Summer 1993. England, Cokeworth.
The wonderful smell of coffee from the kitchen could be smelled even from the second floor. And it was on the second floor, on the old double bed, that Tonks woke up. Not yet fully breaking out of the world of dreams, she stretched sweetly and turned over on her side, trying to embrace... emptiness.
More precisely, she was trying to hug the one who had been lying on the other half of the bed. And who, judging by the smell of coffee, was already wide awake, busy in the kitchen.
Tonks' eyes widened, finally waking up. And then, realizing WHAT had happened between her and Snape last night, she pulled the edge of the blanket over her face with a quiet "ouch."
However, the momentary embarrassment passed rather quickly. Sniffling, Tonks chuckled smugly and threw back the covers, remaining completely naked. After listening slightly to what was happening behind the bedroom door and making sure that the owner of the house was still fussing downstairs, she tiptoed to the large old mirror and proudly examined her naked body.
Of course, it was the best! Of course, considering that Tonks could give any part of it a temporary form. However, yesterday, after she and Severus had such a great time in some Muggle pub and continued a little here, in his house on Spider's End, her drunken mind did not even think of using the metamorph abilities. So much the better: it meant that they slept with her not only because of this quality of hers!
Tonks shook her head and frowned. On the one hand, of course, one could say: goal achieved! Was it for nothing that she had been hitting on the unapproachable potion maker all this time? But she had imagined their first time together a little… different.
Like many teenagers, Tonks had experienced numerous "crushes" and "conflicts" in her time, inventing idols and heroes for herself, creating illusions about the people around her or, on the contrary, imagining God knows what horrors about them. But, unlike her peers, she had one s-i-i-l complex, born from the attitude of her classmates towards her metamorph ability.
Since her first year, she had been asked to "show something" — meaning to transform a face or limb into something at the request of the "customer." At first, it was even funny. Then it became annoying. And by her fifth year, she very rarely agreed to use metamorphism "for fun."
And despite the fact that even then she still had plenty of friends, especially in her native Hufflepuff, there was still a nasty little worm of uncertainty twitching at the edge of Tonks's consciousness. She constantly felt like people were continuing to communicate with her and be friends with her only because of her ability.
Perhaps she would have outgrown this complex over time, but it was not to be! After all, from the fourth to the seventh year, that is, starting from the age of fourteen, the time of those very first loves began for Hogwarts students. And the first relationships, of course!
Tonks had been trying to date guys since her fifth year. And every time it ended with her breaking up after another "can you look like Gemma Farley from Slytherin?" or something similar. In her sixth year, she was no longer in a hurry to start an affair — the previous year had been enough. And in her seventh year, she began preparing for T.R.I.T.O.N. and entering the Auror training school — and there was no time for stupidity at all.
Although, towards the end of her school years, she did allow herself to start dating again. But now, for variety and based on her previous negative experience, with a girl. But again - with the same result!
It was probably one of the most hurtful disappointments in a series of previous ones. She and Anna - that was the name of her last passion - even wanted to apply to Auror together!
And then, at the moment of physical intimacy, Anna gave the signature phrase of all Tonks' previous partners. The signature funeral phrase for any romance.
"Tonks, can you grow a dick?" Anna whispered with burning eyes, clinging to Nymphadora in one of the abandoned classrooms of the castle. At that moment, if Tonks had that very dick, it would have definitely fallen sadly.
In general, by the end of the seventh year, Tonks came completely free from any relationships, angry and disappointed with life. Which only spurred her to bite into the educational material on T.R.I.T.O.N. and Auror manuals.
As for Snape… She probably started looking at the gloomy and unsociable teacher in her last two years – right when she went to Advanced Potions, where she got in despite the surprise of her classmates. Not seriously looking, of course – but there was something exciting in considering in a romantic way an adult man twelve years older than herself. And, what's more, her school teacher.
At least, you certainly can't expect that childishly offensive "and turn into something" from him! It didn't fit with the serious and stern Snape in the least.
But when, six months after her graduation, Tonks met her former teacher again, the girl fell in love for real! Probably because now she was also, like, an adult, a full-grown and independent person. Or maybe because Snape suddenly opened up to his other side - not as formal as during her studies. Or all of this together - who cares now?
And so, as they say, not even a year had passed... and she managed to get Snape into bed!
Looking at herself in the mirror, Tonks drooped slightly and blushed.
"Well, here we go, a heartbreaker-temptress," she thought discontentedly. "Your entire sexual experience is a quickie in the school utility room! So with Snape it's unclear who seduced whom..."
Tonks shook her head violently, driving away the unwanted thoughts, causing the girl's hair to turn a furious scarlet color. She had wanted this herself - and she had achieved it! So what if it came out a little... crumpled? But it worked!
