Flitwick was gradually becoming a problem – apart from the Sides' intolerance towards goblins. No matter how you look at it, the little bastard was in my department and started quietly putting a spoke in my wheel. Very skilfully, I would even say professionally. I only noticed it because I was watching the bastard closely.
"... thus, the vector of Force is directed...
"Bang! Something explodes in the fireplace and my reasoning, which had gathered a crowd of equally clever people, is interrupted for obvious reasons. It's a small thing, but... Words must be said at the right time, and this time it didn't work out..."
"... Brian isn't like that," Mary said convincingly to her friend.
"Of course," Fleetwick, who was sitting nearby, joined the conversation, "and even if the guy is cheating, it doesn't mean anything.
"Do you know something?!" Mary jumped up.
"No, I just... Adult men have needs..."
The seed of doubt was sown, and Mary and Brian gradually lost the "spark" and soon broke up.
"..." "It's easy," said Filius, making a complicated wave with his wand, repeating a rather difficult spell, "Anyone can do it, if they have even a spark of talent.
And the talented but insecure Douglas Corby closes himself off."
There were not even dozens of such moments — there were hundreds in the first month. And everything was so friendly, "with the best of intentions"... No, this was definitely a saboteur who had been taught such dirty tricks for years — to calculate the moment of impact precisely and strike at the weakest point.
Trivial? No, not at all — there, a talented magician began to study without "fire," here, a promising couple whose children had been promised the brightest future by Heritage specialists broke up.
In other words, the half-breed deliberately and confidently pursued a policy of "soft genocide."
I really want to kill him, and the only thing stopping me is that I'm afraid of being exposed. Mercy? Ha! To a goblin?!
I began to seriously consider murder. The main problem was the danger of being exposed, i.e. the portraits, students, amulets belonging to Flitwick himself and the school administration.
Cast a spell... Most wizards would start inventing clever spells. Step on the Sign there, cast a simple trip spell here... And in the end, a deadly curse. Well, that would be nice... but it's more like something out of a horror story. More precisely, you could do something like that against a muggle-born wizard who is of no interest to anyone. But against Flitwick, who is covered in artefacts and is under the protection of the school administration, it's unrealistic.
A knife/crossbow/trap... also tempting, but the problem remains the same — the danger of being exposed. In addition, you have to kill very quickly (while having a reliable alibi) or somewhere in a protected place where all kinds of trackers won't sense me or the half-goblin. But where...
Stop! I think I've figured out the "where" — the Rescue Room. It can take the form of anything that is or ever was in the Castle. Accordingly, you can come up with some very interesting traps. There were and still are a great many of them — it's no coincidence that most of the rooms are sealed off. The most important thing remains: how to lure Flitwick into the trap?
First, I go to the Room of Requirement and walk back and forth in front of it for a long time, but the door still won't open. I turn on my mental powers to the max, showing images of the Altar and Flitwick on it. After a few minutes, I'm shaking from the strain, but... the door in the wall appears.
I go in — and there it is, a copy of the Hogwarts Altar, long considered either lost or closed — for some reason, this topic is taboo and cannot be discussed in English wizard society. It looks like an impressive room (about the size of a Muggle school gym), marked with numerous pentagrams, sectagrams, hexagrams, and runes, but the contours are not closed. I stand there for a few minutes in a daze, trying to remember — this is a miracle! The very idea and its implementation are the work of a genius. I try to imagine how much time it must have taken to calculate and what kind of specialists were needed... I can't even imagine! It turns out that at least two dozen specialists in different fields worked here, and not just for a year! Although... yes, Hogwarts was brilliant in its day, so it could have been...
I lie down on the Altar with some trepidation and begin to transmit the Images again — the Castle is partially intelligent after all... As it turned out, I lay there for several hours and came to my bedroom well after lights out.
I recovered after... communicating with Hogwart for almost a week, which even my classmates began to look at with concern. And the dean... But no one said anything, only the head boy approached and raised his eyebrow questioningly.
"I'll go," I said listlessly to Jacob Geller. The German nodded silently and left.
"...the director is hiding him," whispered a second-year Ravenclaw to his friend.
"... I'm telling you. No, I don't know any details — maybe it's treasure, or maybe he's going to run Hogwarts...
