this dance of snow. Something hypnotizing!
Harry closed his eyes, slightly watering from this unbearable whiteness, and bit his lip. For the second time in his life, he was experiencing a period when feelings of incredible brightness and intensity fell upon him! Brought to the limit, to the very edge of pain, the sensations from everything around him sometimes made him freeze, just like at this moment, and simply enjoy !
It was a return gift from Slaanesh for the conquered basilisk - not for nothing was this God (or Goddess - depending on what) called the Prince of Pleasure! Harry Potter realized from his own example that this nickname was absolutely deserved.
"Potter! Are you frozen there?" Draco Malfoy drawled as he walked from the entrance to the main building, accompanied as always by his retinue of Crabbe and Goyle.
"And you want to warm me up?" Harry, out of long-standing habit, slyly stuck the tip of his tongue out between his teeth and lowered his Love Glance.
- You idiot! - Malfoy immediately turned red, looking sideways furiously at the cackling Crabbe and Goyle. - What's wrong with you, idiots? It's understandable that Potter has stupid fantasies, he's crazy! And what are you laughing at?
- Well, so... - the two big guys looked at each other and shrugged. - It's funny.
- Hm! - Malfoy grimaced and turned sharply towards the exit from the school grounds.
"Where are you going?" Harry asked, catching up with them at the exit beyond the walls. His curiosity was suddenly aroused. However, it was not surprising, especially in a state of heightened senses.
Malfoy stopped abruptly and measured Potter with his gaze. And then, as if having thought something over carefully, he answered:
- To Hagrid's. You can join us, by the way, - he waved his hand invitingly. - He was just asking about you.
- You? To Hagrid? - Harry's eyes widened, losing all his confident look. Which greatly amused Draco. - He... doesn't really like Slytherins.
"You can find an approach to everyone," Malfoy chuckled smugly, finally regaining control of the situation. "So, are you coming?"
Of course, Harry agreed.
Leaving Crabbe and Goyle at the entrance to the cabin, the Slytherin and Gryffindor went inside.
"Hello, kids," the half-giant greeted them, not particularly warmly. He glanced warily at Harry and then at Malfoy. "Harry, I, er, wasn't quite expecting you to come, so..."
"Harry is aware of our affairs, Mr. Hagrid," Draco smiled slightly condescendingly at this. "More or less," he looked at Potter with a hint, which made him decide to put his surprise away.
- Um... yes, - Harry also smiled and nodded. Although he had no idea what kind of "business" Malfoy had with the forester. But he was not going to pass up the chance to find out!
"Father said to tell you that the license to breed acromantulas is practically in your pocket," the blond Slytherin said. "As for the unicorn hair, it's very fortunate that you have access to centaurs."
- Well, what do you mean, "exit"... - Hagrid croaked. - Centaurs don't like wizards. And they only talk to me because my wand was broken at one time, - here he frowned, as if remembering something. - Well, and because I'm half-giant - like, also... a magical creature, - the forester glanced warily at the impassively silent Malfoy. As if he was afraid of something.
"And there's no way to interest them?" Draco raised an eyebrow, not paying attention to his interlocutor's antics.
"Centaurs don't like wizards," Hagrid repeated, shaking his head. "And to get them to let someone outside their territory, you have to offer them something really valuable!"
- Hm, - the Slytherin pursed his lips. But, seeing the question in Potter's eyes, he decided to explain: - There are currently quite a few jobs in wizarding Britain. Father says that this is a consequence of long-standing stagnation, an unwillingness to expand and find new horizons! Well, and the past war, of course, - the boy clarified. - So he decided to organize an enterprise for collecting ingredients in the Forbidden Forest - on a legal and permanent basis. And to involve in this business many unemployed wizards who are now forced to either vegetate among Muggles or lead a marginal lifestyle.
He rattled off the last phrase in a memorized manner, as if he had set out to quote particularly resonant statements by Lucius Malfoy.
"And the elder Malfoy is no fool ," exclaimed the Smart Guy admiringly. "I am convinced once again that if this man shoots, he hits two or three targets with one shot!"
"Well, yes," Harry also admired. "If he succeeds, he will have a very profitable business on his hands. And, on top of that, he will earn a lot of points in the eyes of the public and the Ministry, giving work to those who desperately need it - and political advantage too!"