She went down to the first floor of the cottage wearing only panties and a stretched out T-shirt of an indeterminate color that had appeared out of nowhere in Snape's dresser. On her, the T-shirt looked like a short dress. Yeah, a shapeless sack dress - but she wasn't going to go out to breakfast in her top. Then she'd have to pull on jeans and everything else... After all, a weekend morning should be spent in comfort, not sitting at the table in outerwear!
The owner of the house only raised an eyebrow in his signature gesture and chuckled vaguely at the appearance of his guest. After which he returned to... the saucepan? Well, exactly: the saucepan. In which a black foaming liquid bubbled, emitting the smell of coffee. A stupid thought flashed through Tonks's head that with a high degree of probability this would turn out to be coffee.
"Good morning," the girl muttered in a voice slightly hoarse from sleep, plopping down at the table.
"Best wishes," Snape chuckled again, not rushing to add anything else.
Tonks noted to herself that Severus himself was again wearing all black. Casual pants, slippers, a tight-fitting T-shirt - all black. As usual.
"Breakfast will be a little later. Eggs, cheese, bacon, green peas," Snape commented as if nothing had happened. He stirred the coffee in the saucepan with one hand, and with the other he waved a cardboard bag from the cupboard at the other end of the kitchen using wandless magic. "Of course, 'to bed' won't work anymore," another chuckle. "And it's a bit of a pampering, if you think about it."
"Well, I wouldn't mind some breakfast in bed..." Tonks muttered, but in a way that her interlocutor couldn't hear. After the previous night, she didn't really know what to talk about now.
Snape himself, although he did not show it, was also in some internal emotional turmoil. No, of course, he was not the "virgin nerd" that the Marauders once considered him to be – and teased him about. So the sight of a half-dressed girl the morning after a wild night did not surprise or embarrass him.
But before, these were mostly random, one-time affairs. Non-committal sex, coffee in the morning, and parting with a pure soul. With complete confidence that they would never meet again and would not make any claims against each other in connection with what happened.
But in this case… everything was more complicated.
"Can I have some… milk?" Tonks asked a little timidly when she saw him taking the coffee pot off the stove.
"Before you ruin my coffee with milk," Snape said in his usual caustic manner, "perhaps you could try this first?"
Tonks glanced warily at him from under her brows, but nevertheless took the steaming cup into her hands.
"The sugar is here," he opened the sugar bowl on the table with a wave of his hand.
"Will sugar spoil your wonderful coffee?" the girl tried to copy his gesture and raised an eyebrow. She still remembered that he himself drank coffee without sugar. And black, like his devouring soul.
"No. This time it's not the right recipe," Severus said incomprehensibly.
Tonks frowned again, but still put two spoons of sugar into the cup before lifting it to her face.
The coffee smelled truly magical. The aroma of the drink itself was shaded by some spices that Snape had added to it. Taking a deep breath, the girl took the first sip.
"Mmm!..." was all she could moan.
The coffee was truly amazing. As expected from a genius potion maker, though. The slightest hint of flavor caressed the tongue, like a gentle lover caressing the body of his beloved - these were the very comparisons that were now creeping into Tonks's head. And they didn't embarrass her at all: the wonderful drink literally washed away all embarrassment and uncertainty.
"I'm glad you like it," Snape said mockingly at this time, looking at the pantomime that played out on the girl's face.
"It's… it's wonderful!" she blurted out a little belatedly and frowned under the potion maker's gaze. "And don't look at me like that."
- How?
"Like a teenager who decided she could seduce a grown man," she suddenly blurted out, not expecting it from herself.
There was a silence. During which they simply looked into each other's eyes, each as if deciding something for themselves. Finally, Severus chuckled again and, sighing tiredly, sank into a chair.
"Tonks, I'll be honest, your behavior yesterday, when you climbed onto my lap and kissed me while simultaneously putting your hands down my pants, was a bit unexpected," he said evenly. "But I'll tell you a secret," he leaned forward slightly, causing several strands of his black hair to fall over his forehead. "If I didn't want this, I would have stopped this process at any stage. But I didn't..."
- Excellent! - Without even listening to the end, Tonks happily jumped up and, going around the table, hugged Snape. After which she kissed him longingly on the lips. - Can I move in with you? - she asked again without any transition, moving away from her stunned partner and looking him in the eyes. - I saw your fireplace - it's a great way to get to work! I hate apparating, especially from a Muggle area.
- Move...? - the potion maker still hadn't come to his senses.
"Yeah, right," Tonks simply shrugged. Severus narrowed his eyes suspiciously, noticing the mocking glint in her eyes. "You didn't think you'd get rid of me that easily, did you?" she narrowed her eyes in turn.
"No," the man closed his eyes in resignation. "I didn't think so."
- Well, that's great! - she exclaimed even more cheerfully. - Instead of scheduling meetings every time, agreeing on the time and place - we can just meet in the same house every evening. How convenient!
