Chapter 17
Panic attacks are sudden, irrational surges of anxiety triggered by a memory reacting to a specific thought or event.
Simon understood this perfectly.
Moreover, he knew the approximate mechanism of this particular mental state—how a trigger is formed, how the reaction is launched, and how the cerebral cortex fails under the onslaught of the limbic system. No mysticism involved—purely the work of nerves and the brain.
But that didn't make it any easier.
The key word in that definition is "irrational," meaning it defies simple logical analysis.
You want to control the attack; you try to dismantle a localized unpleasant memory into its components, trying to convince your own psyche that this specific recollection no longer matters, yet you lose anyway.
One accidentally "read" memory right before falling asleep, and that's it—not a wink of sleep to be had. Your limbs curl up, you want to scream, and an anxious knot of shame or fear takes up residence inside you.
One way or another, everyone has experienced a panic attack in a mild form.
It is a different matter entirely when anxiety attacks begin to influence your behavior and decision-making.
From a rational standpoint, the best solution in his situation would be to notify the head of law enforcement, who coincidentally was seeing his youngest daughter off to school. Furthermore, there was every reason to assume that Harry Potter should be a "conscientious" and perhaps even non-corrupt official. People change with age, of course, but Simon was almost a hundred percent certain that Harry could be trusted even thirty years later. This was a leap of pure intuition, which, as Simon had recently realized, possessed a more mystical nature.
However, the moment he moved toward him, Simon was shaken to his core by the memory of a world suddenly gone off the rails—a world that had decided to remove a paradox in the crudest way possible: by simply killing everyone. Perhaps it had even taken the whole world with it, if the change in the length of the day was anything to go by.
And this panic attack—which, for the record, was based on very valid reasons for fear—prevented Simon from carrying out his plan.
After all, the numerous "jumps" between the two time intervals could serve as proof that Simon possessed a kind of "death insurance," at least in his timeline, meaning there was room for experimentation and risk.
But it is one thing to talk about potential death over a cup of tea when it doesn't concern you, and quite another to sacrifice yourself for the sake of obtaining higher-quality data. On paper—die and die again—but in reality...
In short, he still didn't want to die for nothing. Fortunately or unfortunately, Simon had not yet lost his instinct for self-preservation.
And that self-preservation instinct was telling him right now that he didn't actually have any alternatives. You didn't complain to Harry—that's your business—but how are you going to deal with a fully armed squad that will be storming the Hogwarts Express in a couple of hours?
"Hi," Lily smiled confidently. "Are you a first-year too?"
"Something like that," Simon gave a crooked smile.
He actually felt an absurd sense of "Groundhog Day," where Bill Murray repeats the same day over and over.
His situation wasn't much different, except it was expanded to include "breaks in another time."
"My name is Lily Potter," she introduced herself with a smile. "And yours?"
Simon cast a wary glance at Lily's suitcase, which the very first time had slid off due to the train's jolting and landed right on his foot—a typical manifestation of his aura of misfortune. This time, he had sat slightly to the side in advance, and no jolting followed. This was an interesting detail! At the very least, it was a sign that his "misfortune" could indeed influence the events happening around him.
In the ordinary world—even the magical one!—it is impossible to verify a coincidence after the fact. A coincidence is just that—one thing being the consequence of another, building an unbreakable and logical chain of events.
But if you can travel through time and compare... only then can you compare everything under ideal conditions.
Though "ideal" was a strong word, since Simon did not yet fully grasp his influence from the "past."
Under Lily's surprised gaze, Simon lay down on the floor and spotted the fateful "3.141" under the seat. Nothing had changed.
Simon gave himself an internal nod. Nothing should have changed, since he had never managed to get onto the Hogwarts Express back then—there simply hadn't been the time or the opportunity.
Yet the absence of sharp jolting in the train this time might not be a result of his "aura of misfortune," but a simple butterfly effect. Although, if a butterfly effect from his actions was present, any changes should be much more noticeable—even to the point of completely altering the birth of children since ninety-one.
In short, it was strange and confusing—as always.
Simon brushed off his robes and sat back down with a perfectly calm face.
"Pierre Simon Laplace," he introduced himself calmly. "You can just call me Pierre."
"Are you French?" her eyes lit up.
"No, my father was just an idiot," he answered automatically.
He disliked his first name, precisely because of his father, but he decided to introduce himself by that name anyway. Why?
Because he needed mechanisms to help "delimit" the two timelines. Theoretically, a different name shouldn't serve as even a minimal safeguard, but it was better than nothing. Perhaps it would even be a psychological trigger for him—in the past he was Simon, in the present he was Pierre. Just to better realize which cards to play and not lose his mind.
