September 1993. Hogwarts.
The corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were quite an ominous sight at night. The torchlight did not provide enough light to illuminate all the passages, but rather added a mystical eeriness to the surroundings. The creaking of living armor, the sighs of portraits, rustling in the corners - these sounds could make almost anyone shudder, be it a snotty first-year student or an adult teacher.
Although, is it worth fooling yourself? Hogwarts students, regardless of their year or era, had such long awls in their butts that no night horror could discourage them from walking at night. Of course, in some superstitious Middle Ages, students, especially those who came from the Muggle world, were still afraid and wary of night walks, but the current generation, raised on the media, Stephen King novels and television, were not particularly imbued with the mysterious atmosphere of the old castle, and therefore did not deny themselves night promenades.
However, for some time now, there have been far fewer lovers of wandering around at night. And no, this cooling off towards midnight adventures did not begin now, with the arrival of the Azkaban Dementors to the school, but much earlier - during the epic with the Chamber of Secrets last year. The horror of Slytherin, prowling the school corridors and attacking students, managed to do what many generations of teachers could not achieve - discouraged students from walking after lights out.
The only exception, then and now, were the irrepressible Weasley twins - they were the ones who no Horrors or Dementors could stop from their pranks and tricks! Although even they, starting somewhere in the autumn of last 1992, began to sense something very, very bad in their native school. Of course, the two red-haired rascals would never admit to anyone that something was scaring them, not at all! And they themselves tried to write it off to the general nervous atmosphere that reigned in Hogwarts at that time. But every now and then the twins would exchange glances, as if mentally exchanging anxious thoughts! However, they never discussed anything like that out loud, even among themselves.
The fact that the ominous atmosphere continued with the start of the new school year also didn't surprise anyone - the Dementors hovering over Hoglake and the Forbidden Forest were quite the horror! They didn't dare approach the castle and the surrounding area, but the very fact of their presence already spoiled the mood and put even the cheerful Weasleys in a minor mood.
Be that as it may, there were no students in this particular part of Hogwarts that night, not even the Gryffindor twins. And it's true: these weren't the abandoned classrooms in the far wing, or the sinister dungeons that stretched many floors below the Slytherin common rooms and many miles away from the castle. What could possibly be interesting in a relatively small storage room under the very ceiling of one of the castle's small towers, filled with old and largely broken furniture? Nothing.
In addition, only house elves could get in here. And this was not only due to their ability to apparate inside the castle - the passage was simply so littered with all sorts of junk that only a puny elf could squeeze in, but not a schoolchild and certainly not an adult wizard!
So it is not surprising that the company gathered in this pantry consisted of house elves. What was surprising was the fact that the elves, who were not busy with their duties, had gathered somewhere other than the kitchen or their closets. And in the dead of night, which they damn well did not like - because it was the time of all sorts of evil spirits and undead, including the castle ghosts, who frightened the house elves to the point of trembling!
There were a little less than ten elves. All of them, as if picked, young, of both sexes - they seemed to be waiting for someone, crowded around a wide object covered with a thick curtain, apparently a floor mirror. Of course, they were not silent, whispering to each other and occasionally waving their hands. However, not all of them: a couple of them stood to the side and looked around.
These two were named Donki and Rinki, and neither of them had yet been particularly well received at this gathering. And while Rinki had already been hanging around with some of the elves who had come to the storeroom that night, Donki was looking around sullenly, trying to figure out where his friend had dragged him.
To be honest, Donkey, despite his youth, was known in the Hogwarts community as a very sensible house elf. It happened that even the old people listened to his opinion - and according to the patriarchal concepts of house elves, this was an unprecedented vote of trust! That is why he looked at the elves gathered by Quinkie with a fair amount of caution.
Yes, yes! It was the young beauty Quinky, whom he had considered as his possible bride just a year ago, who was the leader of this company. How, why and what kind of a gathering of people with the same interests was this - Donki did not know. And when he tried to draw the attention of the older elves to the girl's strange behavior, they just waved it off: although the young house-elf was respected by his peers and pleased the elders, this did not mean that the latter could be bothered with every little thing!
So he was interested in the strange company, as wizards say, in a private capacity. From the outside it might seem as if he was interested in Quinca herself - and it must be said that most of the elves in their community still considered themselves to be a great couple. He himself, after the failure in the conversation with the elders, was in no hurry to dissuade anyone, deciding to first find evidence of the strange behavior of the girl and her entourage.