"That's for sure," Severus thought distantly, removing the girl from his lap and standing up himself.
"Very well, Tonks," Snape said, hesitating slightly, looking down at her. "But in that case, I will ask that you adhere to a number of rules in my house."
He had more or less regained his composure. After all: what was the big deal? Just agreeing to move in with a former student twelve years younger than him, almost without persuasion, after sleeping with her on their first date. Which, by the way, he hadn't planned. Everyone does that, right?!
Shaking his head and grinning once again - but more at his own thoughts - Severus turned to the stove and began to eat breakfast. Not forgetting, however, what he had said earlier.
— First: do not touch anything in the basement laboratory without my knowledge!...
"You have an underground laboratory?!" Tonks' eyes widened in admiration.
" Basement , not underground," Snape emphasized. "There is a difference, you must admit. And I will continue, okay? From the point where you interrupted me."
"Oh! I'm sorry," the girl said, somehow deliberately and ostentatiously calming down.
- Second: don't walk around the area without my knowledge! This isn't the most prosperous area, and it's Muggle. We don't need any unnecessary attention.
"Oh, come on, hiding from the commoners is a piece of cake!..." Tonks began, but ran into Severus's gaze. "What?"
- From mundanes, perhaps. But from wizards? How are you going to explain to any of them what you regularly do in the house of a former Death Eater?
"Um…" Tonks couldn't answer this, she just thoughtfully ruffled the hair on the back of her head.
"And the third, which follows from the second," Snape turned his entire body towards the girl. "I kindly request that you do not tell anyone, ANYONE, about our… ahem, relationship. At least, without…"
"Yes, yes, without your knowledge," Tonks made a face. "I didn't know you were such a terrible possessive person, and also prone to total control!"
"The usual safety precautions for such… non-statutory relations," he chuckled sarcastically. "So, are the rules acceptable?"
- Yeah. Something like that, - the girl said thoughtfully. And then she pulled herself together and asked: - Well, will you show me the lab? With your knowledge , - she parodied her partner.
He only sighed sadly:
- I'll show you, Tonks. I'll show you.
Summer 1993. England, London, the Leaky Cauldron pub.
"And here's another signature, Mr. Potter," the goblin lawyer said in a creaky voice, pointing a hairy, clawed finger at another sheet of parchment laid out on the table in front of Harry. "Thank you. I hope both you and Mr. Malfoy are satisfied with the work of Grokkbolt and Partners?"
- Oh, yes, thank you very much, dear Grokkbolt! - the boy smiled sincerely, watching the goblin collect writing utensils and signed documents in his oversized suitcase.
"Remember: if you have any questions about the incident , insist that it was a natural disaster! It happens even to some adult wizards, let alone," here the goblin Grokkbolt glanced over his glasses at Potter's uncharacteristically well-proportioned figure for a teenager, "a thirteen-year-old schoolboy. Hmm.
"But wasn't that a blowout?" Harry squinted.
"Undoubtedly," the goblin nodded. "But don't forget: the public still remembers the war with You-Know-Who, and how many of his followers used... not the most humane spells. Including ones very similar in effect to what happened to your... ahem, relative."
Harry noticed that the goblin had replaced the term "Dark Arts" with "Inhumane Charms", but decided to think about that later.
- So Mr. Malfoy decided, and Minister Fudge agreed with him, that you could use some additional legal and media support. Who knows what people might think? - the lawyer raised his finger, as if emphasizing the importance of his words. - In principle, - Grokkbolt creaked, stopping already at the door, - if you had immediately contacted the Minister, or had waited for the duty team of Obliviators yesterday, you would not have needed my services. The Ministry would have simply hushed up the incident. But you managed to show up in the Night Knight and at the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, in the blood and entrails of Miss Dursley, - the goblin chuckled. - But that's just by the way. In the end, the situation was resolved to everyone's satisfaction ...
Harry just chuckled as he watched the door of the room he had rented close behind the lawyer. Of course, this goblin was damn "satisfied" with the situation – the Malfoys certainly hadn't skimped on paying for a lawyer for their business partner.
The boy chuckled and fell onto the wide bed with a sigh, mindlessly looking at the dark canopy lining. "Partner" was a very grandiose title for a schoolboy who didn't even have the right to manage his money properly. And whose formal guardian in the wizarding world was Headmaster Dumbledore himself. Which was both a problem and a stroke of luck!
A problem - because Harry desperately wanted to stay as far away from the powerful Light Wizard as possible. Considering his little "hobby", which was starting to go beyond the term "little" - even more so. But in order to use part of the money from his inheritance, more than the usual expenses for refreshments or school supplies, he needed the consent of Dumbledore!
At the end of the last school year, Draco and his father came to his aid. And Hagrid, interestingly enough. Although, on the contrary, it was expected! After all, the enterprise Harry was planning to invest in concerned the forester and his lands.
