Forbidden Forest. December 1993.
"I don't want to sound banal, but it's too quiet in here," Remus Lupin said sullenly, holding his wand out in front of him and waving it back and forth. Severus glanced at his face: yellow flashes were clearly flashing in Lupin's eyes. It meant that the werewolf was extremely wary and tense, completely focused on perceiving the space around him.
"Well… is that a bad thing?" Tonks muttered uncertainly from behind them; as soon as their group stopped, Snape and Lupin immediately pushed her back.
"The forest is never this quiet," Snape shook his head while Lupin sniffed the air. "The animals and birds of the forest are constantly making background noise. Something scared them away from here. And that 'something' is clearly not us or the usual inhabitants of the forest."
"It smells strange," Remus said quietly in the meantime. "It smells a lot like Gilderoy Lockhart smelled before he was eaten."
"How is that related?" Snape frowned at that.
"I don't know," the werewolf shook his head. "Everything feels very strange here. The smell, the sounds… even my vision is acting up." At these words, he shook his head again and rubbed his eyes, as if they were really covered in sand.
"But I don't feel anything…" Tonks spoke up again, but Snape cut her off with a tense voice:
"Quiet! I don't like this Mordred-ish thing," he hissed, looking around the space between the trees. "Lupin, will you be able to go any further?"
"I can," Remus answered slightly uncertainly. "Of course, I'll have to restrain my perception a little — at least my sense of smell. It's unclear what kind of magic this is, and how I'll feel right there — but since we've started, it's too late to retreat."
Severus only nodded at this and they moved on. True, more slowly than before, constantly monitoring the space around and listening to every rustle. And Lupin could no longer use the wolf's enhanced perception: by waving his wand in front of his face, he somehow neutralized the bonuses to the strength of the senses given by lycanthropy.
"Special charms for magical pets," he explained to Tonks's question. "Many magical animals, when they end up with their owners in Muggle areas, simply go crazy from the abundance of unusual smells, sounds and colors - so they put such a 'jammer' on them so that they do not go crazy and do not attract the attention of mundanes. Well, I have adapted to use it on myself," he rubbed the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. "Of course, I don't remember such strange sensations as here before, but sometimes in London I want to climb the walls from the rumble of Muggle mechanisms and the smell of gasoline!" He smiled awkwardly, making it clear that he was trying to lighten the mood. Tonks smiled back politely, and Snape glanced jealously over his shoulder—he was now in the lead.
Finally, after about forty minutes of walking, they came to a small clearing in the middle of the forest.
"Here it is," Severus said quietly, even more wary. "Lupin, Tonks, the perimeter. I'll just check out… this."
By "this," Snape meant the eerie structure set up in the middle of the clearing, which Hagrid had described very accurately earlier. Something like a Muggle anti-tank hedgehog, only made of thick branches. More precisely, stakes or even spears: on the ends facing upwards, triangular tips of flint were found. But what was even more interesting – and disgusting – was that these tips were not empty. Each one had something impaled on it.
"Good God!" Tonks expressed herself in a completely Muggle manner and swallowed convulsively. Snape winced: after all, his lover was still an intern, and not a full-fledged Auror. Otherwise, she would have been watching the perimeter, as ordered, and not staring in horror at the bloody totem of eight spears installed in front of them. Although, to be honest, he himself almost wanted to puke, looking at this... work of art. Bloody carcasses of forest animals or their parts were impaled on all the stakes: mostly medium-sized animals - like badgers, foxes and even a forest pig. However, the head of its older relative - a forest boar - was also sticking out nearby. Whole bodies were pierced with sadistic precision: from the anus to the throat. "As if a sausage was impaled on a skewer" - an uninvited thought came to Severus's mind. And in the center...
"It seems like two years ago, when Harry entered his first year, something like this happened," Lupin said, glancing briefly at the head of a unicorn foal crowning the composition. Unlike Tonks, he was hardly distracted from his task: controlling the situation. "Someone was killing unicorns. Dumbledore said it was the spirit of You-Know-Who."
"Yes," Snape said harshly, waving his wand over the totem. "And here is proof that we were right! Quirrell wasn't alone. Someone was behind him, and someone powerful. Besides the Dark Lord," he clarified. "A gang of Death Eaters who escaped attention and arrest? Quite possibly," he said thoughtfully.
"But, Severus…" Tonks glanced at him awkwardly. She had already come to her senses and was trying not to be distracted any more. "Weren't you in that group? You should have seen something…"
"Tonks, I was a young man back then, just out of school!" Snape winced. "I was accepted into the Walpurgis Knights as a talented boy, good at potions and combat magic — so I wasn't initiated into half the secrets of the Inner Circle. What's more! Lucius hadn't heard anything about it either — and Malfoy is capable of finding out almost everything, even things that aren't intended for his ears. So — this is some kind of secret unit of the Lord's supporters," he bit the phalanx of his thumb in thought. "Or some dark wizards from the continent — I heard about some Mister Chorney from Eastern Europe, who has been stirring up Knockturn Alley and a couple of other seedy places in Britain for the last couple of months."
