Chapter 23 Heart-to-heart conversations. (Part 3)

Hogwarts is a big castle, but it's filled with children,and it's very difficult to hide something from them. In a way, Voldemort was counting on this moment when he hid his horcrux. Hiding something at Hogwarts from the children is very difficult. If you need to hide something, you will need to take it into account.

I found the horcrux in the place where it should be, sort of. He didn't touch it. For myself, I have already decided that the canonical history satisfies me in many ways. I'll fix some places, but... but I won't redraw everything and everything. However, now I have no sane weapons against such artifacts.

Below Hogwarts lies the body of a thousand-year-old basilisk. The decision to go and get him required the involvement of Potter. Now I could turn to her, no contact was established. I wasn't her friend, but it wouldn't come as a surprise. At the same time, the materials obtained will cover my needs for weapons against horcruxes. The fire of hell? No, no, not within the walls of Hogwarts, too dangerous under any circumstances.

I couldn't catch Potter alone. She was always in the company of one of the golden trio, whether it was Granger or Weasley.

"Potter —" I said to the heroine in the hallway, " we have a one-on-one conversation.

"I have no secrets from my friends," Henrietta said proudly, looking back at her escort.

"You don't," I said, " but Dumbledore and I might."

I screwed the headmaster for the weight, and it worked. The director was the authority of everyone in the golden trio. After a moment's hesitation, Granger pulled Weasley with her, leaving us to talk privately.

'Come on, Ron,' said Hermione, ' Henrietta will tell us later, if that's possible.'

When I was alone, I didn't tell Potter everything at once, but first led her to the Rescue Room. This place I thought I was protected from eavesdroppers and bystanders.

"The headmaster is a busy man," I began from a distance, as Potter settled herself comfortably in her chair. The view of the Rescue Room now corresponded to the Gryffindor living room. "About Sirius Black, Dumbledore warned me not to jump to conclusions.

— Is that all you want to say?" Potter asked, somewhat irritated. There was resentment in her words: "How so? She's a heroine, and the director doesn't have time to talk to her. And I had the time."

"Not Harry Potter, — I said, a little gruffly. — The situation with Sirius concerns me as much as it concerns you, after all, he is my father. Besides, Dumbledore told me to help you if you needed it, so you can count on me if you need me."

"Hmm," Henrietta said, eyeing me up and down. There were a lot of different things in the look, from "Dumbledore said" to "he has secrets".

"You don't have to look like that. You are, of course, a heroine, but it is easier and more convenient for the director to perform many actions through subordinates. Well, if the director had told you the same thing, what would have changed?

"Well, let's say," Potter began to calm down, " but what's the secret?" That's about what you've already told me on your own behalf. The only thing that's changed for me is that you used to be the son of a traitor, and now you're the director's confidant.

"I need to get something out of the Secret Room," I said.

My move was designed to make going to the Chamber of Secrets seem like an errand for Dumbledore, as was the mystery surrounding it, but I wouldn't have to lie outright. Well, I did it. Potter didn't ask any questions.

Together we went to the entrance she knew. "Open up," in the serpent's tongue, flying on my pre-stored broomsticks down the aisle to the Secret Chamber. The collection of tusks and skins. The poison and the flesh have already deteriorated. No, they weren't rotten, but it was no longer possible to use what was left for potions or alchemy. However, the bones I also collected will go for different artifacts. After flying a little more along the corridors-pipes, I found a couple more skins that the snake had dropped earlier during the molt.

I risked the trust of Potter a little, but it was definitely worth the risk, and the trust could then be won back, hard, but possible. I wasn't going to rob Henrietta, and I was going to pay for her trophies, but I couldn't say it directly, because I would get paid in due course. It was her nature to expect that she would not cooperate with me if it was my initiative.

"Some artifacts will be made from what I've gathered," I explained to Potter. — You'll need some of them later."

— So the director will make some artifacts out of it for me?" Potter asked.

"The director?" I asked, surprised. — In Britain, not many artefaction. The director may be one of them, but no one knows about it.

Don't worry about it, " I continued, admiring Potter's surprised expression. — Just know that when you need something important, you'll have it."

After warning Henriette to keep quiet about our trip to the Chamber of Secrets, we parted. To repay her in full, with services and artifacts, such a step was dictated to me by my conscience, and to some extent by the fear of a possible response from magic. In the event that my machinations are discovered, the claims from Potter may be quite serious. Even if I do, the damage to my reputation will be irreparable.