Rinki, unlike his serious friend, was not in the best standing with the community leaders: frivolous, talkative, sometimes absent-minded - not the qualities you expect from a good house elf. But, unlike the taciturn and thorough Donki, he was very easy to contact with others, and therefore easily communicated with both his fellow elves and with students - and they say that with a couple of teachers! It is not surprising that it was Rinki of the two who was able to quickly communicate with Quinki's company and even agree to invite them to the next meeting.
Donkey had noticed Quinky's rather suspicious, if not reprehensible, behavior a couple of times before. Just look at her cautious, but no less outrageous questions about the magic books a couple of years ago - what a thing, a house elf being interested in human magic! And although he didn't have any ironclad proof, the young house elf still strongly suspected the elf that she had actually gotten the books and even read them.
But he didn't report it, although the elders would have listened to that and would have exposed the offender! At that time he still thought that he would seriously propose to Quinkie, and after marriage she would throw such dangerous nonsense out of her head.
He didn't propose. And she couldn't get the seditious thoughts out of her head. But it was too late to inform on her: the girl suddenly began to hide much more skillfully, and therefore Donka would hardly have been able to prove anything. And so there was only one way out: to penetrate the strange gathering of his former prospective bride and find out everything first-hand! This is where his friend Rinka's talent for insinuating himself into any company without oil and soap came in handy.
Meanwhile, the whispers from different parts of the attic ceased and everyone present - including the two new arrivals - stared at the two more house elves who had stood between them and the mirror covered by the curtain. One of the new arrivals was Quinky.
"Quinky is delighted to see so many good and worthy Hogwarts house-elves here!" she proclaimed joyfully, but not too loudly. "And welcomes into our ranks two new good elves who have decided to reject the lies that our oppressors and the deluded old men who serve them feed us!"
The people present turned to the gloomy Donkey and the stupidly blinking Rinky, smiled and nodded amiably, greeting them. Donkey himself only frowned even more: it became clear that his suspicions were beginning to be confirmed.
Meanwhile, Quinky raised her hand above her head with the book clutched in it. And it would have been extremely solemn if it weren't for the stamp of the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library on its end – the impudent violator had clearly stolen a magical textbook!
"Here is the harbinger of the Broken Chains, the Book of Liberation!" Quinkie proclaimed in a strangely vibrant voice. "Here is written the truth that the evil sorcerer-enslavers hide from the elven people! The truth about how the human race enslaved our ancestors, shackled them and made them forget about Freedom!"
To Donka's amazement, the elves around him - including, by the way, Rinka - listened to this heresy with interest and delight in their eyes. Because for any normal house-elf, what she was saying was precisely heresy!
- The ancient Treaty is written here and the Debt that once hung over the house elves is fully described. Yes, that's right! - Quinkie exclaimed in the meantime, shaking the book and her eyes sparkling triumphantly. - That Debt that makes the elves work tirelessly for the nasty wizards - was paid hundreds of years ago! There is no such Debt, only deception and lies of people - so says the Book of Liberation!...
— Квинки говорит ужасные вещи! — воскликнул, наконец, Донки, не выдержав тех восхищенных взглядов, что кидали присутствующие на несущую еретические речи эльфийку. — Квинки — плохой эльф! Хорошие домовики трудятся и благодарят волшебников за каждый день и каждый час, что имеют возможность приносить пользу! Праздный эльф, не служащий волшебникам — это плохой эльф! Как Квинки может говорить, что это не так?! — в совершенно раздраенных чувствах воскликнул домовик.
To be honest, Donkey planned to observe a little longer, gather evidence of sedition, and then slip away to report to the elders. But he couldn't stand it from indignation and snapped.
"Silly Donkey," Quinky said unexpectedly softly, shaking her head. "Think about it! Mossy old men have been hammering into the heads of all house elves since childhood that we are obliged to serve wizards. But why is that? Why is there a Duty, but no one explains what it is? There are questions, but no answers? There is work, but no reward…"
"Quinky wants to get a reward for his work?!" Donkey babbled, completely shocked, involuntarily taking a step back. He was so amazed that he did not notice how the elves standing next to him, grinning angrily, surrounded him, ready to grab him at the first word of their leader.
"Every service must be rewarded," Quinkie smiled again. "We are good elves!" she lifted her chin. "We do not refuse to serve - but we want this service to be paid for properly!"
"Quinky can't demand... wages," Donkey spat out the last word like a vile curse. "The Hogwarts elves have sworn an oath to the school and its students - they can't demand a reward until they are freed!"
"Who said that we weren't freed?" Quinky almost sang and softly approached her interlocutor. The dumbfounded Donkey watched as the girl's fingers slid to the ties of the uniform pillowcase at her neck, unraveled them - after which the piece of white fabric fell to the floor, leaving Quinky completely naked!...