These two boys had completely different tasks. Simon had to overcome his own weakness and begin studying magic, while Pierre... had to survive. And once again, figure everything out.
"A friend of mine once said that the Hogwarts Express is a magical place. Often, you meet your lifelong friends right here."
"My aunt told me the exact same thing!" Lily nearly jumped with joy. "And she, you know... er, knows her stuff."
"Does she hold a fairly high post in the Ministry?" Pierre asked, as if out of politeness.
"How did you know?" her eyes widened.
"It's definitely Hermione! One hundred percent!" the little detective inside him triumphed.
It was quite logical for Lily to want to keep her connections quiet. Her father was the head of law enforcement, her "aunt" was the Minister for Magic. She was practically the princess of the British wizarding world! And not everyone wants to brag about their connections, especially girls who just want to make friends.
"Well..." Pierre tried to smile as sincerely as possible. "Then let's be friends—from now and forever."
"Oh..." Lily was a bit shy. "Is that allowed? Like... right away?"
"What's the problem, exactly? I need a friend, you need a friend."
He felt a bit awkward about his desire to use the girl. But he wasn't doing it just for the sake of it, was he? He wanted to save everyone from the attack!
Meanwhile, the girl shook his hand carefully, almost solemnly.
"Great," Simon nodded. "Now we shall engage in a quintessential friendly activity—sorting out the problems of one of us. More specifically, my problems."
"What?" Lily blinked in confusion.
"I'm Muggle-born, but due to certain circumstances, I've run into some trouble. Can you answer a few questions for me?"
"What kind?"
"Purely theoretically, could Muggles with weapons and a stable means of communication attack the train?"
"The Hogwarts Express?" Lily was even more surprised. "Probably not... But honestly, I don't know much about that. We're both first-years! What kind of questions are these?"
"Could your older brothers answer that question?"
"Oh, forget them," Lily snorted. "You won't get any help from them with their stupid jokes!"
Typical younger sister behavior. Problematic!
"But..." Lily gave him a complicated look. "Do you really need to know this, Pierre?"
"It's a matter of life and death," Simon answered seriously.
"Then..." Lily stole a few glances at him and smiled cheerfully. "We need an expert! Come on!"
The girl took his hand and ran out of the carriage, completely forgetting that their trunks were left behind.
Lily checked the carriage numbers with some confidence until she stopped at the one she wanted. Knocking a couple of times, she opened the door.
In the carriage, there was an older girl and a boy their age. And they were...
"All redheads," Simon muttered. "I'm surrounded by redheads! And Weasleys, to boot!"
Lily's hair was a darker shade, though definitely reddish. But the new characters had a far too familiar hue.
"This is my new friend—Pierre Simon Laplace!" Lily introduced him. "And these are my cousins—Rose and Hugo Granger-Weasley. Rose is in her third year, and Hugo is a first-year, just like us!"
Granger-Weasley, for God's sake!
Firstly, it was now clear who wore the pants in that relationship. A woman who pressured her husband into keeping her own surname and making it double for the children was definitely "strong." Well, that fits Hermione, even if they had only known each other for two days.
Secondly, he was a hundred percent sure that Ron had snagged the Minister for Magic as his wife. Purely theoretically, it could have been Fred, or George, or Percy, or any number of other Weasleys, but... his intuition or "prophetic" gift helped there.
Hugo was almost an exact copy of his father. The looks, the hair, and that slightly naive expression.
Rose, although she had that same "cursed" hair color as all the Weasleys, resembled her mother more. She held a book in her hand that she had been diligently memorizing before their arrival; her clothes were perfectly clean, unlike the messy Hugo, who took after his father. And she had inherited her mother's pretty face; even the freckles didn't ruin a thing.
If Lily didn't look like her father at all, except for the green eyes, then Rose and Hugo were like reflections of their parents.
"Nice to meet you," Rose smiled sweetly.
"Ron, move over," Simon tried to squeeze onto the seat but met surprised stares. "Um... Hugo! Yes, Hugo-Not-Ron, move over."
Lily sat down next to Rose. They got straight to the point.
"Purely theoretically, could Muggles with weapons and a stable means of communication attack the train?"
"That's impossible," Rose answered confidently. "The train is protected by Muggle-Repelling Charms—Muggles can't even get near it."
Rose's tone brooked no doubt. She spoke like someone who knew exactly what she was talking about.
"Muggle-Repelling Charms—is that like an illusion?"
"Muggles don't just 'not approach or see it'—they simply don't perceive the train as a target. An illusion is when you see something other than what is there. Here, Muggles can't even 'focus' on the object."
