Harry, Ron, Fred, and George stood in the garden near a large white wedding tent, waiting for the guests to arrive. A crowd of waiters in white robes and musicians in gold jackets had arrived an hour ago, and all these wizards were now sitting nearby under a tree. Potter saw a blue cloud of tobacco smoke wafting above them.
Harry felt uncomfortable. But then George exclaimed, "I'll be damned, they're ready... They're coming." After that, everyone could see the wedding procession appearing, winding its way through the garden towards the tent. Soon Tonks and Lupin came over to greet the children. The adults tried to look cheerful and happy, but their eyes betrayed their anxiety. They had both been on duty yesterday at the Black mansion on Grimmauld Place and were supposed to report any news to the Order. But the house remained invisible and inaccessible. It seemed as if the days when the last of the Blacks sat in Azkaban had returned.
Soon, all the guests gathered in the tent. And finally, the ceremony began. Harry felt as if he were here and somewhere else at the same time. Thoughts and feelings tore him apart from within. The battle at the Ministry, when his friends had survived by a miracle. The Order's help played a significant role in this, his godfather, Lupin, Moody, Tonks and Kingsley, and in the end, Dumbledore himself fought an epic battle with Voldemort. Memories of the last moments of the headmaster's life came back to the young wizard as if they were happening again. Snape's betrayal...
"Harry," Hermione touched the boy gently on the shoulder. She had barely managed to get close. With a forced smile, the wizard refocused on the ceremony.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said the wizard with thin hair on his head. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls." "William Arthur, do you take Fleur Isabelle to be your wife?"
Again, against his will, Harry's thoughts returned to Sirius. Where had his godfather gone? Why was the house closed? Maybe he needed help right now?
"... and I now pronounce you bound together for life." The wizard with thin hair raised his magic wand above Bill and Fleur's heads, and silver stars rained down on them, enveloping their figures as they kissed.
The orchestra began to play. Bill and Fleur were the first to emerge to thunderous applause. A moment later, they were joined by the parents of the bride and groom. Soon the rest of the guests arrived. Harry did not dance; he managed to talk to Aunt Muriel and Alphias Dodge. The information that had come to light about Dumbledore's past had thrown the boy off balance. Noticing his state, Hermione approached him again, complaining of tiredness from all the dancing.
"Harry, I can't dance anymore. Ron went to look for butterbeer." She lowered her voice and leaned towards him. "Harry, what's wrong?"
While he was wondering where to start, something large and silvery fell through the tent onto the dance floor. A lynx landed gracefully and lightly in the middle of the crowd of dancers. The Patronus opened its mouth wide and spoke in the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"The Ministry has been defeated. Scrimgeour is dead. They're already on their way.
The informant was right. The Ministry has proven itself incapable of protecting its citizens or fighting back against a terrorist organisation. All of this happened earlier than predicted, and today, apparating near Gringotts, I was able to observe all the consequences of the fall of the official authorities. It seemed as if Diagon Alley was filled with rats in the guise of wizards. Magic shops were being looted, careless passers-by could be robbed of their gold, and there were no Aurors to be seen. Everyone already knew about Scrimgeour's death and the seizure of power. Occasionally, young wizards could be seen behaving very recklessly, searching for Muggle-borns and half-bloods. So far, I had managed to escape their attention. Slipping through the bank doors, I headed straight for the last window. Gringotts had not been spared by the events unfolding in the world. It had gone into martial law, but had not yet closed its doors to customers.
"Mr O'Henley?" – a small, cosy room for customers who did not wish to reveal their identity.
"Today. I have a reservation for the small ritual room." The goblin grinned broadly. Naturally, I had to reschedule the ritual and pay double the price for the room. All because of my stupid overconfidence when hunting acromantulas, I stumbled into a small clearing and sprayed the spiders with Avada. How could I forget that Latunia hard-leaved was in bloom there? It's cheap to buy because it's rarely used in potions due to its incompatibility with other ingredients. And this little flower, along with its pollen, released poisonous spores. It wasn't easy to kill an adult mage. But I had to spend time and money on recovery. It was good that I had the main antidotes with me in my portable first aid kit.
"Everything is ready. Shall I show you out?" he grinned maliciously.
"Yes, first to the safe, then to the hall." With their intricate corridors, it was difficult for the uninitiated to find their way around, and these little people were immensely amused by the helplessness of the mages on their territory.
We went down without the familiar trolley. Apparently, due to recent events, the goblins had increased security. I wonder if they could fight off a direct attack from Voldemort? Lost in such speculations, weighing the pros and cons, he finally approached his safe.
"Second Life 24.04.1983" was the audio keyword. I chose the most memorable numbers - the date of birth of my previous body. While the goblin remained outside, I entered the room. It was no longer as empty as before. Let the gold in my vault not linger, but at least the old books, candlesticks and various utensils from the Black mansion were pleasing to the eye. The goblin's eyes sometimes ran over my possessions, and then he was literally overwhelmed by different emotions. Admiration and anger, contempt and obvious thoughtfulness. Lately, I had gradually begun to distinguish the expressions on the faces of the little people, which was not surprising, considering how often I had to see them. Carefully picking up two black boxes from the floor, which were themselves restraining artefacts, I left the room — the safe — and, waiting for the large stone door to close, headed back to my guide.