Not completely. On the elf's hips, as if teasing the imagination, were cute white panties - apparently, the size of a small human girl. Donkey, shocked by Quinky's rapid undressing, "floated" for a moment - after all, by the standards of house elves, the girl was damn good. But then it dawned on him WHAT exactly he saw!
"These are clothes… who gave Quinky clothes?" Donkey squeezed out, tearing himself away from the sight of the girl's charms and looking into Quinky's eyes.
"And not only Quinky," a voice suddenly rang out from the shadows near the curtained mirror. Startled, the young elf looked in that direction and was even more stunned. Because one of the Hogwarts students stood before him!
- Mister Harry Potter, sir! - the house elves began to chatter enthusiastically, forgetting about Donkey. Bowing to those present with a smile, the young wizard again turned his attention to the dumbfounded elf staring at him. - And you, Donkey, don't you want to be free?
Donkey looked around, hunted: his rebellious relatives surrounded him from all sides - he only had to raise his hand to apparate, and they would twist him. Only then did he notice some oddities in the elves standing nearby: someone's pillowcase was slightly bulging on the chest, as if something had been tucked under it, someone was adjusting something in the hip area - they were all hiding their clothes under the fabric!
"Rinky…" he glanced hopefully at his friend who had come with him, but then Quinky spoke again:
"Rinki, come to Mr. Harry Potter!" she proclaimed, and the one whom Donki had considered his friend until now, stepped towards the curtained mirror.
"As our dear Quinkie rightly said," the wizard said, smiling slightly mockingly, "any service must be rewarded. You, Rinki, have earned the highest reward: freedom!" he exclaimed.
It turned out that there was another girl wizard standing slightly behind Potter, whose face Donkey couldn't see. She handed Harry some object, and he, in turn, raised it over the head of the recipient with his arms outstretched.
- From now on, Rinki, you are free! - the boy proclaimed, flashing his glasses and solemnly handing the elf the item he had received from his companion - a thin white T-shirt with straps. And Rinki - just recently a frivolous, but quite normal elf - bowed and accepted this cursed gift from the wizard's hands. Becoming free. And losing what made up the meaning of life for most elves: honor and conscience!
Taking a step to the side, Rinki stood in the ranks of the renegade house-elves that had gathered around Donki, thus giving the two wizards a view of their former friend.
"Traitor," Donkey gritted his teeth, looking furiously at the elf who came with him.
- Come on, Donkey! - Harry Potter spoke again, smiling, coming closer to the surrounded house-elf. - Nothing terrible is happening - just the liberation of intelligent beings from undeserved slavery. After all, slavery is sheer barbarity, don't you think?
"Good elves must work and must not demand a reward!" Donkey almost groaned, pressing his ears to his head. There was nowhere to retreat - the bad elves had closed ranks around him, leaving no room for maneuver. "Duty demands it! Work is the best reward! Idleness is heresy!...
- So that's how it is... - young Potter seemed slightly surprised by the last phrase. But he quickly recovered. - But perhaps it's just from ignorance? How can you know that you won't like freedom if you've never been free? Maybe it's worth a try? - he smiled slyly again. - Look what I have for you!
For a moment, Donki thought that the young wizard's eyes flashed with some strange crimson-green light. He looked around at those around him in bewilderment and realized that they had not seen it. And only at the very last moment did he realize the third-year student's last phrase and the fact that he was holding out something.
"N-no!" he squealed in horror, realizing that Mister Harry Potter was handing him... a knitted hat. "No, Donkey is a good elf! Donkey won't take that!"
"Are you sure?" the boy raised his eyebrows in mock disappointment, and then slowly began to straighten up. "Well, if not, then no..."
And then, when Donkey had already exhaled and relaxed, one of the renegades pushed him hard in the back. The disoriented house-elf flew to the floor, senselessly waving his arms in an attempt to grab onto something and slow his fall, and he almost succeeded…
In the end, he still fell. And only a few moments later, he stared in horror at what he had grabbed and what remained in his hands - the very same woolen hat that Harry Potter had offered him.
- Oh. Sorry, I didn't have time to put it away, - the wily wizard smiled, no longer hiding, flashing a crimson-emerald fire in his eyes and sticking out a long, spiky tongue. - Congratulations, Donkey, on gaining freedom... and a new master! - the creepy creature standing in front of the house-elf croaked and waved his hand at his servants standing around.
Obeying this gesture, some of the elves grabbed Donki and dragged him forward, to where the unknown sorceress and the other cultists were already removing the curtain from the mirror she had previously covered.