Having gone with Potter for nishtyaki, I calmed down a little, relaxed. Research into the search for a new potion was going well, even if the results were still zero, but I still hoped that they would be soon. There's still plenty of time before the Blister-on-the-Muzzle resurgence, Dumbledore has promoted me in his hand-everything is just fine. And then, out of nowhere, Sirius appeared.

Well, yes, a big dog running around the castle is generally inconspicuous, for example, Hagrid has a dog, and Fluff even lived in Hogwarts for a while.

I didn't think long. Assuming my animagus form, which was exactly the same as the Tramp, I went out to meet Sirius. The mood at that moment was quite cheerful, which recently in a castle surrounded by dementors was generally rare, and the mood in my animagus form turned out to be playful. Jumping and growling, I nudged the Tramp a couple of times with my paw.

At first, the Tramp growled at me, but seeing my playful mood and smelling the smell… What's there to think about? It's all clear, even if he never saw me, but he recognized me immediately. Smells don't lie, usually.

After waiting for the recognition effect, when this dog no longer growled at me, but only backed away, eyes bulging, I took on a human form.

"Remember that cute Iris you knocked up?" I asked, realizing that the nickname "Pretty Girl" could have been given to more than just Iris.

I was pretty sure Sirius knew who it was, and he could even remember Iris by my scent. Dogs have their own methods of identification, they do not need passports and certificates, sniffed — found out. Sirius took on a human form, too, and continued to stare at me.

"You're big news to me," Sirius finally managed to say — " but in any case, I'm innocent.

— I don't know exactly what you're talking about, me, or why you were put in Azkaban, "I grinned," but I haven't pressed charges yet. Why are you here? I asked, trying to imitate Dumbledore's tone.

"I escaped from Azkaban to punish the real traitor responsible for the Potters 'deaths," Sirius replied. — As for you and your mother, it was her decision. I need to think about this whole situation. It takes time.

— Did you say 'traitor'?" I decided to clarify.

"Yes," said Black, " the traitor is Peter Pettigrew. He was our friend.

What followed was Sirius 'account of the friendship of the four Gryffindors, of the prophecy, of Fidelius, and of the betrayal...

" Don't stop me from taking my revenge, " Sirius demanded at the end of the story.

"I won't interrupt, but a live Pettigrew is proof of your innocence," I tried to appeal to Sirius ' mind. — If you bring the traitor to justice, you will be acquitted."

"I have no right to blame the murder of a traitor on anyone else," Black said stubbornly. — I'll catch him myself, charge him for his treachery, and kill him."

I could tell from Sirius ' speech that he wasn't quite himself. Azkaban left a deep mark on the mind of the last Black. Although, I can't be sure that he was completely normal before that.

Realizing that Sirius wanted to push back the decision on my question, just like Dumbledore, he decided to get something from his biological father. What? Blood! This stuff doesn't know how to lie, and I had some hopes for Sirius ' blood in breaking into the mansion on Grimmauld. That's just how to ask?

I didn't think about it and tried it on for long, because if Dumbledore gave me his blood, then my own father did… What should I be afraid of?

He didn't give me blood, no references to Dumbledore or promises to swear an oath helped, Sirius just didn't trust me. If I were his friend, he would give me anything…

I knew from my conversation with Sirius that I shouldn't count on him. He had no joy in my existence, no desire to take care of me, no responsibility for his offspring. In addition, I realized that there is another potential Black in the castle, or rather a potential one. At Hufflepuff, a year younger than me, there is a certain Megan Murphy, whose smell is similar to the smell of Sirius. It doesn't even look like... it's hard to explain. In my animagus form, I know for a fact that she is Sirius ' daughter, as soon as I recognize his scent, I know it immediately. Before that, Meghan's scent had just seemed strange and vaguely familiar.

Maybe I should have made Sirius happy with my daughter. Then he had no children at all, and then suddenly there were two at once. But magicians also have methods of contraception.

After thinking a little, I decided to spit on the canon, in the sense that I do not look back at it constantly. Let him go on his own, and I'll go my own way. He is both Canon and Sirius. If Sirius suddenly stays alive, then it's fine, no-it's not a big deal.

While I was busy studying and searching for the potion, things went on as usual. Some students said that they had seen a dog at Hogwarts, and the search for Black continued, both by Black and by Black himself.

I found the potion, not invented it. One of those recipes that were considered fake, unexpectedly gave the desired result. The potion was considered a curiosity in the field of potion making. All magical transformations during cooking took place as expected, the potion at different stages of readiness changed color, emitted gases, bubbled, thickened and liquefied again, but in the end, the effect of taking the potion was absent. The author described everything in detail, what and how should happen as it was brewed, and at that time many people tried to brew this potion, despite the fact that the article was in the category of curiosities and practical jokes. However, the fullness of the joke could only be appreciated by someone like me, who has a set of gifts from specific features in the field of blood magic and mind magic. The potion was real, not fake.