Harry's participation in that conversation was limited to a couple of minutes in the headmaster's office, when he clearly and distinctly told his magical guardian that he was genuinely interested in this matter, wanted to help unemployed wizards and invest money in a good cause. Dumbledore just looked at him strangely for a few moments - as if once again checking something for himself - and then simply and without fuss "gave the green light". Although Harry noticed how suspiciously the headmaster was looking at Lucius Malfoy, who was present at that.
Dumbledore's guardianship was a success because the headmaster was extremely busy . Constantly, with a variety of things and in a variety of directions! Considering only his official titles, like Chairman of the International Confederation of Wizards - a kind of Muggle equivalent of the UN Security Council speaker - it became clear that the word "busy" meant "no time for anything else"!
"A precisely dosed share of attention to each problem and each situation ," drawled Smart Guy. "On the one hand, it's an ideal distribution of effort, time, and resources. On the other..."
"If you misjudge a problem, you might not see it," Harry nodded in agreement, still lying on the bed. "Like what happened to Dumbledore with me."
"Exactly ," the Tzeentch chuckled. "He looks at the problem... but does not see it. Because he does not consider you the source of the problem in the first place."
"Or he thinks ," boomed Dobryak. "But not the one that actually exists."
"He obviously knows something about us ," said Smarty. "Not about us, but about Harry specifically. Something that makes him want to keep an eye on him, but not specifically."
"And this has nothing to do with the ritual that brought us here?" Sweet Tooth suddenly asked.
There was some kind of... awkward silence in Harry's head. Which Harry himself decided to break:
"Um... What kind of ritual is this? Is there something I don't know?" he asked in a tone that suggested he was trying to smooth over the awkwardness that had arisen.
"You see, Harry ," the Smarty began carefully. Too carefully and too carefully choosing his words, that's what Potter noticed, immediately perking up suspiciously. "Remember, we've talked more than once about you being the only initiated psyker in this world?"
"I remember," the boy answered, sitting up abruptly on the bed.
"Have you ever wondered ," continued Smarty, "why did this happen? A world closed to the warp – and then, suddenly, you appear! The first warp sorcerer in many centuries. What is the reason? What was the catalyst for such a… breakthrough?"
"And this was the ritual?" Harry narrowed his eyes.
"Your mother loved you very much, Harry ," Goodfella hummed sadly. "She wanted to protect you. And so she performed a ritual that called upon the Immaterium and broke through the defenses of this world. A ritual that connected its object to the Great Ether..."
"But you said that no one before me could touch the warp!" Potter exclaimed.
"Your mother didn't even touch him. But you did!" - Smarty giggled. "Lily Potter was an outstanding sorceress, since she was able to find and use such a charm. Although, what wouldn't a mother do for her child?" - he asked thoughtfully.
"But Dumbledore can't..." Harry swallowed. "Could he know about this ritual? Or..."
"...Or even be the one who suggested it to Lily? Unlikely. People like him wouldn't play with such powers," the Tzeentch chuckled. "And don't exaggerate Dumbledore's omniscience, student. He is truly a great wizard, possessing vast knowledge in various fields of magic, as well as remarkable intelligence and experience. But, nevertheless, he is by no means a god. At least, he does not possess the gift of prophecy. Otherwise, he would not have needed a personal prophetess."
"You mean Professor Trelawney?" Harry chuckled. He had seen the dragonfly-like teacher a couple of times when she made her way to the school kitchen to get herself a bottle of table wine. And he had heard plenty of Quincke's stories about her, of course, tinged with a slight fear of the incomprehensible woman who could foresee the future.
In fact, Trelawney, although clearly gifted, was not a full-fledged psyker. But she was a quiet alcoholic - very much so! Although Harry was in no hurry to blame her: even the distant echoes of the warp that Professor Trelawney could hear and see probably drove her crazy and scared the shit out of her - no wonder she started drinking, trying to drown them out.
"I don't know where your mother learned about the ritual, much less how she managed to carry it out, but Dumbledore doesn't know the details. Otherwise, we would have had problems by now ," said Smarty.
"Find out exactly what Lily Potter did , old man," Ruffnut suddenly growled, "and he will destroy you! No matter how much knowledge of the Immaterium was lost among wizards, they crushed the goblins and their Blargolag without mercy!"
"So we need to make sure he doesn't find out," Sweet Tooth said lazily.
"We are putting all our efforts into this, aren't we?" Smarty asked everyone at once. "The fifth and sixth years of school will be a turning point in our calculations. What will happen there, and whether it will happen at all, is still unclear. It may be that Dumbledore will reveal the secret of the ritual. But by then we will be ready!"
That was the end of the conversation about the ritual. But Harry still made a note to himself that the spirits-advisers continued to keep silent about some things. Even if they were not critical... for now.