He moved his wand over the totem, trying to feel at least some kind of response. Threads of magic, magical constructs and arcana - that's what they called it in ancient times, I think. But he felt only an increasing itch in his head: as if someone was mumbling on the edge of consciousness. Severus jerked his wand away - his intuition screamed about danger!
"Mordred!" he gritted his teeth. "This thing, it seems, simply cannot be anything other than magical! But I can't feel the magic - it's as if it's dispelled or hidden behind some kind of barrier!"
"Severus, then maybe it would be better to imprint the totem on the conjuring device and retreat?" Lupin said in a very tense voice, looking somewhere at one point in the darkness between the trees.
"Do you have a conjuring device?" Snape slightly turned his head in his direction, ignoring another familiar address.
"Yes," Remus answered shortly. "Miss Tonks, please: the upper right pocket on the chest of my robe - there is an expanded space there, you will figure it out."
Tonks, hearing the tension with which the werewolf spoke, did not argue: especially since Severus was now also peering at the place where Lupin was aiming and looking, also aiming his wand there. Remus himself was still making some passes with his left hand, but such magic was not taught in the Auror, and therefore the girl did not think about such subtleties and simply took out a magic device from the expanded space - a standard rectangle with a retractable accordion lens and a round flash lamp on top.
"Dora, photograph the totem from different sides. Try to cover all the heads, the general appearance and the runes that are inscribed on the stakes," Severus said just as tensely as Lupin. He and Remus slowly moved towards the suspicious bushes.
To Tonks' credit, she didn't bother asking unnecessary questions and got down to business. All the while, she kept glancing back at the men walking toward the edge of the clearing. However, they didn't get there. Whatever they had spotted had walked out onto the clearing itself. The wizards froze in horror, looking at the monster that appeared before them.
A tall, thin humanoid body, with disproportionately long bloody limbs, from which bone fragments stuck out here and there, walked swaying from side to side. The creature's flesh and skin were strangely lumpy, like boiling liquid or a pulsating ulcer. However, "skin" was a purely conventional concept there - the mess that covered the creature was a terrible jumble of exposed flesh, bones, and even entrails that had crawled to the surface. The head was triangular, with a sharp chin and widely spread pointed ears, reminiscent of goblins or elves. And the entire "face" of the creature was occupied by a huge mouth with long spoke-like teeth. The eyes on this "face" were not visible.
"What is this?..." Lupin began, but the creature did not let him finish: the triangular mouth opened and a tongue of fire burst out of it.
"Get down!" Snape belatedly shouted, knocking Tonks, who was frozen with the magic device in her hands, onto the snow. Lupin hissed furiously nearby, clutching his burnt hand to his chest and dropping his wand. For some reason, Severus was sure that if he hadn't cast Protego before, the consequences would have been much worse!
"Sectusempra!" Snape roared, putting maximum power into the spell. And it worked. Moreover, the curse of the ghostly blades turned out to be surprisingly effective against the terrible creature! Because instead of the usual deep, unhealing wounds that it should cause, the spell cut off the creature's arm and ear. The monster squealed and jumped back.
"R… nki…" it suddenly croaked. "F… but…"
"It talks?" Tonks exclaimed in surprise.
"Bombarda Maxima!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Unlike the girl, Snape and Lupin did not waste time on unnecessary reasoning. The werewolf somersaulted towards his wand and conjured an explosion with his left hand, hoping to get the creature for sure. Severus, however, preferred the pinpoint but much more accurate Killing Curse - he had not planned to coddle the strange monster from the very beginning. However, the creature easily dodged Avada. But not Bombarda.
When the roar died down, and clumps of snow mixed with wood chips and offal settled on the ground, the three wizards finally decided to get up.
"Mordred and Morgana!" Snape hissed in annoyance, looking at the picture of the carnage. "Lupin, you should have hit with Hellfire too - to be sure there are no evidence left!" he spat furiously.
"You also immediately started shooting at them!" Tonks pointed an accusing finger at her lover. "Avada, damn it, Kedavra! Is that even legal?"
"Killing people — yes, it's illegal," Snape answered calmly. "With magical creatures there are nuances. And this was clearly a dark creature," at this phrase he barely noticeably glanced towards the werewolf. "But even if I had hit — and I didn't — we would have had this Mordred carcass left, which we could present to Dumbledore or someone else, or even study ourselves! And now we don't have that either."
Remus only shrugged his shoulders, slightly embarrassed. He and Snape had both gone through the hell of the Wizarding War in their youth, and therefore were accustomed to hitting to kill — which they had demonstrated in the past fleeting fight. Instinctively assessing the danger of his opponent, he struck with all his might with one of his most powerful spells. With obvious results.