"Do you still require our services?" Their politeness, combined with their crooked grins, walked a fine line between mockery and contempt. Pulling myself together, I once again suppressed my irritation and looked around the hall. The ritual items and potions I needed were in place. The rest was now in my hands.
"No. Leave me." Another glance told me a lot about the goblin's intentions. There was a literal desire for me to fail the ritual. After all, if I died, there would be no heirs to whom I could leave my property. And, accordingly, the bank would acquire the right to use all the items stored in my locker at its discretion. I decided to write a will after the ritual. On principle. At least I'll leave everything to Harry Potter. Let the famous boy get an unexpected inheritance...
Catching myself thinking such silly thoughts, I decided not to die. And before today's crazy ritual, such thoughts were not the most appropriate. Placing the box with the Peverell wand on the stone slab, he began to undress. Putting his usual things in the farthest corner of a chest intended for such things, he began to smear his body with a special compound. It wasn't even a potion, but a special infusion that was needed to cleanse the body before rituals like today's. When his skin began to literally shine, he put down the flask and finally moved on to the main action.
The Ritual of Thanksgiving. It is performed at different times of the year. It can be dedicated to both deities and departed souls. It has good prerequisites for gaining a patron or learning important information. However, to do this, you need to choose the perfect gift and the perfect recipient. Let's hope I've made the right choice.
"In all seasons, to the quiet whisper of souls, your footsteps walk on sinful earth. In your greatness, you are multifaceted, just in all your decisions. You come in white robes, stopping time. Accept the gift of life, which will find solace at the end of its life in the Grey Limits." I had to move closer to the slab, open the box, and place the elderberry stick on the cold surface of the stone. The more I waited for a decision, the colder everything around me became. Despite the special potions, my body was already beginning to lose sensation.
"Shh-shh-shh," a white, translucent snake emerged from inside the slab and swallowed the ancient artefact whole.
"Oh," surprise overwhelmed me, and I did the most foolish thing I could have done: I looked into the creature's eyes.
"A bright ambulance interior and a clearly lifeless body bouncing around on our familiar road bumps. Then events seemed to rewind in fast forward: the morgue, the funeral, the tearful faces of relatives. And a little further away, beyond the graves, a blurred dark silhouette."
The air in my lungs seemed to be running out, and I couldn't breathe because of the enormous pressure. Another flash before my eyes filled the darkness that had fallen after the vision.
"There were flashes of light, and it was quite gloomy outside, but more from the clouds than the late hour. Black whirlwinds of Devourers continued to move across the square in front of the castle. Corpses of wizards in white masks, the remains of magical creatures, and the red stains of Auror robes were visible. A battle was raging around him, and the dome above Hogwarts was shattered. Before his eyes was the frozen, ugly face with bald patches in the red hair. Dead?"
"Why did I, Mordred, decide to participate in this battle?" The snake was gone. The edges of the hall were still covered with frost from the power of the Eternal Bride. My hands were shaking like an alcoholic's. I reached for two vials of potions, designed specifically for my mortal body's encounter with such power. Staggering constantly, I got up from the floor, my knuckles and knees bloodied. I didn't even remember when I had fallen. My body gradually began to warm up, and I examined the stove. It was perfectly clean, without any hint of the recent events. I mentally try to banish the second image from my mind. Say what you will, but knowing where you are going to die is a useful thing. I wonder if it is possible to change events? And if not, what is the value of such knowledge?
My body shakes slightly, and I glance at my clothes, but I can't get dressed now. I have to perform a bloodless sacrifice. And, unfortunately, these two rituals must be performed in succession. So it was written in a treatise by O. Black, nicknamed "The Merry One." For the ability to make bad jokes during the most complex rituals.
The "bloodless sacrifice" had been collected long ago, and Lord's crucifix was perfect for this purpose. I had to open the box, but I didn't take out the medallion. The streams would reach it anyway. And I didn't want to touch such a thing at all.
"With hope for blessings, I bring the Bloodless Sacrifice. May those who accept such payment respond. Amore det Arsia." – As soon as the last spell fell on the altar, confirming my intentions, magic literally swirled around me. Closing and opening my eyes for a moment, I realised that I had hit the mark, and hit it hard. Several entities responded to the call. What had Volodik done to them all that they were so eager to get this piece of my soul? Inhuman glances converged on me, and a wave of cold ran down my spine, followed by heat.
"Decide, mortal," — the voice made me want to crawl into the furthest corner and never perform rituals again. Well, the Devourers would find me, torture me and kill me. But here... How would the discontent of such creatures affect me? To my left stood the Lady in White. I suspected that she had never been to this place twice so quickly. There was a dark silhouette next to her, and no matter how hard I looked, I couldn't make out anything else. The last one was a woman of astonishing, inhuman beauty. I was so overwhelmed with delight that I couldn't breathe. Before the other two could express their discontent, I was thrown straight onto the slab, and something cracked inside me.
"The victim is a piece of the soul of a living magician that has been forcibly torn away. I offer it with hope for your favour...
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