"Mordred! There'll probably be talk around school about what happened to Marge," he grimaced, remembering the reason for his sudden move to the wizarding pub.
And indeed: he left too many witnesses. And no, it was not the Dursleys! The passengers of the wizarding Knight Bus that night, to their amazement, had the honor of seeing the celebrity of wizarding Britain, the Boy Who Lived, in a very unpresentable state. Namely, bloodied, covered in human entrails and with an absolutely empty look.
The latter, of course, was easy to explain: Harry was at that time mentally discussing with his inner voices what he should do now? But from the outside it looked especially creepy.
The Leaky Cauldron was also crowded when he stumbled in. Luckily, a squad of Aurors and — drum roll — the Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge himself were already waiting for him! They immediately took the boy into custody, rented him a room and dispersed the onlookers. Well, and then Lucius Malfoy, who somehow learned about the situation, intervened, sending a hired goblin lawyer.
"By the way, regarding "Dumbledore is always busy". This time, it seems, he finally found time for us ," Sweet Tooth sang, either tensely or mockingly, making Potter once again become wary and tense.
Focusing on the warp currents, he shuddered: on the first floor of the pub, right by the stairs, he could indeed feel the glow of a powerful consciousness. A very familiar, bright and clear mind - namely, Albus Dumbledore himself. The consciousness of Minister Fudge, who was also there, was somewhat lost against the background of the presence of the Great Light Wizard.
"What does he want?" Harry began to panic slightly, immediately remembering the conversation that had just taken place and their suspicions about the director's knowledge.
"Calm down, student!" Smarty snapped at his charge. "Dumbledore is unlikely to have come to harm us - we've already discussed this. And even if he decides to do so - he certainly won't do it in a public place with witnesses, like this pub. Calm down!"
"Most likely, he just decided to visit his ward. After such a "shock" - this is definitely relevant ," giggled Slastena.
Harry shook his head and pursed his lips in irritation: the moment of fear had not been very pleasant. But now, having collected his thoughts, he nevertheless accepted the arguments of his companions: indeed, he was hardly in danger now. Only...
"But what are they and Fudge discussing for so long?" he suddenly asked, approaching the door.
"Who knows what two prominent British politicians might discuss behind the scenes?" the Slaaneshi snorted as they walked out into the corridor.
"In the middle of the stairs of a public pub, you mean," Smarty commented mockingly.
Harry no longer paid attention to the voices in his head: using his mutated hearing, he tried to hear the muffled conversation between the headmaster and the minister.
- ...you did the right thing! We don't need any scandals, Dumbledore, not on the eve of the events you know about! - Fudge's slightly irritated voice rang out - Potter already knew him.
"Cornelius, I'm not arguing with you," the headmaster sighed in response. He, like Fudge himself, lowered his voice a little, obviously counting on the fact that they couldn't be heard from the first floor, and there was no one in the corridor on the second. The headmaster simply didn't know that Harry had abnormally sensitive hearing. "You did the right thing and farsightedly, presenting this unpleasant incident as an ordinary magical emission and presenting everything from the right side. But I'm wary of Malfoy's involvement in this matter..."
"Albus," the Minister replied, his voice no longer 'slightly' irritated. "Leave these old ideological prejudices of yours alone! Lucius Malfoy is a perfectly respectable member of society, a respected and authoritative person. And, to be honest, lately I'm more concerned not with his supposed past crimes, but with the unhealthy attention to him and his family from various… um, elements. Are you saying that this isn't your doing?"
"Cornelius, I am not accusing Mr. Malfoy of anything," Harry could almost hear a mocking chuckle in this phrase - it sounded so sarcastic. "I am simply reminding you that Lucius is, first and foremost, a businessman. Was it wise to allow him to be so zealously involved in the fate of Harry Potter? Will he not have some kind of... influence on the boy?" The headmaster carefully omitted the word "negative", but it was simply suggested in his phrase.
"Not at all," Fudge answered tensely, not considering it necessary to hide his negative attitude towards his interlocutor's opinion. "Moreover, Albus, Malfoy has a lot of friends and relatives on the continent – and this is already a serious argument in favor of involving him. You yourself have been buzzing my ears about the Tournament next year – and yet Beauxbatons and Durmstrang have not yet fully expressed their "yes" to this idea! The WMC already wants to take the Quidditch World Cup away from us – and if we also announce the Triwizard Tournament in the same year, oh-oh…"
"The Triwizard Tournament?" Harry frowned slightly. "I'll have to look it up."
"Wow! The Quidditch World Cup!" Sweet Tooth heard what he wanted to hear. "We simply must get there! It must be a spectacular spectacle..."
Meanwhile, the conversation between the Hogwarts director and the Minister of Magic continued.
- ...The situation with Black is under control! - the minister hissed.