Well, I think that's what Muggles call PTSD. Although until now Remus couldn't even imagine that he had any disorders. This place has a strange effect on him.
"Well, at least they managed to make some photographs," Tonks smiled radiantly, looking at the smashed totem. Severus just waved his hand at this: it was time to retreat. They still had to drag Lupin to the Hospital Wing.
Hogwarts. Just before Christmas 1993.
The first Quidditch match of the year was very late and took place just a few days before the Christmas holidays, in the second half of December. Dementors flying around Hogwarts and scavengers wandering around Hogsmeade generally greatly disrupted the usual annual routine - so there was nothing surprising about this. The school administration, of course, did not dare to cancel Quidditch completely: after all, it is one of the main entertainments and outlets for teenagers, crowded into the confined space of the castle for ten months out of twelve. Of which there were not very many entertainments anyway. This time, the draw determined that the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams would compete.
"This Diggory always smiles as if we are his best friends," the Sweet Tooth grinned in Harry's head when the teams entered the field and froze in a line opposite each other. "If he did not study for the highest grades, one could think that he is a fool."
"Some people are just sincere in their kindness," Dobryak muttered in response. "Why is it so hard to accept the fact that sometimes someone shows concern not for profit, but just like that?"
Harry chuckled skeptically, but did not comment: he knew this Nurgle care for others. And, what is remarkable, truly selfless! Well, almost... The captain of the Hufflepuff team, sixth-year Cedric Diggory, really gave the impression of a "good guy". He was polite to those around him, regardless of their origin, faculty, or even membership in a rival Quidditch team. Moreover, Harry heard that the Hufflepuff often came to the aid of younger students - also regardless of the color of their ties. Although, it seemed, this was his direct responsibility as a prefect - but Potter knew very well that most prefects were rather biased towards students from other houses. In this sense, Diggory showed himself in a more favorable light. Diggory became captain only this year, before that he was an ordinary seeker. Well, not "ordinary"... Last year, Harry was convinced that he was quite a strong opponent. All because Cedric, of all the Seekers on the school teams, was the one who sincerely tried to understand Potter's tactics and style of play, and to develop a counter! Of course, they didn't meet on the Quidditch pitch as often as it might seem to a person ignorant of the tournament tables. More precisely, only once. When Harry was in his first year, Gryffindor beat Slytherin in the first match, then Ravenclaw beat Hufflepuff - after which there followed the Hufflepuff-Slytherin matches for third place and Ravenclaw-Gryffindor for first place. Thus, he met the badgers for the first time only last year - but this was enough to interest the young chaosite. Of course, studying the style of play occurs not only directly on the pitch, but also from the stands. Harry had no doubt that Diggory attended all the Quidditch matches, even if he did not participate in them himself - and watched Potter. Last year, Cedric tried to adapt to the maneuvering style of the Gryffindor seeker, but, firstly, it was their first meeting on the field, and secondly, he was not the captain then - and could not influence the team's tactics. That's why Harry was looking forward to this match. Finally, at least someone would try to resist him! Because easy victories in the past two years had become a bit boring. In extreme cases, there is an opportunity to confuse Cedric with the Love Gaze. In the heavens, even such a trifle could play a cruel joke on a player, and Harry could make it so that this influence would not be a "trifle".
Madame Hooch's whistle - and it started spinning! He realized that he was in deep trouble when a bludger almost knocked him off his broom. With his reaction and instinctive calculation of the lines of fate - unusual. Well, that's right: the Hufflepuff Beaters were circling on either side of him and concentrated their fire on the enemy seeker. Diggory clearly wanted to eliminate the threat to the entire party early in the game. Harry grinned wryly. Two people could play this game! He turned sharply and sped up. Fortunately, his Nimbus 2000 was quite capable of such maneuvers. The course was straight toward one of the badger beaters. At first, he was taken aback and even scared: it looked as if crazy Potter was going to ram him! But at the last moment, the Gryffindor jerked his broom sharply down, going off course... and allowing the Bludger, flying to intercept, to smash the broom of the huffle it had just flown toward! A flash of a spell - and the frightened beater smoothly landed on the grass. Quidditch is a dangerous sport, and therefore, at school matches, teachers strictly monitored the safety of students.
"Useless weaklings!" - Zabiyaka was full of energy, fired up by adrenaline and an aggressive style of play. "Survival of the strongest! And the fastest! If we coddle every useless piece of trash, we'll end up with a crowd of degenerates, rotting in body and soul!"
"Everyone should have a chance to survive!" - Kindly One exploded at this. "Not everyone can be strong, but everyone can still be useful!"
"Pfft! What?" - the Khornate growled mockingly in response. "To be recycled into humus?"
"As an option," the Nurgle snorted.