Mirrors, whose frames were now glittering with eerie runes, the sight of which made your eyes hurt, and whose surface shimmered with incredible colors and swirls of strange energies. On top of the frame stood out a half-erased inscription, from which Donki made out only one word: "EINALEZH"...
September 1993. Hogwarts. Headmaster's office.
"...Do you confirm that you have no knowledge of the current whereabouts of the criminal Sirius Black or his movements since his escape from Azkaban prison?" the puny Ministry official with a hooked, warty nose and a stupid pince-nez on him muttered in a nasty, monotonous voice.
"I confirm," Severus said evenly, trying to look straight ahead and not let the picture swim before his eyes - this was common during interrogation under Veritaserum, which is what was taking place.
"Do you confirm that you did not provide him with any overt or covert support after his escape from Azkaban prison?" the official continued.
"I confirm," Snape answered again, using Occlumency to prevent himself from slipping into a drug-induced trance.
He, of course, did not dare to use any techniques to resist Veritaserum - two Aurors present during the interrogation carefully monitored that the prisoner did not use any magic, and a blood sample given in advance showed that the potions teacher did not take any antidotes. And yet, Severus Snape could not simply give in to chance and allow the narcotic potion to completely cloud his mind - if only out of pure pride.
Fortunately, Occlumency allowed him to keep his mind alert even after taking the Veritaserum, and so Severus answered some particularly tricky questions evasively, with general phrases. And if the official tried to insist, then the heavy artillery came in - that is, Albus Dumbledore.
Yes, yes! Dumbledore was also present at the interrogation as both the employer of the person being interrogated, the director of the institution where the interrogation took place, and a kind of lawyer. And so the Ministry employees, gritting their teeth, were forced to choose their questions carefully and wisely - there were no fools to argue with such an authority as Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore himself. No matter how much the same Aurors wanted to detain the former Death Eater "until the matter was clarified" - that is, until the moment when the fugitive Sirius Black was caught.
Similar interrogations were now taking place in various parts of Britain, with all the former comrades of the Dark Lord who were lucky enough to remain free. There was a rumor that an official order had even been sent to Bulgaria to interrogate Igor Karkaroff, despite his status as the headmaster of Durmstrang and his change of citizenship. Whether it was satisfied or not, Severus did not know, and, frankly, he did not really want to know.
Despite all his tricks, he still remembered the end of the interrogation vaguely. Dizziness and nausea almost completely consumed Severus, and all the potion maker could do was stand still and try not to vomit on the headmaster's carpet. The headmaster himself, either out of sympathy for his former student or out of concern for the cleanliness of the carpet, finally decided that it was time to end this farce - and therefore, when the ministry official tried to start asking the same questions for the third time, he decisively stopped this attempt and let Snape go.
September hadn't even really begun yet, but the school corridors were already filled with autumn drafts. But for Severus Snape, it was just what he needed: the chilly breeze from the walls helped him get his thoughts in order and shake off the last of the Veritaserum's influence from his consciousness. Of course, the drug poisoning was still there, but now that they had finally left it alone, it was no longer a problem - certainly not for the Potions Master.
He always had a bottle of the universal antidote with him, and he took it the moment the picture in front of his eyes stopped doubling. But the potion's universality was offset by its slow action - it would take at least an hour before the toxins were completely eliminated from the body. But that was not bad - especially for an experimental potion. One of many that Severus developed in his free time. If he had more time, he would not only have finalized the antidote, but also implemented a huge number of his other ideas. But what he never had was extra time.
Already in his office, leaning back in his chair, Severus breathed deeply, trying to speed up his blood circulation and thereby reduce the time it took for his body to cleanse itself of the crap they had pumped into him during the interrogation. The slowness of the process was irritating: at everything at once. At the asinine stubbornness of the Ministry officials, who, despite Dumbledore's clearly stated position, still showed up at Hogwarts and interrogated the Potions teacher for a whole hour under Veritaserum. At the idiocy of the very idea that he could somehow help Mordred's Black - one of the hated Marauders! Well, and at the imperfection of the long-suffering antidote, which he could not finish due to a lack of time, caused in turn by situations like the above. That is, the talentless squandering of this very time!
Gritting his teeth, Severus tried to calm down. He wouldn't be able to use Occlumency effectively for another forty minutes, so all he could do was breathe slowly and think about positive things.
He winced. Positive, of course! Considering the pile of problems that had been dumped on Snape in the last couple of years, it was extremely difficult to find positive ones. The returned Dark Lord, new political squabbles, incidents at school - on top of his usual worries, there were just too many new problems. No, of course, he had been preparing for years to have to babysit the cub of the hated James Potter. But it was assumed that he would simply study at school and no devilry would happen around him - apart from the troubles that he himself, due to his character, would bring upon himself. And in the end, the obscenity happening around Mordred's Gryffindor was more like an adventure from a cheap tabloid novel than everyday school life!