In my dream, I was walking around Hogwarts, and there were not too many differences, you would think that this was the school of the present time, but in my dream, my name was Albus Dumbledore. When I woke up, my mood jumped to an unprecedented height. After all, the fake potion that I decided to make and test just for the sake of relaxation, the tension from work became too tedious, turned out to be real.

To hide my luck from Snape, I flipped through the same edition for a few more pages to find a potion that promised to awaken some magic, move into the mental space, or something similar. Finding the right one, keeping a serious look, I began my next experiments. Snape was minding his own business and wasn't distracted by me.

"Well, that's interesting," I heard him say, and Snape closed the distance between us in three long strides. Picking up the magazine, he flipped back a few pages, stopping at the article with the "fake" potion.

— It doesn't work, does it?" Snape exclaimed, either in affirmation or in question.

"Uh, actually, what's going on, Professor?" I asked.

The professor frowned at me.

"The thing is, Mr. Blair," the potioneer said, " you're a very mediocre occlumentalist. Your natural defenses are very strong, but they do not interfere with the superficial legilimency, which is based more on the ability to read involuntary gestures and facial expressions.

The professor was right, I skipped through many exercises to improve memory, took very little from the oclumental practices, putting this topic off for later. His face and body as oloment I did not own. Such a field as acting and imitation of emotions remained outside of my interests. Therefore, I was able to portray a very bad calmness on my face. Snape had definitely noticed something in my behavior.

"I know for a fact," said Snape, "that this' alien memory ' potion doesn't work.

Snape looked at me questioningly.

"Professor, you may have asked me a question," I said, trying not to smile, " and now you're waiting for an answer, but I don't understand what that question is. And in general, what does the potion of "someone else's memory"have to do with it?

I just had to keep playing the fool. Of course, Dumbledore will understand when the potions master reports his suspicions to him, but Snape doesn't need to know about my abilities. Let the potion remain fake for him. Yes, Snape caught me, but only because he was expecting something like this and was waiting for it. However, he can't be completely sure of his conclusions, and you can't torture me to find out for sure.

Realizing that I wasn't going to be cracked that easily, Snape slowed down.

"Okay, Blair," the Professor said — " I'll leave you alone for now.

Since then, Dumbledore's dreams have been falling one after the other, with my main focus on the combat use of spells, mentalism, and potions. The direction of the Transfiguration, artifactory and hemeralopia with all related, including the rituals, left for later. As it turned out, there was no need to take the potion again. Even after the first application, I still had a reliable trace of Dumbledore's magic, which I used to scan his memory.

The blood was not quite fresh, about a year old, so I did not recognize the old man's last plans and thoughts about himself. I found out his relationship with the previous dark lord. It was a strange and murky story. Dumbledore green de Wald polished my skills of Legilimency and mastered the ability of suggestion. Including the ideas of the common good and the creation of a new ideal world belonged to Dumbledore. Friend Green-de-Wald began to guess about something like this and worked hard on legilimency. He also gave Dumbledore a love potion in retaliation. Of course, this was Dumbledore's version, and he wasn't entirely sure about the potion's use, but it was strange to feel in love with a male friend when you preferred girls after all. They had not reached the point of intimacy, and Grindelwald had enough influence over his friend without that. That's how they were friends-enemies.

In defense of Dumbledore, we can say that he wanted to make his friend a reliable and loyal colleague,but he went too far. In general, the magical world is filled to the brim with such mistakes, children-magicians do not know how to draw a line for themselves, and apply their talents to their friends. The more gifted children are, the more serious the consequences are.

As for Sirius, in the beginning, Dumbledore simply had no time to deal with his case, and then he just forgot. No, no, then, of course, I remembered, but it was more profitable to leave Sirius where he is. Four friends of the Gryffindor showed excessive independence and sometimes brought problems, almost more than good.

I noticed that even in my thoughts I began to defend the old man, his point of view on various events became almost native to me. He found excuses to justify certain unpleasant actions of Dumbledore, using the ideas of the "common good", and high goals. I decided to take a break from viewing the old man's memory. It turned out that it wasn't so easy, I just couldn't have simple dreams. In order not to see dreams from Dumbledore's memory, I had to make serious efforts and "order" a dream from the memory of Sirius or Orion, otherwise the" movie " about Dumbledore continued.