At this point, Harry stopped listening to the squabble of the spirits, concentrating on what was happening on the field. And something very interesting was happening! The broom of one of the twins - it seemed, George's - began to buck and jump strangely, clearly no longer obeying its rider!
"What Mordred?!" Harry heard Weasley's scream when his broom jerked sharply upward, rushing almost vertically towards the clouds. "George, your mother, what are you doing?!" this time Oliver Wood barked, stopping in the middle of the field.
"Madam Hooch, stop the match!" - Diggory joined Wood. He lives up to his noble reputation, Harry thought. There's something wrong with Weasley's broom!
A whistle, a worried noise and hubbub - and several brooms rushed up after George. Including Harry on his Nimbus. In fact, only the Nimbus of all the available brooms could gain altitude so quickly, at which George was now hovering and trying to cope with his unruly transport. The others fell behind him and Harry was the first to catch up with him. But he didn't have time to do anything: he was covered with the already familiar cold.
"George, what's wrong with the broom?" - Harry said in a slightly trembling voice, taking out his wand.
"By the way, it's more or less fine now," Weasley answered, breathing heavily, convulsively clutching the shaft. "It was just kicking like a bull at a rodeo, and now it's calmed down... Ouch!" - His eyes widened, looking somewhere behind Potter. And Harry knew what he had seen.
"Remember our tricks last year at your place?" Harry croaked, feeling the warmth rapidly leaving his body, and time slipping through his fingers with it. The hand holding his wand was shaking. "Time to remember the Wronski Feint."
"Whoa, whoa! Harry, take it easy!" George tried to protest in horror. "You're the Quidditch genius, the youngest Seeker in years! I'm not sure that…"
"No time!" Potter barked. "Now!"
Weasley could only obey. Taking a deep breath, he went into a steep dive, hoping that the teachers would catch him with a spell if necessary. Harry finally gathered the strength to turn his broom towards the approaching black shadows. Flocks of Dementors were flying high above the Quidditch pitch!
"Expecto Patronum!" he shouted, concentrating all his strength on his sense of the Immaterium. A silver flash lit up the sky.
Warp. Beyond time and space.
She ran with all her might, stumbling and falling, getting up again and starting running again. Her pursuer lost sight of her for a moment, but she knew it wouldn't be for long. The place she was running through was somewhat reminiscent of a giant library. True, it was very different from a real library - at least in the absence of a ceiling above the high shelves that hung on the sides of the passage. Instead, something like the sky was visible above, burning with an eerie fire and shimmering with amazing colors! The shelves themselves were also very strange. If you looked at them straight on, there was nothing special about them: rows of book spines on shelves, interspersed with slots for scrolls. But as soon as you looked down the corridor, your peripheral vision began to play evil jokes on the girl! The books began to move, grow limbs and open wide their toothy mouths. A sharp turn of her head in their direction... and they froze again. Normally, she would have even stopped to admire the riot of colors in the sky or to study the strange shelves in more detail, but not now. Because she was being followed. Worse: she was gradually being caught up with!
Luna turned another corner and stopped, catching her breath. It was strange: how could it be that in a dream she was out of breath from running so fast? After all, this was all unreal - just a dream from which she could not wake up! And yet... Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar sound, from which the hair on the back of her neck stirred and a plaintive sob escaped on its own. A crystal ringing, similar to strange laughter. The girl ran again, trying to convince herself that in a dream air is not so important - and therefore, there is no way she could be out of breath! Surprisingly, it helped: it was as if she had a second wind, and Luna ran even faster, zigzagging among the bookshelves.
Luna Lovegood always had vivid dreams - with her imagination, it's no surprise. But before her mother died, they had never been so realistic... or gloomy. And after entering Hogwarts, any sleep session turned into a trip to another dimension! Moreover, the further she went, the more difficult and creepy these imaginary dimensions became. Traveling through different worlds inside her own consciousness, she was unconsciously looking for something. Amazing landscapes, plants, animals - like Alice in the White Rabbit's hole from a Muggle book she read as a child. But the deeper she went into the "hole", the more terrible Wonderland turned out to be. And in the end, due to her own carelessness, she attracted the attention of... someone.
"It" was felt only briefly at first, on the edge of consciousness. The dreams, already increasingly ominous, began to give off a tinge of anxiety. Someone — or something — was walking around, lurking in the shadows, as if sniffing. "It," it felt, did not see Luna. The girl was separated from It by some kind of veil, a translucent film of Reality itself — that's how it felt. Last year, when she had just arrived at Hogwarts and all this had begun, Lovegood had been especially absent-minded. She couldn't communicate normally with her old friend Ginny — that's why she missed the moment when Weasley began to behave inappropriately, disappear for long periods and sleepwalk. Lovegood didn't even particularly notice the bullying from the older girls: it was all out there, beyond her dreams. She was much more concerned with what was happening here! Because It had come very close to the cocoon that surrounded Luna's consciousness and was probing it with all its might, testing its strength. And Lovegood was trying with all her might not to let the cocoon break through. Needless to say, she failed? The thin film of Reality in her consciousness had fallen - and It had begun its pursuit.