Fleetwick, carelessly leafing through a long-since-covered textbook on spells, immediately became alert — the half-blood's hearing was much better than that of a human. And he had been trained to pick out key words in conversations. Yes... The elders were relentless and punished severely... But if the goal was to destroy humans, he was willing to endure even more! Ha ha, his slave mother even fell in love with him, conceived under the influence of a special ritual... And she thought that he, Ghrrym Reigrs, known to humans as Filius Flitwick, loved her too! A worthless animal... Well, never mind, at the Sraggs festival, he told the Elders that he loved her too — especially her liver and right thigh with Verrag's mushroom sauce. It was a good joke, yes...
Recalling the past, the spy listened to the boys' conversation, but only understood that one of them had stumbled upon a place from where Hogwarts could be controlled. Or perhaps the castle's treasure chamber.
Grinning to himself, Ghrrym Reigrs... although he needed to teach himself to call himself Filius Flitwick even in his thoughts... the half-breed smiled his charming smile, which had taken him a long time to perfect. The headmaster, then... but then again, even allies... Ha, they really consider themselves allies of goblins, the nobodies! It's normal that they don't reveal their secrets... but it's just as normal for him to reveal theirs...
Seize control of the Castle not in a few decades, but in the near future... Yes, the chances of that are slim, although... Dippet didn't take the full Oath, and Hogwarts still recognises him as Headmaster. So maybe the Founders really did foresee something that would help control the School without unnecessary Oaths, Agreements and Vows? It seems very likely...
..."At night, yes...
"Tomorrow? No, tomorrow...
"... two days..."
I activate the destruction of the "tracker" and exhale — got it! For added effect, I reenacted the scene with the second-year students while in my room — an additional alibi, just in case. Imperius? No, not even mentalism — just a clever potion from the arsenal of the Dungeons of Horror.
I giggle nervously: a time traveller from the future, an adult wizard in a child's "skin" (and under the guise of a human, no less), a spy and saboteur (that's me) — preparing to kill an adult wizard, a spy and saboteur, a goblin in the "skin" of a human child... Complete surrealism!
There's a knock at the door.
"Yes?
"May I come in?" Ernie Smith's voice rang out.
"Come in.
The boy slips into the room, looking a little embarrassed.
"You said you'd explain to my friends if anything... Well... Is it okay if they're not just from Ravenclaw?
"Sure. Okay... I'm free tomorrow..." I look at my schedule — Runes, Arithmancy... I don't need to go to those anymore... After lunch, find a room and make a list of questions and "weak spots," preferably today.
Ernie quickly nodded and left, while I sighed sadly, sent Simon a Signal, and headed off to Quidditch practice. I may not be playing myself, but the first faculty game is coming up and practice is important, so I have to go and cheer them on. I don't feel like it, but... socialisation, I already stand out with my unusual behaviour. A little more and I'll no longer be the "life of the party" and "class leader, one of the leaders of the faculty", but, even if I'm undoubtedly the smartest, I'll be a freak... Yes, yes, what did you think? An adult mind, but a child's body, and what's more, the body of a sid... It's an explosive mixture, drawing me to philosophise, sit by the fireplace with a pipe (I've stopped hiding — they look at me askance, but say nothing) and play tag.
It's autumn, and icy drafts blow through the corridors of Hogwarts. I wonder if this was intentional when the castle was built, or if it was just considered insignificant? Or have the spells worn off?
"Hi, Rob," a first-year Slytherin girl squeaks shyly, blushing.
"Hello, Sally. How are you?"
"Everything's fine," and then, completely embarrassed, she runs off to her friends. Yes, a fan... nothing serious, it's just that girls of that age need an idol or a boyfriend. Those who have a boyfriend have it easier, but those who don't are looking for someone to fall in love with. Not on purpose, of course — it just happens that way.
As I left the gate, I was met by rain. You know the kind... when you're not sure whether to open your umbrella or ignore the drizzle. Automatically, I throw a few layers over myself — over my cloak, over my head, to keep warm, to protect me from the wind...
"What a pain," I grumble discontentedly.
"Yeah," Simon Hoff readily agrees, "I don't even want to look at the sky — it's just leaden clouds and it feels apocalyptic.
"Yeah... did you bring it?
We slowly make our way to the stadium, and I explain the "tricky" parts of my notes to my friend and potential vassal.
"Ah! With a flick, right? So it's not just a stick movement, but more like... not fencing, but like casting a fishing rod, right?
"Uh-huh... look..." I twirl the stick between my fingers, "and move your elbow... Got it?"
Simon tries to repeat it and after a few attempts he succeeds, and the grass grows quickly on a small patch of ground.