For the second year now, the spirit of the Dark Lord has been trying to penetrate the school, one way or another. First Quirrel, then the youngest Weasley - and in both cases they failed to either capture or finally put him to rest - only to expel him. Of course, at the end of the last school year, they got hold of the remains of the black diary with which the Lord subdued Weasley. But they were unable to determine either what it was or how it had subdued the first-year girl - the residual scattered emanations of Dark magic without any certainty did not give the slightest clue. And that they had a characteristic shade of necromancy is not surprising - Voldemort was a very talented wizard of Death.
But it wouldn't end there: knowing his former master, Severus was ready to bet a galleon against the broken Knut that he would not give up trying to be truly reborn - and would eventually succeed. And then both he and all of Britain would have a very, very "fun" time!
There was little he could do about it, though. He wasn't particularly knowledgeable about soul magic or necromancy. Snape's knowledge of the Dark Arts was limited to curses and Dark Alchemy - he didn't know much about death and the afterlife. Dumbledore, yes, but that was what he was the Great Wizard for. Let him rack his brains, Severus had his own work to do.
Keeping an eye on the secretive boy Potter, carefully collecting rumors among former Death Eaters, brewing potions for the Hospital Wing and for outside orders, and simply teaching duties - all this ate up so much time that thoughts about Voldemort's return caused only some kind of fatalistic resignation. And then there was the investigation of those strange rituals together with Tonks...
The Potion Master couldn't help but smile. Well, there was one positive ray of light in all this hopeless chaos - his acquaintance with Tonks.
Who would have thought that a love affair could develop between the dark Horror of the Dungeons, the nightmare of several generations of Hogwarts students, and a restless recent graduate? And not the kind of relationship Snape was used to: when two people simply have a good night, after which they go their separate ways - but a real one and, as far as he could tell, quite strong.
Love? A very loud word, which always irritated Severus with its pathos and pretentiousness. Sympathy, trust, a bit of respect, all seasoned with physical closeness - nothing more. Of course, such a bouquet was somewhat new to him, but not to say that it was unpleasant.
He grinned, feeling a stab in his heart from an old emotional wound. For a moment, the image of the boisterous pink-haired metamorph girl was replaced by another: a red-haired, green-eyed ghost of the past…
He spent a lot of time analyzing and going over his relationship with Lily Evans, his childhood friend. Much later than their quarrel in their fifth year, when she first took mortal offense at him for a carelessly thrown insult, and then he himself in his heart decided to break up with "that fool who can't even listen to her best friend" - he suddenly realized that Lily probably expected some actions from him... in a certain direction. The signs of attention that she showed him were difficult to interpret ambiguously! But he, like a complete idiot, reduced all their communication to studying and a shared hobby - potions. And the fact that after that quarrel they never restored communication was quite expected. As was her rapprochement with Potter and the Marauders after that.
Now it was completely pointless to guess whether he and Lily could have had a romantic relationship. As well as whether it would have changed anything in general. All that remained was the bitterness of losing almost the only person close to him…
Severus shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Let the ghosts of the past remain in the past! Especially now, unlike in recent years, he suddenly had a reason to distract himself a little from his eternal grief and self-flagellation. Which reason would be waiting for him in the kitchen of the house in Spider's End in the evening - where he would once again try to cook something before Snape arrived.
He grinned again and stood up resolutely - the thought that he now had somewhere and someone to return to pulled the potion maker out of his usual melancholy. His thoughts became clear and complete - the Veritaserum had almost evaporated from his blood, his vigor and desire for action were returning. Especially since there was a lot to do - and the two and a half hours wasted on the ministry officials only spurred him on to get up and act.
A quarter of an hour later he was leaving the castle gates and heading towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest, towards Hagrid's hut.
Severus shivered and looked up at the tops of the ancient fir trees. There, in the distance, figures in tattered black shrouds hovered above the forest—the Dementors.
At one time, he spent a couple of months in one of the cells of Azkaban - on the very top tier, where the emanations of these creatures were felt most strongly. However, back then, everyone who was even theoretically suspected of having ties to the Death Eaters was kept there, even if the imprisonment was temporary and the evidence was questionable. And in his case, with the Mark on his hand, they were not - and only Dumbledore's intercession saved him from the fate of moving there permanently.
However, even a couple of months were enough to remember this terrible feeling for the rest of his life. And so Severus was once again sincerely glad that after the incidents on the train and with the first-years on the lake, the headmaster insisted that the dementors not come closer than two miles to the school grounds. But that didn't make it any easier.