Of course, she had seen something not from the real world before. Half-formed shadows hovered over people's heads, strange creatures lurked in the shadows. As Luna understood, her mother had been researching these strange visions, and could see something similar herself - but she had not had time to share this knowledge with her little daughter. After her death - which happened before Luna's eyes, but which she did not remember at all - all that was left of her were scattered notes and a couple of souvenirs. For example, astral-spectral glasses that allowed her to see Wrackspurts and Nargles much more clearly. It was these glasses that helped the girl to delay the fall of the "cocoon" a little, allowing her to see the streams of brainsnakes and understand where this or that action would lead her. However, as has already been said, this helped only temporarily.
What ultimately caused the fall of that inner wall that protected her mind and soul from the penetration of "It"? The girl did not know. But she guessed that it was somehow connected with Harry Potter - the famous boy a year older than her. Through the astral-spectral glasses, he looked damn strange: as if four terrible shadows were hanging over his shoulders, advising and directing him in a direction known only to them with a vibrating bass. Scary, creepy, but at the same time... attractive? Luna could not give a clear answer to this question. And now there was no time for this at all: she urgently needed to find a way out of her dream - otherwise It would overtake her! Oh, yes, It had been coming into her dreams for several nights now – but each time Luna managed to slip away and find a way out. But the further it went, the harder it was to do! The feeling of anxiety and persecution had been growing since the beginning of the year, even occasionally covering Lovegood in reality. And then one night It pounced on her in her dreams and chased her through an endless, creepy labyrinth. And so it went on night after night, for almost two weeks now… …As if someone had let It off the leash.
But she couldn't give up! Mum would not have approved. And Dad, too. They always said that there were no hopeless situations! There was always a way out. Even if you were eaten, you had at least two – that's what they always said. Even after his wife died, Xenophilius Lovegood continued to tell his daughter the same thing. Don't give up. There is always hope! She sobbed and sped up. The ominous but monotonous shelves flashed again - as if she was running in circles night after night, to the amusement of the predator behind her. She had to find a way out of the dream world - there was no other way. Because she had no friends in this terrible kingdom, no one to help her... ...Until today.
"Here!" someone suddenly shouted from the side branch. "Hey, here, quickly!"
Luna was so surprised that someone here spoke to her that she even slowed down. This had never happened before! The shadows of the dream world had never acquired such clear outlines to fully communicate with them. And then... She quickly regretted her stop: a mocking crystal ringing sounded very close! There was no time left for doubts and reflections - and so she rushed towards the voice that was calling her.
"You?" Luna exclaimed in surprise when, at the intersection of shelves that opened up to her, she saw the one who was calling her. More precisely, that one.
"No time to explain!" Gryffindor Hermione Granger, who somehow miraculously found herself in someone else's dream, shook her thick shock of chestnut hair with a colorful bauble woven into it. "He'll be here any minute! Smarty and I had prepared an ambush, but first we had to get to that place!"
Luna didn't ask anything – the hair on the back of her head stood on end again, as if someone else's anticipatory gaze was fixed on her back. This meant that the pursuer had noticed her again and she had to run away immediately! Granger, however, wasted no time: grabbing Lovegood by the sleeve of her robe, she pulled her along with unexpected force, away from the terrible gaze and its owner. An annoyed ringing sounded from behind – the predator realized that someone was trying to take his prey away! But the girls had already quickly run along an unexpectedly short corridor between the shelves and jumped out into something like a clearing or a wide hall under the open "sky".
"Here!" someone called them again, but in a different voice. Luna's head was thrown back, her eyes wide with surprise.
In the middle of the hall-clearing there was a strange stone door in the form of intertwined snakes with rubies instead of eyes. Two lopsided wardrobes next to it and some other pieces of furniture - but all of these were just insignificant trifles. The main thing that surprised the girl was who was standing on top of this heap! On the stone door in the form of snakes there was a tall and slender young man with curly dark blue hair. Multi-colored eyes - one bright green, the other almost black - stood out even at such a distance. A sharp and long straight nose and a narrow face in combination with a slightly dreamy smile created the impression of some kind of naivety, hovering in the clouds and so on - Luna could not clearly define this impression, but at first glance, according to the sensations, everything was so. The strange young man was dressed in an old-fashioned long-tailed waistcoat of bright green color and a purple top hat. Short breeches in the color of the waistcoat, striped stockings and red shoes with gold buckles completed the look. Oh, yes. The young man also held two umbrellas in his hands. In the right one - a bright and colorful one, with some moving pictures. In the left - a completely black one.
"Ole Lukkoye..." Lovegood muttered almost in surprise, stopping at the foot of the stone door in the form of snakes. And yes: she had read this Muggle fairy tale too.