"And at the same time, he will finally be rehabilitated after his participation in the war ten years ago on the side of the Dark Lord ," the demon of Tzeentch chuckled. "Such business and political acumen is something! And his son is a match for him ," here Harry turned his attention to Draco, who was calmly sipping the offered tea with thyme and conducting further negotiations.
"Will the headmaster be okay with acromantulas?" Harry asked.
- Dumbledore is a great wizard! - Hagrid nodded importantly. - He will understand that if you approach the problem wisely, the Acromantulas will not threaten the school and other inhabitants of the forest. I have spoken with Aragog, - this phrase was intended for Malfoy. Harry frowned, not understanding who they were talking about. - For food and some kind of protection, he will provide wool, poison, and any surplus eggs they have. He is a smart spider, yes, - the forester sniffed. - He understands that if you let all the eggs hatch, soon there will be no room or food for all his children, yes.
"And so, everyone wins," Draco smiled.
"It's just…" Hagrid sniffled. "How is your father going to get so many cows?"
- And that's his business. The main thing for you, Mr. Hagrid, is to arrange everything in your direction, - Draco answered politely.
"Well, Aragog agrees… But Bane will be against it, it means," the half-giant frowned and stroked his thick beard. "Here, as I already said, we need something truly valuable for them."
"I'll tell my father," Malfoy nodded importantly, after which, politely thanking Hagrid for the tea, he stood up and headed for the exit.
"It was nice to see you, Hagrid!" Harry nodded in turn, also getting up from his chair.
- Oh, my! - the half-giant threw up his hands, smiling openly and waving his hand. - I'm glad too, Harry! See how strange it is... - he nodded awkwardly towards the door, apparently hinting at his dealings with the blond family. - All my life I thought that these Malfoys were all evil snakes, who considered others to be filth. But it turns out that it's not quite so...
"Hagrid is so naive after all ," Goodfella hummed sadly in Harry's head. "He's so easy to fool, so easy to use! Whether it's Dumbledore or the Malfoys: give him candy, surround him with sweet lies - and such a kind and innocent soul is plunged into the dirty deeds of schemers and businessmen with unclean intentions."
"On the other hand ," Sweetie drawled in a languid voice - he had always been languid lately, after the incident with the basilisk. "This forester would hardly have achieved such money and prospects in a different situation! So the Malfoys are a pure blessing for him!"
"They despise him and do not consider him their equal," Dobryak said condemningly. "But he sincerely believes them!"
"Well, I wouldn't say he trusts them all that much ," Smarty disagreed. "Hagrid is from Dumbledore's camp. He'll never be able to fully trust the slippery and treacherous former Death Eater."
"And yet he cooperates with him ," thought Slastyona. "And he hardly tells the director about it."
"Malfoy's right," Harry interjected. "Everyone can be approached. Benefit and threat, carrot and stick - anyone can be subdued. You just have to know how."
Meanwhile, they, Draco and his retinue trudged back to the castle gates.
"I didn't know you had it all so serious," Potter broke the silence as they were already walking towards the entrance to the main building.
"Father has highly praised the quality and quantity of unicorn wool that this half-breed obtains," Malfoy snorted with barely noticeable smugness. "And how many other different ingredients are there in the forest?" He raised his index finger, as if emphasizing the importance of his words. "Now only scattered gangs of poachers risk obtaining them - and they do it in completely barbaric ways, sometimes even ignoring the Statute of Secrecy! But imagine what would happen if we organized the extraction in a normal, legal way? It's a gold mine!"
"Here's another benefit for the Malfoys ," Smarty chuckled to Harry's delighted silence. "The lawmen and various officials from the Ministry will certainly appreciate this approach. Invading the territory of poaching gangs, disrupting their business and taking control of the supply of magical ingredients - for this, the Ministry will gladly give Lucius anything at all! Even the title of Great Light Wizard, after taking it away from the Headmaster."
"Why did you decide to involve me in this?" Potter asked, deciding not to directly touch on his relationship with Hagrid for now.