Having identified the right potion, I fell out of the life of the school a little. I didn't care about all of Bati's adventures. Dumbledore's life was full of interesting moments. He had killed his own sister, but somehow he had convinced himself that Grindelwald had killed her. Isn't that weird? Here I can clearly see in the memory of the blood, how the deadly curse released by Albus kills the girl, and in the following memories, the curse is sent by Grindelwald. At first, I even fell into misunderstandings, but then I realized that this was the work of an experienced legilimenta, or a wizard gifted in legilimency.

I also saw Albus ' plans for the Potters. Albus intended to merge James anyway, he didn't really like the Marauders, and James in particular. As for Lily, the director wanted to keep her, James Potter was enough for the victim, but the story turned out a little differently. However, Albus considered the circumstances very fortunate. Unfortunately, the director had neither the time, nor the energy, nor the desire to deal with little Henrietta. So Albus gave the child to the Dursleys, instructing them to treat the girl more strictly, which they did to the best of their understanding and inclinations.

I didn't even watch my studies at that time. The dreams gave me so much information that even the most vivid dreams from the face of Orion could not be compared. Yes, I tried to make" orders " of dreams on the most interesting and necessary topics now, but one thing clung to another and pulled the third. Constantly walking around with a swollen head has become the norm for me. My poor health was noted not only by the dean,but also by Snape, which in itself means something.

Both professors, who are my personal teachers, have noticed great progress in my disciplines. Flitwick noted that I became much easier to cast spells and almost completely switched to non-verbal spells. In addition, I have brought the haste spell to mind. Even though it was impossible to cast magic while using it, it could still be quite useful.

"Unfortunately, it's useless in combat, — I said to Flitwick. "The acceleration spell is broken when you try something else."

"No, no, Arrakis —" the half-goblin smiled. "You're wrong. This spell will turn over all the achievements in the field of magical combat. With this spell, enchanted daggers and bracers with built-in shields will come back into fashion. After all, as it was, bracers with shields protect a small area from simple spells, rarely reflect more than three hits, and are very expensive. Artifact edged weapons were interesting only to collectors and true connoisseurs, in battle daggers were almost useless. To get within striking distance under a hail of spells, you need to outnumber the enemy by an order of magnitude. Accordingly, such a step, with the cutting of the enemy with a dagger — is rather a mockery, a show of superiority and just an extra risk.

"It's quite another matter," Flitwick continued, " if you start moving and thinking five times faster under the spell. Even five seconds is enough to close the distance and strike. Bracers with shield charms are not needed as the main defense, but as an additional one, against random side attacks.

"Yes, I see," I agreed.

I was finally getting a patronus. It was the dog again.

Snape, for his part, noted that my knowledge of his subject made a "qualitative step forward". His face might not have changed from its usual sour expression, but inside he was pleased, taking my progress personally.

Everyone went home from Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays, and Flitwick and I went to the championships in France. I don't even know what the rating and status of this tournament was. We can say that the "duelists" had their own club of interests. Everyone knew everyone, if not by sight, then by hearsay. In addition to the European Championship, there were also such less significant tournaments, where the ministry and the MCM did not extend their influence. It can be said that the competition was semi-official, the influence and role of the ministries were scanty, and the organization was handled by the "club".

A large building on the outskirts of Paris was filled with magicians from all over Europe. A lot of people greeted Flitwick and asked about me, too. The professor answered gravely, introduced me as his pupil, and publicly praised my progress, promising to give me the title of apprentice of enchantment after the holidays.

The half-goblin himself assigned me three duels, choosing my opponents from a large list of participants. There weren't many people like me who passed out of the competition, so you could choose your opponents almost without looking back.

The competition was held for three days. On the first day, there were duels on a challenge, in which I had to participate. On the second day, the qualifying duels were scheduled. Well, on the last day of the competition, there was the final part of the fight for the "Christmas Cup".

Of the three duels assigned to me, only one was heavy, the last one. As a result of a hard struggle, I managed to turn a protracted confrontation into a draw. The opponent surprised me with non-standard moves and a great reaction. After the duel, my opponent, a Frenchman, came up to the professor and me, praised me, and shook our hands. I was a little hurt that I couldn't win, but the professor calmed me down.

"You don't know, but you dueled with the reigning European champion," Flitwick said with a satisfied grunt. — Most likely, the cup of this Christmas event will go to your last opponent here. I'm happy with you.

Flitwick had taken the last two rooms available for us at a nearby hotel, and we were staying there. Although the main goal of the trip was already achieved, we did not leave, we stayed for the remaining two days of the competition.