"How nice that some modern girls still know my name," the young man nodded kindly to Luna. "But some prefer to use nicknames, which, moreover, were not invented by them." At the same time, he glanced sideways at Granger, who was standing next to him, who only snorted:
"That is not your true name," the Gryffindor snorted at this. "Now tell me that you don't like the nickname Smarty!"
"I didn't say that," Ole Lukkoye answered evenly, smiling again. However, his smile almost immediately slid off his face: all because in the opening between the shelves from which the girls had come running, a sharp, grinding ringing sound was heard. Luna's pursuer clearly had no intention of giving up his prey and was furious that his hunt had been interrupted.
"Okay, dear ladies, stand behind me for now," the Spirit of Dreams - or whoever was hiding under his guise - said frowningly, jumping softly onto the floor of the "library" hall. "We still need to deal with our uninvited guest."
Which guest did not delay in appearing. A new - shorter than the previous one - ringing and creaking "roar" was heard, and It emerged from the shadows of the corridor of the illusory library. A massive crocodile-like body about four meters long was covered with something resembling shards of mirrors and crystal. It was as if an old chandelier with pseudo-"diamonds" had been taken apart and this terrible chimera had been glued together. This One's legs also resembled those of crocodiles. Eight short paws: four on each side — ended with four crystal claw-like fingers. A fleshy tail with triangular spikes that passed from it onto the creature's back swung from side to side. And above the place where the crocodiles' heads were, a thin neck extended, covered with smaller scales and ending in… It looked most like a flower. A huge flower with long teardrop-shaped petals extending from the core: a smooth oval mirror that replaced the monster's face. And in the gleam of this "face" Polumna thought she saw something… triumphant. No matter how delirious it would be to attribute human emotions to the gleam of a mirror surface.
The monster didn't wait: as soon as the mirror "flower" reflected the trinity crowded in the center of the area, it immediately rushed forward, making the same eerie grinding sound! Fifty meters, thirty, ten… Ole Lukkoye – or Smart Guy, or whatever this guy's real name was? – calmly raised his colorful umbrella at this and opened it a moment before the monster crashed into him! Lovegood almost instinctively covered her eyes in fear at the last moment: it seemed that the mirror dinosaur-flower would now sweep away the thin figure in a doublet and rush at them! But she still held back. And therefore she was able to see that the monster had failed. No, the Spirit of Dreams from the Danish writer's tales did not destroy the monster or push it away with an invisible shield. The monster simply… changed the vector of its movement to the opposite. Luna even shook her head: it was very, very strange! The monster clearly did not stop for a moment - it ran and ran. Just a moment ago it was running at them, and a moment later - away from them, towards the shelves! How it happened and how Ole Lukkoye pulled it off, she didn't know. And for now she didn't want to know. And the monster, not expecting such a setup, after the "transfer" became confused, got tangled up in his legs and collapsed, while by inertia somersaulting several times and crashing into the shelf behind him. There was a furious glass screech and a terrible otherworldly howl, from which goosebumps ran all over Luna's body. And then her eyes widened in horror: the shelf, from the rubble of which her pursuer was trying to climb out, came to life! Literally exploded into a bunch of tentacles, mouths, pincers and clawed paws, and tried to grab the mirror monster and tear him apart! Unfortunately, the dino-flower managed to escape from the tenacious paws. Having torn apart several particularly impudent "tentacles", which immediately disappeared with a hiss in the black-crimson smoke, the mirror monster shook himself and stood up. Battered, with a bunch of bald spots in place of the scales gnawed off by the rack, he no longer looked as impudent and confident as before. And now in his mirror "muzzle" there were no triumphant glares - only anger and wariness.
Ole Lukkoye waved his hand with a colorful umbrella in his palm and grinned, as if inviting the enemy:
"Torro!"
The monster couldn't stand such impudence: with another disgusting grinding sound, it immediately took off towards the offender. However, it became clear that it was not just a stupid animal: the mirror spawn learned from its mistakes. And so, at the last moment, when there were a couple of meters left to the colorful umbrella, It jumped up with incredible ease, pushed off from the old wardrobe that stood on the edge of the patch where the two girls and the Spirit of Dreams were huddled, and then fell with all its weight on their protector! ... ... To fly off again towards the wall of shelves around the "hall" and crash into one of them again. Ole Lukkoye, too, as it turned out, was an experienced "toreador", and therefore, at the last moment, he caught the falling monster on the umbrella. Which is why It again changed the vector of movement, instead of falling diagonally down, it soared diagonally up! This time the mirror-man dealt with the pseudo-racks that attacked him with much greater difficulty. He had lost two paws, the bald spots from the claws and thorns were oozing with silvery ichor, and the mirror "muzzle" was showing off a real crack! So for the third time It didn't even make threatening sounds, standing in indecision at the edge of the platform, obviously wondering what to do.