"How does that manifest?" Simon began to ask clarifying questions. "Do they just... I don't know, walk 'right through' it?"
"No," Rose shook her head. "If a Muggle walks toward, say, the train, they suddenly 'remember' they forgot to turn off the stove, or they're late for an urgent meeting, or they just suddenly decide to change their route."
"I saw ordinary people in Diagon Alley recently," Simon said. "How did they get there, if by all accounts the Leaky Cauldron can't be seen?"
"Those are different levels of charms," she met his question with confidence. "The Leaky Cauldron is designed so that the parents of wizards can accompany their children. That's a weak level of charms; to overcome it, you just need to have the Leaky Cauldron pointed out to you. After the first reminder, a Muggle can no longer ignore the object's existence."
"And the Hogwarts Express?"
"The Hogwarts Express is a major site. Just as important as the Ministry of Magic. You can't bring a Muggle here even if you really want to. Purely theoretically, you could pick them up by their hands and feet, but they would just lose consciousness or be unable to move."
"Whoa..."
Rose meant that if a person without the Gift found themselves in an object they couldn't perceive, their brain would start to malfunction.
An interesting idea for a prison, by the way. Though no human rights law would allow such a thing—turning criminals into functional vegetables.
"And Hogwarts itself?"
"At Hogwarts, even that is impossible," Rose giggled. "There are the ancient charms of the Founders—a person without the Gift can't even enter. More precisely, the place has effectively 'vanished' from the world of ordinary people."
It wasn't entirely intuitive regarding Hogwarts, but that question could be asked later. Finally, he had a reliable source of information! Rose, compared to Percy, was a heavenly angel! Well, a magical one.
Rose's personality was significantly softer than Hermione's! Even though there was a three-year difference between them—which at that age is a true chasm.
"Let's imagine, purely theoretically," Simon tried to say as gently as possible, realizing the strangeness of his own proposition. "Let's imagine I'm a Muggle—and I want to attack the Hogwarts Express to kidnap all the children."
"That's..." Rose looked at him strangely. "That's a rather odd thought experiment, Pierre..."
"Let's just imagine," Simon huffed. "How would I achieve it? Given the level of charms, I wouldn't be able to just point out the train so that the attackers—say, 'terrorists'—could perceive this place. And if they can't perceive this place, then they can't commit their crimes."
Rose truly thought about it for the first time. It was clear—her brain worked just as well as Hermione's. Not as well as his, of course, but...
"Within the hypothetical framework—you couldn't. At this level of charms—like on our train—even knowing the train exists wouldn't help. Because the charms don't act on a conscious level, but deeper—on decision-making."
This didn't align at all with the behavior of the operatives who had attacked the train the first time. They had acted quite deliberately and efficiently—identifying targets, maintaining contact with a communications center, and making fairly balanced decisions based on the situation.
"And outside the hypothetical framework?"
"That's easier," Rose said seriously. "You would just have to dispel the Muggle-Repelling Charms. In other words—destroy them."
"And how feasible is that?"
"Practically impossible," Rose answered after a short delay. "Those are very powerful charms; they would have to be removed by a large number of high-level wizards with a certain level of knowledge."
Simon snapped his fingers.
"But the train is moving at a fairly high speed."
Rose's eyes flashed with approval. She also realized that Simon liked to use his brain.
Surprisingly, Simon had found common ground with Rose almost immediately, whereas he and Hermione bumped heads every other time.
"Exactly. The train is not a static object. You can remove charms at the station, but you can't do it covertly, in front of all the seeing parents. And on the journey, the train is moving, and no matter the preparation, it would be complicated many times over. Purely theoretically, wizards could get on broomsticks, but... that's also difficult."
"And could one wizard pull that off?"
"I don't know any wizards strong enough to manage something like that. Perhaps Albus Dumbledore could have, but he's no longer alive," Rose glanced at her friend who was listening intently. "Lily?"
"I doubt my dad could," she shrugged noncommittally. "He said himself that there's a huge gap between him and Albus Dumbledore. But anyway, that's not Dad's specialty! He catches Dark wizards and stuff!"
"Yeah, yeah," Hugo rolled his eyes. "We know how cool your dad is."
"So, it's practically unfeasible?" Simon muttered.
"It would seem so," Rose shrugged. "Actually, it's easy to attack the Hogwarts Express, but it would have to be done by wizards."
"I heard that the Death Eaters took the train back in the nineties," Hugo put in. "Dad told me!"
"Wizards," Simon nodded. "But not Muggles."
He had gained useful knowledge, but it hadn't clarified anything.
Something was wrong with this whole story.