"Professor," Hagrid muttered, opening the door of the hut and letting Snape in. There had never been any particular friendship or even the slightest warmth between the Potions teacher and the forester. And yet the half-giant remembered Severus as a schoolboy! But that didn't work out. Although, this did not interfere with purely business and professional relations. Moreover, after last year's joint operation against the basilisk and the accompanying misadventures, he and Hagrid had given each other something like a vote of confidence. At least now they were united by several matters that others should not know about.
"Have the attacks resumed?" Snape asked as soon as the half-giant slammed the door.
"No… sort of," Hagrid frowned, walking deeper into the hut and calming Fang, his wolfhound.
- "Sort of?" the professor raised his eyebrows questioningly. - How so?
"The centaurs say that in that 'dangerous place' where the basilisk crawled out, the attacks really did stop," he explained. "But now the devilry has begun at the other end of the forest… although with such neighbors it's not surprising," the forester winced.
"Are the Dementors giving them trouble?" Snape asked without much interest.
"So does everyone else around here," Hagrid nodded. "But I don't think the Dementors would start making totems."
Severus quickly turned to his interlocutor, and in the blink of an eye his gaze changed from indifferent to sharp.
"Totems?" he asked again.
- You, Professor, told me to report everything strange that happens in the Forbidden Forest, - Hagrid shrugged. - So I report: in the forest, someone is making strange totems from branches, stones and animal bones. Well, and smearing them with offal and blood. And the unicorns have migrated far to the north, as if escaping from something... although they are also most likely running from the Dementors, - he rubbed his beard. - In general, there seems to be something strange, but it seems like there are enough problems without all this, - he muttered sullenly.
"Lucius's project failed?" Snape asked, slightly mockingly. He had initially told his friend Malfoy that it would not work to simply go and organize an enterprise to collect ingredients in the Forbidden Forest - it would take two years until all the conditions were agreed upon and the Ministry gave the go-ahead. And now, in light of the new circumstances, his forecast was coming true. Even with interest.
- No way! - the forester waved his hand, not catching the irony. - Mister Malfoy tried to convince everyone - but Fudge seemed to have gotten the hang of it! He doesn't give a damn about the unemployed or the benefit of society - he'll have to get rid of Black, so let the Dementors patrol the Hogwarts area! And he doesn't care that this abomination will hang around with children.
Snape just shook his head at this phrase - Hagrid was in his element. Where there were multi-layered political intrigues, scandals and underhanded games - and where there was a semi-literate forester. Of course, he didn't say this out loud.
"What kind of totems?" the potion maker asked, as if by chance. Although in fact, this was the main thing that interested him.
- I don't get it! - Hagrid frowned. - They appear on the borders of the centaur's domain, and it's not clear who puts them there. They look terrible. A frame of branches and bones, covered in skins and feathers. Everything is smeared with blood and guts, and they also smell of... something, - at these words the half-giant shuddered.
Severus listened carefully to the gamekeeper, taking in every detail. In all his time at Hogwarts, he had never heard of anything like this – Hagrid had regularly reported to Dumbledore on what was happening in and around the Forbidden Forest, and in the last twelve years, the most significant incident had been a skirmish between the centaurs and the proliferating acromantulas. Who would need to set up some strange totems? Perhaps the centaurs themselves?
"No, I doubt it," Hagrid answered after thinking about it when Snape voiced the last thought out loud. "Centaurs hunt animals only for meat and skins - they certainly wouldn't kill game in such numbers to build incomprehensible totems. Bane and the others don't like people, among other things, because they kill animals for fun," the forester said slowly, as if seriously considering his words.
"I see," Snape said neutrally, turning to leave. "Keep me informed about these totems. I may need to examine them soon."
Having said this, the Potions Master left the hut, heading back to the castle. He had new food for thought. The coincidences were becoming too interesting: first the sinister rituals around Harry Potter's place of residence, now the strange totems in the vicinity of the school where he studied... If it turns out that the totems were created using the same unknown magic that was used to perform the rituals, then we can finally admit that Alastor Moody was right.
There is another Dark Mage wandering around the boy. And how he is connected to the Death Eaters, and whether he is connected at all, and what he is trying to achieve - this remains to be seen. But there was no doubt that he was not trying to achieve anything good.
Autumn 1993. Hogwarts.
"Are you afraid, Harry Potter?" a soft voice whispered, seeming to come from all sides. "You hold all the wishes in the world in your hands! Isn't it stupid to be afraid of your wishes? Most people would give anything to be in your place. What are you waiting for? Wish!"