The young man in the green camisole winced: "It seems you won't calm down in a good way." With these words, he rolled up the colorful umbrella. And opened the black one. Raising it above his head, he chuckled strangely and spoke in a voice vibrating with hidden power:
"Oh, the one who is darker than twilight! O, he who is more crimson than the flowing blood!..."
At the very first sounds of his voice, a ball of primordial Darkness swelled above the tip of the umbrella, pulsating and gradually growing in size, and around it the very air seemed to vibrate from the power hidden in it! ...
"In the name of You, buried in the Depths of Time, in Your glory, I swear allegiance to the Darkness!..." meanwhile, the Spirit of Dreams continued to recite. His mismatched eyes had now both darkened and looked almost equally black. His suit had faded, as if covered in ash, and his hair had become almost gray, like in an old black-and-white film. To Polumna, his appearance and outfit no longer seemed ridiculous, as did his naive face - too sinister a side of Ole Lukkoye was now revealed to her. It became clear that this was not just a character from children's fairy tales - this was the sovereign ruler of the World of Dreams, who at the moment was terribly displeased with the impudent invasion of his domain! ...
"Let those fools who oppose us," the Spirit of Dreams recited in a sepulchral voice, "be destroyed by our united Power. Dragon Slave!"
At the last phrase, he abruptly lowered the umbrella, pointing it at the mirror monster. The Ball of Darkness on its tip, which had already swelled to the size of a car, rushed forward and rushed towards the enemy. Through the hum of energy, it seemed to Polumna that at the last moment she heard the mournful grinding of the monster - but she did not have time to understand whether it was true or an illusion. The Ball of Darkness, having reached its target, exploded and the opposite edge of the platform was swallowed by a black column of a powerful explosion! Oddly enough, there was no blast wave. But here, in a dream, such physical details were purely conventional - Lovegood had already learned that. And so she was not surprised that the column of Darkness simply dissipated, leaving behind a deep crater and remnants of shelves. The Mirror Monster was defeated.
"Impudent midge," chuckled the one who looked like Ole Lukkoye. "Just crawled out of the Looking Glass, and there! Impudent creature."
"T-thank you," was all Luna could squeeze out. Despite the fact that they were still in her dream, she was reeling from nerves and adrenaline.
"You are welcome, girl," smiled the Spirit of Dreams, who had already taken on his former motley appearance. "You should thank Hermione — she found you and brought me to help."
"But… how?" Lovegood asked uncertainly, turning her gaze to the smugly smiling Gryffindor.
"Very simple," she snorted. "Firstly, you are not the only one who climbs through the Dream World, but unlike you, I have prepared for this and made useful contacts," here she glanced sideways at Ole Lukkoye standing next to her. "Secondly, never fall asleep anywhere!" she raised her finger sternly to Luna's face. "It would be fine in your common room, but you managed to doze off in a chair in an abandoned classroom!"
Lovegood had nothing to say to this. Since the beginning of this school year, and especially when It began to haunt her, she was terribly exhausted and sleep-deprived. The girl could suddenly fall asleep anywhere and at any time, as long as she assumed a more or less calm position.
"There aren't that many mirrors in Hogwarts," Ole Lukøye shook his head in the meantime. "You managed to fall asleep next to one of them just recently, without taking any precautions. We can't tell when it happened, and it doesn't matter. The main thing is that the demons of the Looking Glass have found a way into your consciousness. This beast," he nodded at the smoking funnel, "is just the first swallow."
"But… but what should I do?" Luna asked in confusion, causing a shadow of triumph to flash across Smarty's face for a moment. Everything was going as he had expected.
"We'll need to develop a defense," Hermione shrugged. "Harry could help you."
"Harry? Harry Potter?" Lovegood asked for some reason.
"Do you know another Harry I'm friends with?" Granger chuckled in response. "In any case, we'll have to look for the gap in your consciousness, the place in the World of Dreams where he crossed over into the Looking Glass – and where these creatures are crawling from," he nodded again towards the funnel.
"But now you'll need at least temporary protection anyway," the Spirit of Dreams drawled thoughtfully. Then he smiled: "You know, you really are like Alice who fell down the rabbit hole and got lost in Wonderland. That's why you don't just need protection – you need a protector and a guide. For example, the Cheshire Cat."
"Curiouser and curiouser," Luna snorted with laughter. The unreality of what was happening was even starting to amuse her. Or was it the withdrawal from the horror she had experienced? She didn't know.
"Oh, yes," Ole Lukkoye smiled and made some kind of pass with his colorful umbrella and…
"G-greetings, Guardian of Dreams," someone said in a purring voice from somewhere below. Shifting her gaze there, Lovegood saw… a cat. Well, yes, a cat. A terribly strange cat! There was almost no fur on him, which made him look like a Muggle breed called a "sphynx". His muzzle was elongated to the sides, with slyly narrowed eyes... Bright red with vertical snake-like pupils. How snake pupils differed from cat pupils, Luna did not know - but these ones resembled a reptile, not a cat. The cat's nose was two vertical slits, which also increased his resemblance to a snake. Well, and, of course, as befitted the Cheshire Cat, he had a wide, toothy smile that covered his entire muzzle.