"But he still hasn't been caught," Harry could have sworn at this phrase that the headmaster also gave his trademark look over his half-moon glasses. "Perhaps it's worth..."
"No!" Fudge snapped. "I will not allow any... informal structures," he spat out like a curse, "to take over the functions of law enforcement!"
- It is already becoming clear that the Ministry will not catch Black - and you know it better than I do, Cornelius! - Dumbledore raised his voice slightly. - More precisely, in the end, you may catch him, - he chuckled. - But at what cost? The reputational costs of his escape have already exceeded all possible limits: just think of those same talks in the MCM about taking the Championship away from us. And Black can still do some serious things - for example, get to Harry Potter!
"Nonsense," Fudge grimaced. "Why would he need a boy, even if he was indirectly responsible for You-Know-Who's downfall?"
"Sirius Black was never a man of balance. Like all Blacks," Dumbledore said, as if explaining the obvious to a small child. "And so many years in Azkaban, surrounded by dementors, have practically undermined his health, including his mental health. So he may well decide that Harry Potter is to blame for all his troubles - and come for him."
"Where?" snorted the Minister. "To that nondescript Muggle town where you hid him, Albus? Here, to the Auror-filled Leaky Cauldron? Or even worse: to Hogwarts? Don't make me laugh!"
"He once blew up an entire Muggle street," the director reminded him. "And he certainly won't have any trouble finding an 'inconspicuous' Muggle town!"
Fudge snorted angrily for a moment, trying to come up with a decent response. Then he simply said through gritted teeth:
— Everything. Under. Control!
Dumbledore merely shook his head at this: Harry practically saw this gesture in real life.
"Emergency situations call for extraordinary measures, Cornelius. And you'll have to involve every force you can get your hands on in capturing Black."
"And do not doubt, Albus, I will call upon these forces!" the Minister hissed in response. "Oh, rest assured, I have someone better than your personal army of criminals!"
"Cornelius!" Dumbledore said, slightly threateningly.
"We are not going to argue with you again about the status of illegal gangs, Albus!" the minister snapped. "Especially since that is not why we came here, right?"
Harry pulled back from the door, realizing that Fudge had cut off the conversation and was quickly heading up the stairs.
"Harry, my boy!" the minister exclaimed, putting on a mask of cordiality, when he crossed the threshold of the room after being allowed to enter. Potter chuckled to himself: such an address was more typical of Dumbledore, but, apparently, it infected the minister as well. "I see you've settled in here quite well already?"
"Thank you, Mr. Fudge," Harry nodded back with a smile. "Professor," another nod towards the headmaster.
"Hello, Harry," the old man smiled kindly, entering the room in turn.
"Okay then," Fudge smiled softly in turn and gave Harry a little hug. "How are you, Harry? Are you holding up?"
"Thank you for your concern, Minister," the boy said, putting on a slightly forced expression. "I'm trying."
- Oh well! - Fudge pulled away, smiling encouragingly. - The main thing to remember, Harry: these things happen. And considering that your aunt, as I understand it, was not the most pleasant person to talk to... - Dumbledore frowned disapprovingly at this phrase. - Anyway, don't worry about it, - the Minister winked. - The incident is over, we've taken care of everything. Go to school and don't worry about anything!
After saying a couple more encouraging phrases, Fudge said goodbye somewhat crumpledly and left, leaving Harry alone with the headmaster.
"Harry," Dumbledore said, looking at Potter over his half-moon glasses. "I'm truly sorry you had to go through something like that. Magic emissions sometimes have unpleasant… consequences. It happens. Rarely, but it does happen," the headmaster frowned slightly.
"I'm fine, Professor," Harry said again, looking downcast. There was a slight pricking in his head, and a fleeting pressure passed through his mental shields—Albus Dumbledore was testing the boy's defenses once again. Fleetingly and obviously just for the sake of it—but he was testing them. "I… was scared at first and… didn't think very clearly," he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "But I've come to my senses now."
"I'm glad if that's the case," the headmaster smiled again and sat down on a chair standing by the bed. "Tell me, my boy," Dumbledore said, looking into Harry's eyes without any Legilimency, "did you feel anything when it all happened?"
"He knows?!" - Dobryak's voice flared with fear inside. He was echoed by the cry of Sweet Tooth and the restless grumbling of Bully. Only Smarty maintained a mysterious silence.
"Felt it, Professor?" Harry asked, as if nothing had happened, looking at Dumbledore with almost genuine bewilderment. He tried to shut out the hubbub in his head, but he himself suddenly realized that he was covered in a cold sweat. They had just been discussing the possibility that the Headmaster knew something, and...!
"I know what it's like," the old man shook his head. "Anger and resentment at some point overflow the cup of patience and spill out. A moment, a flash… and you realize that someone has suffered at your hand."
"Yes, Professor," Harry said timidly, looking down. "Yes... that's how it was. Marge started insulting my parents again," he said sullenly. "She said nasty things... about my mother."