The professor looked like he was in the water, and the Frenchman took the cup.

On my return to Hogwarts, the professor immediately handed me the ring of the Apprentice of enchantment. No special examination was required, the title was awarded by the master and registered with the local Ministry of Magic. No festivities were planned, either.

Then my studies were conducted according to the previous scheme in the already familiar rhythm. Constant practice of spells of different directions, from combat to household, casting spells on objects, strengthening spells with runes and potions, incantations and rituals — all this is on the part of Flitwick. On the part of Snape, the constant brewing of potions and the involvement of me as an assistant in classes with the first year. In addition, I prepared written works for the defense.

It could very well be that I missed the mess with the werewolf, Potter, Sirius, and the others in the shrieking hut. I didn't have any special plans, just to insure Potter and Sirius in the most extreme case, and to catch the Pettigrew rat.

In a battle with a werewolf, I wouldn't have been able to go unnoticed if I had intervened, so I dragged on until the end. In the end, it turned out that I would just be late if something went wrong. But I was able to catch the rat when Pettigrew escaped. One stupefy, and I, once again hiding under the disillusionment spell, threw the carcass of a rat into a previously prepared cage. Next, as in the program of the play, follows the pa-de-de of the Tramp with the werewolf and a similar form of action, but with a different message from the previous one, the performance of Potter with Sirius. A mighty patronus from Potter-number-two, and the dementors, flying in ragged rags in the sky, fly away in the fuck ... away.

"Well, that's all," I thought as I approached the headmaster's office.

Yes, I decided to give the rat to the director. Earlier, I had doubts about Pettigrew, what should I do with him? But now, I knew the director very well and could predict his actions with almost one hundred percent probability. If until now the director would have been more likely to be disturbed by Sirius at large, then now, whether Sirius was free, imprisoned in Azkaban, or running away from the authorities, it made no difference to him. The main thing is that it is alive. Of course, if Sirius had justified himself to the authorities, or with the help of someone else, but not the Director, then the old man would have lost some of Black's trust.

When I gave the rat to Dumbledore, I gave him a useful gift, and at the same time showed my loyalty. It's still too early for me to be independent, so I'll have to wait for the old man to get out of the game.

The gargoyle, without waiting for the password, which I didn't know, moved to the side, clearing the passage. Stepping onto the familiar spiral staircase, I quickly ascended to the principal's office.

— Here and-and-And... — and I almost called the Director of Albus. "This is Peter Pettigrew in his animagus form —" I said, placing the rat cage on the table.

The old man stroked his beard. "Everyone thought he was dead."

Albus stared at the animal for a moment, thinking about something. I stood still and didn't interfere, giving the old man time to make a new plan.

"So it's probably not Sirius Black's fault," the old man said, as if thinking aloud. "Sirius was in Azkaban for the Pettigrew murder, in case you didn't know. But, since Pettigrew is alive, then the other crimes attributed to Sirius may have been wrongly incriminated?

"Sir," I said to Dumbledore, " in any case, a living Pettigrew is sufficient reason to review the Sirius case. Justice must prevail, even years later.

"All right, my boy," the director said, " I'll soon initiate a review of your father's case. If he is innocent, then his criminal record will be removed from him and, most likely, some compensation will be given… But, "the director added," a lot of powerful people won't like it. Too big mistakes… The same Bartemius Crouch will be very hurt. You may be attacked by various powerful wizards, so it's best not to tell anyone about your involvement in the capture of Pettigrew.

"I understand, Director," I said, nodding my head in agreement.

"All right, go," Albus said, " I'll take care of the rest."

Heeh… All the dividends from my "feat", the director decided to take for himself. But his arguments are quite weighty. He's right about the wizards ' attacks, especially if Sirius still won't recognize me.

Next, Potter and Co saved the hippogriff and Sirius. Dumbledore promised Potter something that made her glow from the inside out. Well, I knew what he could promise her, of course. But he feigned surprise when the Daily Prophet published an article about the complete acquittal of Sirius Black and the execution of Peter Pettigrew. This happened on the last day before the holidays.

Mnn ... yes, Dumbledore's promise to Henrietta that she wouldn't have to go to the Dursleys ' was fulfilled.

I had huge plans for the summer. Snape decided to give me the exam to become a journeyman. In addition, there was the protection of skill by enchantment. I had to bet on the final of the Quidditch championship. Think about your plans for next year.

Now the Dark Lord will be resurrected by someone else, because Pettigrew is dead.