"This girl will need help if they come for her from Through the Looking Glass again. At least until we find a way to seal the passage there."
"Hmm..." thoughtfully drawled the Cat. He leisurely walked around Luna in a circle, while she warily watched him. The Cheshire cat's tail was wagging from side to side and was covered with small grey scales. "Hints of snakes again," flashed through Lovegood's mind.
"Well, to help a poor lost girl not to get lost is the duty of every decent gentleman."
"Well, that's decided," nodded Ole Lukkoye. and then he frowned slightly and, putting his hand in his waistcoat pocket, took out a gold watch on a chain. "Oh-oh! It seems time is running out. Hermione, it's time for you to wake up," a glance towards Granger.
"Yes, it's high time," the girl nodded seriously and pulled Lovegood along with her.
"But shouldn't we talk about protection with the Cat?" she asked puzzledly, looking back at the Cheshire cat.
"I'll find a way to contact you myself, girl," the Cat smiled broadly at this. "Hermione will explain everything to you, but for now just remember my name: Tom."
"Tom. I will remember," nodded Lovegood.
Meanwhile, Hermione confidently pulled her to that very stone door in the shape of snakes, located in the center of the landing.
"Since you hardly remember the place where you fell into this layer of var… I mean, the World of Dreams," Hermione chuckled at the last phrase. "Then we will use my entrance. Open!" - the Gryffindor girl hissed strangely - and the stone snakes began to move, opening a passage sparkling with strange energy. "Let's go!"
Without wasting time, Granger pulled Luna into the passage. A moment, a flash ... and on the platform in the middle of the illusory library there were only two people left: a young man with two umbrellas and the "Cheshire Cat" arched in a furious arc.
"Elder speech, blessed Parseltongue - and from the lips of a despicable mudblood!" the voice of the "Cat" hissed, having lost all purring. "Shame, what a shame! ..."
"Shut up, slave," the cold voice of the one who had taken the form of Ole Lukkoye sounded above him. In it, as in the voice of the "Cat", one could no longer hear the benevolent notes of the fabulous Spirit of Dreams - only an echo of the Ocean of Souls, reflecting from the walls of the skull and penetrating into the very soul. However, the appearance of the young man with two umbrellas began to change, flowing into a more familiar appearance for a demon nicknamed Smarty. The elongated face and long hair turned into a glowing ball of energy, constantly flowing and changing. The structure of the body began to resemble more of a primate, covered in multi-colored crystal scales and spikes, the clothes turned into a cloak of multi-colored feathers, and the umbrellas - into a magical staff, sparkling from the energy overflowing it.
"You are still alive only because you remain useful," Smarty drawled condescendingly, hanging over the "Cheshire" with his tail and ears between his legs - or rather, the enslaved Horcrux of Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort. "But if you continue to be impudent and speak ill of your own masters, this may end badly. Am I making myself clear?"
"Y-yes, sir," the fragment of Voldemort stammered, shrinking even more, and retreating back.
"Wonderful," the Smart One nodded indifferently, after which he turned away and moved toward the funnel that had formed after their "battle." "Appear, Kalesh-Kash, the show is over!"
One moment — and the air in the place of the funnel rippled, forming into the figure of a demon. That same mirror monster with which the fake Ole Lukkoye had supposedly "fought." Bending the front part of his crocodile body, he depicted with his front paws something like a warm-up of his stiff muscles.
"This was your potential Oracle?" he said in a ringing crystal voice. "Not bad. I just don't understand, why do we need this?" - a nod towards the Horcrux cowering near the stone snakes. - "This Lovegood could easily use the power of Erised directly, bypassing... intermediaries." The last word was spoken with obvious contempt: a full-fledged demon, an inhabitant of the warp, did not consider a fragment of a lost soul - especially a human one - to be his equal.
"We do not need... incidents," answered Smarty. "For some time, the girl must remain alive and sane. Well, relatively sane," he chuckled. "She is not yet so open to the warp - and your direct influence will simply devour her. However, I suspect that you yourself are not at all against such a scenario?"
At this, the mirror demon merely shrugged his "shoulders" independently – he wasn't going to deny it.
"So we've agreed," the Smart One chuckled again. "The Chosen One is counting on Lovegood and her abilities!" he added weightily. "And I don't have to explain to you that He will be furious if something goes wrong with her."
Both the demon of Erised and the Dark Lord's Horcrux shivered. They had already felt on their own skin what it was like to be displeased by Harry Potter, the Chosen One of Chaos. And they had absolutely no desire to tempt fate again.
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