"Of course she was wrong," Dumbledore said earnestly, tilting his head forward slightly. "People often like to say bad things about others - it's their nature. But these are just words," he raised a finger admonishingly. "Do you know the difference between a responsible person and an IRRESPONSIBLE one?" the Headmaster asked suddenly.
"Um… and in what?" was all Harry could ask in response.
- It may sound trite, but a responsible person is ready to answer for his actions. And for how he uses his power against those who are deprived of this power. Do you understand, my boy?
The look over his half-glasses was positively benevolent and all-remembering. Harry relaxed a little. It seemed that Dumbledore was still not aware of some… peculiarities of the Boy-Who-Lived. He just wanted to make sure that the thirteen-year-old wizard, who had practically got away with killing his hated aunt, would not go and administer "justice" with all the ardor of a teenager. That's all.
"I understand, sir," Potter nodded convulsively. "I... it was terrible!" he sobbed quite naturally. "I just thought something like 'I wish Marge would explode' - and she did! I didn't mean to!..."
"It's okay," Dumbledore nodded. "The main thing to remember is that magic isn't just fun and tricks. It's a big responsibility. And I hope that from this accident ," he emphasized the word slightly, "you will learn a lesson, my boy. A lesson that you must always and in everything control yourself and not let anger rule you."
"Of course, professor," the boy nodded in response.
Dumbledore rose from his chair.
- And one more thing, Harry, - he was in no hurry to leave. - You know that a dangerous criminal recently escaped from Azkaban prison. Voldemort's henchman, Sirius Black.
"Yes, sir. It was even on the Muggle news," Harry said.
"So you know what danger you're in?" the director glanced at him.
"Danger?" Potter raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Black is one of the Dark Lord's most insane followers, Harry," the old man said earnestly. "And you are the reason for the Lord's downfall."
"He…" the boy swallowed nervously and blinked several times. "Will he want to take revenge on me?"
"Who knows?" Dumbledore said vaguely, already approaching the door. "In any case, can I make you promise one thing?" he turned back to Harry, supposedly "at the last moment."
- Anything you like, sir! - another nod.
"Promise me: no matter what you find out about Black, no matter how angry you are, you will not seek to meet him yourself," the director said crisply and looked demandingly at Potter.
"He's afraid ," exclaimed the Smart Guy, as if he had finally understood something. "He's afraid that you, Harry, having learned something about Black, will rush to look for him. To question him? To kill him? To take revenge? But for what? A riddle!" The demon's further words turned into a half-intelligible muttering. Tzeentch was clearly again carried away by another riddle.
"We mustn't make that promise!" roared Ruffnut. "And if Black has to be killed?! He's done something - something punishable by death! No wonder the old man of Mordred started this conversation after Marge died! He's afraid you'll go for revenge!"
"There is no choice," Harry snapped back dejectedly, looking into Dumbledore's demanding eyes.
"There is always a choice ," Smart Guy suddenly emerged from his thoughts. "Even if you were eaten, you have at least two options. Especially since you don't have to look for Black yourself. After all, is there someone to entrust this to?"
Harry mentally slapped his forehead with his palm, closed his eyes for a moment and spoke clearly:
"I swear, Professor, that I won't look for Black myself, no matter what… no matter what I find out about him," he sniffed at the end.
"Okay," the director nodded at the end and, having said goodbye, left the room. Leaving Harry with another considerable portion of food for thought.
September 1, 1993. Hogwarts Express.
"Hello, Hermione," Harry gently hugged the girl and kissed her on the cheek. At the same time, causing a hot blush to appear on her face.
"H… hello, Harry," it was clear that the boy's outburst had thrown her off-balance. But, quickly coming to her senses, Granger slipped into the compartment and settled down on one of the benches.
"I was thinking of getting into the next compartment, away from the toilet. But our new DADA teacher is already asleep there," Harry snorted, looking at his friend's changing expression.
"Hm," Hermione said vaguely, but didn't elaborate. Several versions of how Harry had managed to determine the status of the occupant of the neighboring compartment flashed through her mind. She wasn't particularly interested.
"You wrote that you had... problems with your parents," the boy twirled his eyebrows, signaling that it was possible to talk about such things almost freely - but still not without caution. Granger clenched her teeth, but still answered:
"Yes. I…" She closed her eyes for a second, as if gathering her courage, but then blurted out: "I seem to have completely subjugated them to my will!"
Harry was silent for a couple of seconds, waiting for him to continue.
"Well… That's probably not bad?" he raised his eyebrows.
"I suppose," Hermione shrugged. "They don't cause any trouble any more, or get in the way, or get in the way when you need to do something… weird. But, Harry," she glanced up at her friend. "They… they've become… mechanical. Like they're not people, but puppets, dolls on strings!" she threw up her hands. "And I don't know how to turn it off!"