"Father said he would attract some outside investment," Draco shrugged. And Harry once again admired how educated and erudite twelve-year-old Malfoy was in rather adult matters. He glanced at Potter with a slightly sly look and continued: "Well, I wanted to offer him… Maybe you'll invest in this business too? Think about it yourself," Draco shook his head, not letting his interlocutor answer. "Your inheritance, as far as we know, is quite significant. And we could use some additional funding…"
"And my name is on the list of participants in this adventure?" Harry continued for him, looking mockingly at his interlocutor.
- Well... - Draco was still a little embarrassed. - If the Boy-Who-Lived takes part in such a significant event, everyone will see that it is really worth it. And that this project is really aimed at improving the situation of ordinary wizards...
"And also the fact that the famous Harry Potter cooperates with the Malfoys, as if additionally rehabilitating them ," the Smart Guy laughed enthusiastically. "And this is Draco's own idea! Incredible... for a small second-year student ," he snorted at the end.
"Are you saying I shouldn't be involved in this?" Harry chuckled ironically.
"Of course it is!" the Tzeentchite responded indignantly. "If there is an opportunity to get involved in an intrigue that promises wealth and power, then by all means do so! Just don't forget to turn it to your advantage later, to the surprise and chagrin of those who considered themselves the main intriguers," he chuckled.
Harry smiled widely too. Indeed! He wouldn't forgive himself if he missed out on such fun - his precocious mind demanded new challenges every day! Although, perhaps it was the euphoria of Slaanesh's influence that manifested itself in this way. Or both.
And considering the game he will soon begin to play within the walls of Hogwarts...
Potter was already rubbing his hands in advance. The further, the more interesting!
Moreover, Hermione has finally matured psychologically. The basilisk is ready to move at his command to any point in the castle. All that remains is to find a victim for it...
Harry frowned as he climbed up to Gryffindor Tower.
In fact, two victims were needed: one for the performance with the basilisk, which needed to be arranged to distract attention, and the second - for the ritual itself! And if Quinkie promised to help with the real victim, then with the first...
This was more difficult. But here too he had already prepared the ground…
A few days before Christmas 1992. The corridors of Hogwarts.
Ginny Weasley hid behind a column near the Great Hall and glared at the retreating group of girls with the Ravenclaw crest on their robes. They were mostly third-years, who were moving in a laughing crowd towards the stairs leading to the Blue House wing. Probably to start packing for the Hogwarts Express, which was leaving for London that very evening, taking those who were not planning to stay in the castle for the Christmas holidays.
Adjusting the bag hanging on her shoulder, the youngest Weasley looked around warily and, not noticing anyone, carefully followed.
"You're quite clever, Ginevra ," Tom was quick to praise her as she made short dashes around the Ravenclaws' path. "And you're learning quite quickly! Such progress in both magic and other skills - it's rare to see such abilities even in purebloods these days ," he flattered her.
Ginny smiled faintly - she liked the words of her mental interlocutor. As she liked them all the time of their conversation: since the last days of August, when she first spoke to Tom Riddle - that was how he introduced himself.
In fact, at first these "conversations" took place only on paper: through a strange black diary that somehow ended up in her bag after visiting Diagon Alley. Out of curiosity, she started writing in it and, suddenly, the diary answered her!
So, at first it was just correspondence. But even so, Ginny realized that she had finally found someone who understood and appreciated her. Appreciated her, perhaps, even more than her own family!
No, of course, her parents loved and cared for her! But in such a large family as theirs, this love and care were automatically divided into seven parts - and were perceived as somewhat... incomplete. And, besides, the girl subconsciously felt some condescension from both her mom and dad, and from her older brothers: for them, the girl's purpose was primarily as a future wife and mother. They simply did not see any other image in life, except for their own mother, Molly Weasley.
So all her talents in Quidditch, magical and ordinary subjects were perceived as some strange quirk, something insignificant, in a word, pampering. Molly once even let it slip that Ginny had nothing to do at Hogwarts after her fifth year - let her learn from her mother how to run a household and prepare for family life. After all, senior courses cost money - and their family budget was already bursting at the seams!
It happened just in August, before the ill-fated trip to Diagon Alley. Ginny was so angry then that she didn't even notice how she began pouring out her resentment into a strange black diary.