Harry shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment. Mordred's mirror, with a tenacity worthy of a better use, was trying to overcome his mental defenses and invade his brain. Of course, the demon sitting in it could be understood: after a thousand years of imprisonment, he wanted to quickly break free and devour souls, compensating for such a long forced fast. But the boy was not going to give in to the cheap promises of this Unborn so easily.
Firstly, he knew perfectly well what consequences would threaten the careless one who would rush into the demon's arms without preparation. Secondly, everything that the impudent mirror tried to show him was somehow too... petty.
No, of course, he dreamed of glory - but the pictures of Quidditch victories, given by the demon, made Harry only laugh. Simply because Quidditch for him was just entertainment, and not an end in itself, and besides, he easily won this game without any mirror.
Pictures of revenge on the Dursleys and the Dark Lord? Pfft! He will take revenge on his relatives himself, but he will do it at the right time, with intelligence and imagination, while avoiding any consequences. And Voldemort was too strong an opponent for the mirror spirit to seriously believe that the latter could seriously help in the battle with the Dark wizard.
In general, all the pictures shown were Mordred-like cardboard! Harry already understood that the demon could somehow penetrate the minds of victims and fish out of them the most hidden, most secret desires, in order to then transmit them to the "client". After which the so-called "client" gradually got hooked on the "needle" of the mirror and gradually went crazy.
Of course, the demon sealed in ancient times could not fully devour the souls of mortals - otherwise he would have gotten out long ago. But this did not stop him from having fun in this way and feeding himself a little.
And then came the one who could loosen the bonds of his thousand-year prison and allow him to at least fully communicate with others. What does any Unborn do in such a case? Of course, he tries to devour his savior! But the demon ran into not an ordinary young self-taught person, but a student of four demons much more experienced than the inhabitant of Erised! The one whose secret desires he did not see, and therefore gave out template images learned over many years of communication with Hogwarts students, seasoned with Harry's superficial thoughts - he took the same Dursleys and Voldemort from them.
But he couldn't get any deeper. And he couldn't directly influence the naughty schoolboy! But, to his credit, the demon didn't stop trying. Although, to be more precise, Potter allowed him to try - right up until the moment when the boy got bored with this game of staring at the mirror.
"Tell me your name, spirit!" Harry proclaimed, holding out his hand, his palm almost touching the mirrored surface of Erised.
The mirror began to ripple, and the runes drawn on its frame glowed even brighter - the demon realized that the enemy was much stronger than he had assumed. A dissatisfied ringing was heard - the spirit imprisoned in the crystal was clearly uncomfortable with Potter's actions.
"Why do you need my name, boy? I have so much to offer, you can't even imagine..." - despite the sudden blow, the demon tried to start his organ again, but was interrupted by another wave of Chaos entropy, blazing from the boy.
Harry felt his own four advisors strike in unison with him, each in their own direction, demonstrating that this mind already had enough of those who carried out its owner's wishes - and there was no place for a fifth participant, especially such a weakling. And so, for a time, the roar of the warp that had been seething around the Mirror of Erised died down. The Neverborn was clearly somewhat stunned and thoughtful.
Finally, he spoke again. Only this time it was akin to a soft, timid touch - the demon had abandoned his attempts to invade the young magician's consciousness and seemed ready to finally engage in dialogue.
"Who are you, young magician?" the mirror's inhabitant hummed, rather obsequiously. "Perhaps we didn't understand each other right away, but I can still be useful..."
"You can," Harry narrowed his eyes at this phrase and increased the pressure on the demon several times, causing the surface of the mirror to vibrate and a pain-filled scream to be heard in the warp. "Tell me your name, slave! Otherwise," here the boy's eyes flashed green in the darkness of the attic where the conversation was taking place, "I will feed you to my friends. Not much of a catch for four, but what can you do...
The process of taming the impudent Neverborn lasted for about half an hour - even weakened by centuries of imprisonment, the inhabitant of the Mirror of Erised fiercely resisted attempts to enslave him. Although, considering that two years ago he devoured a full-fledged human soul - poor Nicholas Flammel remained alone in the mirror with its predatory inhabitant - there was nothing surprising about this.
But finally, a barely audible, vanishingly weak voice rustled in Harry's head:
"Kalesh-Kash..." the demon said and the sorcerer felt an invisible leash of warp-bonds stretching from the Unborn to him. The demon said his true name and was now Harry Potter's slave, no higher than the same Quinky.
Once again waving his hand over the surface of the mirror, Harry clenched his fist, causing the runes on the frame of the artifact to go out. Not completely, no - he simply forced the conquered demon to fall into hibernation again, digesting the energy of the victim he had received.