Harry frowned. It wasn't that he saw a problem with it, in fact, he wouldn't mind learning that trick from Hermione himself. But his friend was clearly extremely upset and discouraged by the state of her parents - which meant that something definitely needed to be done about it. Not right now, of course.
"Hermione," Harry said earnestly, gently lifting her face by the chin. "Everything will be fine. Tell me in detail what this means and we will find a solution together."
After half an hour of explanations and consultations with Smarty, Harry leaned back on the bench and thought.
There was a lot to think about when he arrived at school. His cults in South Helens needed guidance and direction. Fortunately, people like Andy Tetchfield, Megan Cornhill and Lord took some of the responsibility for this, but not all! He could not yet communicate with Snot through the warp - and it was unlikely that Megan would be delighted with communication via Nurgling.
No. We'll have to use messengers. That is, our own slaves!
On the one hand, what was there to think about: instruct Quinkie and go! But the elf was still part of the Hogwarts community, and could not leave the castle for long. Dobby, after his "improvement," was somewhat… limited in the range of tasks he could be assigned. Ronki, on the other hand…
Harry grinned. Ronki the Elf, whose soul and body had been dedicated to Tzeentch by Hermione, was currently a bit "out of his mind." And also not in Hogwarts. To be more precise, he had turned into a full-fledged Chaos Spawn and was currently terrorizing the inhabitants of the darkest corners of the Forbidden Forest.
Theoretically, of course, he himself or Granger could have subdued this creature and used it for their own purposes... But certainly not as a messenger to the Muggles. Or a messenger at all. Ronki was now generally only suitable for combat purposes - it was better not to entrust more delicate matters to the Spawn.
There was a lot to think about, in general. As well as the numerous ideas and experiments he had been thinking about since before Hogwarts.
There will be a place in the series of these plans for Hermione's parents. Healing or final enslavement, improvement or elimination of unnecessary evidence - it was necessary to look in more detail.
And there were new factors that were clearly capable of diversifying his school life this year. Sirius Black, for example: a dark wizard, a servant of the Dark Lord, who could presumably hunt Harry. The boy grinned: how could it happen that the hunter would turn into the hunted! He planned to capture Black and squeeze the truth out of him - whatever it was. No wonder Dumbledore was so worried that they might run into each other and Harry would learn something "wrong"?
And yet... there was another wizard. Unlike Sirius Black, who was much closer to Potter. But at the same time, he was of great interest to a warp sorcerer learning about the magical world!
Professor Remus Lupin. New Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Werewolf.
And yes: Harry Potter did not figure out his true nature with the help of his abilities. More precisely, through them he was surprised to discover some anomalies in the soul of the wizard riding in the neighboring compartment - which had yet to be studied. But the signs of a werewolf described in many library books, including in the Forbidden Section, were already much more informative.
Harry James Potter smiled contentedly. He was already starting to get a little irritated by all these worries in wonderful, beloved, but still boring South Helens. In the end, he had started the flywheel of creating the cults of the Gods - now let it spin on its own. At least until the Christmas holidays! For now, he had a whole bunch of secrets and mysteries that he planned to immerse himself in.
Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Hermione's parents, the Mirror of Erised - all of that and probably more. Surely the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen of Chaos, couldn't possibly have a smooth year?
It was at that moment, as he thought about it, that the Hogwarts Express began to slow down. After a few jerks, it finally stopped. In the middle of a night field, judging by the landscape visible through the fog outside the window.
"What happened?" Malfoy's voice exclaimed in fear a couple of compartments away. Someone else shouted something, but Harry and Hermione were no longer listening. They exchanged glances, simultaneously plunged their consciousness into the warp and began to sort through the probability lines, trying to understand what was happening and what the threat was.
It was as if Harry had been doused with cold water - he hadn't experienced such a chilly and eerie feeling for a long time!
"Do you feel it?" Hermione asked him with wide eyes, clutching the boy's hand. He only nodded sullenly, looking at the compartment window. Which was slowly beginning to be covered with real frost!
"Whatever it is," he gulped as the electric light in the corridor flickered and went out. "Or whoever it is, we're not going to like them very much!" Harry exclaimed.
The light in the compartment also flickered and went out. And almost immediately the lock on the door clicked, letting in… something.
Harry felt the hair on his head begin to move. And no, it wasn't from the appearance of the creepy alien. And not from the cold that he exuded.
And from what the boy understood: he suddenly stopped hearing and feeling the warp! The creature that entered seemed to kill his consciousness, cutting him off from the very essence of the Universe, from Life, from the Ocean of Souls!
A terrible pain shot through the boy's head and he rolled his eyes and fainted. Out of the corner of his eye he only noticed Hermione fall down next to him.
From the door, the Void itself looked at them...
More chapters on my P@treon: https://patreon.com/OOOTEN