And he answered. After which a lively correspondence began with the diary's inhabitant: a boy named Thomas Marvolo Riddle.
At first it was amazing and really helped Ginny! Tom was wonderful, understanding and terribly charming. The youngest Weasley even thought that if she hadn't been in love with Harry Potter, she would have probably fallen in love with her invisible interlocutor.
But then... then things started getting weird.
Once, she was almost late for lights out and tried to cut through one of the secret passages that Fred and George showed her. And came face to face with Mrs. Norris! And, despite the fact that formally she did not break anything, Weasley froze in fear and, as a result, missed the moment when the necessary stairs moved to another position, forcing her to run around to the common room - and eventually run into the owner of the nasty cat, caretaker Filch!
The matter ended with a couple of points taken off by Snape, who was on duty that day, and detention with the same caretaker. But the offense... The girl's offense was for some reason directed specifically at the stupid cat!
It was then, on the eve of Halloween, that the first strange thing happened. Ginny remembered walking down the corridor of Hogwarts in the morning. And the next moment she woke up in her bed under a scarlet canopy, in a wet robe and with her hands stained with red paint!
But the strangest thing... The strangest thing is that from then on she didn't need to write in her diary to communicate with Tom.
In a kind of stupor, she realized that Tom, having independently decided that he needed to take revenge on the evil animal for the insult, decided to help her and made Ginny attack Mrs. Norris. And at the same time draw an ominous inscription about the heir of Slytherin and the Chamber of Secrets.
"It's a joke ," Tom tried to convince her after that. "But the way everyone started running around was just hilarious! And now ," he continued ingratiatingly, "you can punish those who interfere with you. Or those you like. "
Ginny herself did not understand how she began to spend a lot of time in the abandoned toilet on the third floor. She did not remember how she got there or what exactly she did there. Tom only hinted that there was a key place from where she could direct her Justice to those who the girl did not like.
The next to anger her was Colin Creevey. Not only did this annoying, stupid, and nosy classmate stick his nose into everything with his Muggle magic, but he also didn't understand the hints that it was time to stop! Worse, he was pestering the one person Ginny cared about most. Her beloved Harry Potter!
And so Creevey was "sent to home schooling," as a disgruntled McGonagall had announced. But Ginny knew that her Justice had gotten to him - and now the nasty mudblood lay paralyzed in the Hospital Wing!
The girl shuddered at the thought, covering her mouth with her hand in fear. She had just called a person - no matter how harmful - a word that began with "g"! A word that particularly narrow-minded wizards had tried to call the Weasleys themselves. A word that, according to her parents, was the worst curse word - and one that you should never call anyone, no matter how unpleasant that person was to you.
But Tom did not agree with this judgment.
"Mudblood... At one time, that was what they called those who couldn't behave decently in society. Dirty, gray-pawed offspring of a wizard... not the most worthy people ," he somehow corrected himself at the last moment. "Creevy has learned his lesson and will either correct himself or prove that this nickname is just right for him!"
That's when Ginny began to understand that something was wrong with this diary and Tom himself. But she could control little anymore!
And now, for several days now, she's been shaking with anger! Because Harry Potter - her beloved Harry Potter! - for some reason has been literally courting some Chinese Ravenclaw viper for a couple of weeks now! Who, moreover, is a year older than him. What's more: this narrow-eyed Cho Chang even dares to flirt back!
"A half-blood, and from the colonies at that ," Tom snorted at this, and this time the angry Ginny did not pull him back. "Are you really going to let her hit on your wonderful Harry so brazenly? Teach her a lesson!"
And Ginny Weasley, driven by emotions, lost control of her body again, giving way to the spirit of Tom Riddle, who would gladly try to hit the jackpot again in the form of the life and soul of another slob who dared to stick her nose into Hogwarts: it made no difference to him that Chang was a half-blood - he needed fresh blood! Especially since the first two attempts to force her own resurrection failed - and the body of a small first-year student was catastrophically insufficient for embodiment in reality.
But neither the half-formed Horcrux of the Dark Lord, nor even Ginny Weasley, noticed the barely noticeable ripple in the air in the niche they were running past. Harry Potter, standing there under his invisibility cloak, smiled wickedly.
Everything went according to his plan...
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