And yes: in order to finally bring the demon out of the half-sleep, half-imprisonment in which he was, Harry made a sacrifice. Not the juiciest or most powerful, and only one - so that the demon would not be completely free and would not escape into the vastness of the Immaterium. Catch him later!
But the sacrifice was made according to all the rules. And even more: it was still alive!
Not far from the mirror standing in the middle of the attic there was a diagonal cross made of wooden beams, fastened with ropes, on which a house elf hung, pinned with warp chains. There was little about him that resembled Donka's home-grown spy: a disfigured face, long ears cut to shreds, an open stomach - under normal conditions he would have died from such wounds long ago! But even taking into account the fact that his heart and liver lay at the foot of the cross, on the corners of a strange figure drawn in his own blood, and his intestines hung over his shoulders - the elf remained alive. Moreover, he tried to breathe, blowing pink bubbles through his nose with each convulsive breath.
The other participants of their little ritual to awaken the mirror demon were not present at the scene of the conversation with the Neverborn. In fact, they only helped Harry and Hermione to tie Donkey and tie him to the cross - and then the young wizards managed on their own. However, if everything goes according to plan, Erised could continue to be used as a center of the Free Elves cult. Especially considering that this mirror is practically a ready-made warp portal!
"It will become a portal when we create a second exit point ," Smart Guy chuckled at his thought. "Of course, a window into the Great Ether is good as it is. But I suggest that as soon as the opportunity arises, we set up a similar point in Andy's temple - the cultists there have already prepared everything necessary for this."
"Stop ordering around other people's cults as if you were the boss!" Dobryak hissed irritably, once again trying to sting his eternal rival.
"I think we'll talk about this over the Christmas holidays," Harry diplomatically cut off the squabble, leaving the attic and carefully looking around the corridor. After making sure that no one was nearby, he threw the Invisibility Cloak over himself and Hermione, and they moved towards the Gryffindor dorm.
To be honest, the beginning of the new school year, despite the bright events of the summer and, it seems, the difference in the school curriculum, did not feel like the beginning of something fundamentally new. Except that they began more complex transformations in transfiguration, and more multi-stage spells in Charms... Well, that's probably all.
Well, no, I wouldn't say so. The new DADA teacher, like the additional subjects, brought in their share of innovations. And if the first one aroused some interest in Harry due to its origin and acquaintance with his family, then the new subjects were somewhat... disappointing. Although, perhaps, he was biased: after all, is it worth expecting something interesting from any subject from the first lessons?
He chose Runes and Divination as additional subjects. He would have chosen Care of Magical Creatures, like Ron and Draco, but he decided that then there would be no time left for his "little" hobby. However, Harry also managed to squeeze in additional History of Magic classes with Hermione. It was a risk, of course, because it caused a great deal of surprise – and therefore attention – from Dumbledore and Snape, but he thought it was worth it!
Professor Cuthbert Binns, by the way, was not particularly surprised: Harry had been visiting him periodically for half of his first year, and had dragged Granger along a couple of times in his second. So the ghost had personally secured a couple of hours of History lessons a week for the company of particularly stubborn "nerds".
So far, however, there had been only one additional lesson: on Ancient Runes. That was where the disappointment came from - after all, Harry had expected to uncover some of the secrets of the same Mirror of Erised. The secret of imprisoning a demon in it was not a secret for the young wizard - but the method of imprisoning it still raised a lot of questions! But all this rested on Antiquity. And not only the Runes, which, by the way, the same Erised was covered with, but also in the same History! The history of the cults of pre-human races, for example.
Oh, no, Harry hadn't forgotten about the goblins and their god Blargolag! Or that today's "house" elves once ruled half of what is now Britain, worshipped their own unknown Gods, and performed much more impressive magic than they do now. And no, their magic wasn't like the magic of modern wizards.
Many questions - few answers. And the fewer answers - the more anxiety overcame Harry! After all, the lack of answers gave rise to feverish thoughts, and those, in turn, to fear. And fear, as we know, kills the mind.
And the death of reason gives birth to monsters...
On the eve of the first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson of the new school year, Harry's nightmares returned. It would seem that a creature in the form of a schoolboy would terrorize anyone! But third-year student Harry James Potter still remained an ordinary teenager in many ways - albeit one who had set foot on the slippery and hopeless path of serving Chaos.
So that morning he jumped up in a cold sweat, once again waking up from dreams filled with green flashes of gauss rifles and under the gaze of a terrible giant in a black robe and with the Reaper's scythe in his hands.
And also - with a clear and unambiguous desire to kill every single Dementor around Hogwarts!
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