"Just don't show it to Macintosh, our heraldry expert doesn't like him," "We have to think about the consequences," I mimic him.
I imitate him well and Simon giggles; he's a funny guy. Here's the stadium, we climb onto the benches and start cheering...
Until Flewitt met Room of Requirement, there was quite a lot of shaking, although it wasn't visible on the outside. Well, considering the amount of calming potions, charms and artefacts...
"Look," the boy said in a loud whisper, "walk here three times and there it is, the door appears.
"Cool!
With that, the boys entered the Room of Requirement, and Flitwick rushed after them, hidden by the invisibility artefacts. Would the door open for a half-goblin... or not? Right now, there it was, and the boys... No one had cancelled the Imperius Curse. Of course, Dippet would later receive an alarm about the Unforgivable, but he could make excuses about sexual inclinations — they didn't stop Dumbledore from becoming a teacher... Or he could actually kill the boys...
Fletchwick barely made it to the door. It had already closed completely and even blended into the wall, but apparently not completely — it reappeared.
The wand in his left hand, prepared by Stupefy... for starters... A jerk, the door slams shut and...
"A trap," Filius managed to think as he fell from a height onto the Altar.
I hit the enemy on the head with brass knuckles; using magic is not advisable right now. He goes limp but remains conscious, although he can no longer resist. I immediately break his arms and take the wand, then break his legs and finally his fingers.
The goblin is silent, only moaning softly — partly from disorientation from the fall and blow to the head, and partly... Well, they may be enemies, but they're not cowards.
"Click, click, click, click...
I tug at the shackles on Flitwick's limbs... Fine — it's natural iron, but covered with a layer of natural silver — this is serious.
"Vzh-vzh, vzh-vzh, vzh-vzh," the lock is rusty from centuries of disuse, but it works fine, so the chains are tight and half the goblin is now lying on the altar in a starfish position. Oh yes... rummaging through the junk lying near the altar, I pick up a gag with a hole in the middle — he can breathe freely and won't choke on his vomit, but he won't be able to bite his tongue off. Fix his neck... his head...
So... first, I need to wake up the Altar... I drip my blood on several symbols, and they light up — it's like a signature, so Hogwarts will know who brought him the sacrifice.
"I, Sid and Prince of the Sids, now known as Robert John Tally, unborn descendant of non-existent parents, Child of Magic, Student of Hogwarts and its graduate. I call upon you, Soul of the Castle — answer me!
Something like... a rumbling passed through the room and something very large, friendly yet distrustful and completely inhuman touched my thoughts. I show the image of the half-goblin being sacrificed again and make a cut on his wrist.
The enemy's blood begins to flow, touching the Altar and... being absorbed into it. The castle begins to... taste it, analyse its composition...
"Approved, approved..."
The hungry golem castle, which has not been fed properly for at least a century, eagerly awaits its meal, almost... wagging its tail. Hmm, judging by the creation of the Castle, the consciousness of a hunting dog was woven into it. Over many centuries, it has changed greatly, but you can feel it, you can feel it...
"Waiting, waiting, impatience..."
The image of the Castle gives off something like... whimpering and... hands the "leash" to me.
To say that I am stunned... although no, this is not the Master's access, but the access of the Master's Friend. Hmm, not bad either, a lot can be done...
After demonstrating "Food" to Hogwarts, I make a series of cuts on Flitwick in places where the Force flows particularly noticeably. I work carefully and, honestly, despite my malice, I do not feel any pleasure from what I have done. But it must be done, so I begin to pull the skin down along the cuts...
"Ayaau!
I don't react to the enemy's attempts to jerk around, what's the point... I take out the textbook and, glancing from time to time at the pictures with explanations, expose the nerves and begin to slowly wind them onto sticks**, with medical incantations (am I a witch doctor or what?!) to keep him alive and prevent him from losing consciousness. And I transmit the Images to the Castle — what to do, how... He's already fading after a few minutes, but the proximity of the Altar has had an effect and Hovarts understands me.
That's it, I sit down tiredly next to the captive and take out the flasks with restorative potions. Transfigure the stand... secure the flasks... open them and place them so that the contents slowly, drop by drop, flow into the half-goblin's mouth or onto his body. Yes, he needs to suffer longer... No, it's not out of malice, I just can't set up the Altar properly — I'm not the Master. The Castle needs to be restored as best as possible, and this can only be done through the Altar — either through numerous sacrifices/infusions of Power, or through the prolonged torment of the only Enemy. And no, I don't feel sorry for him.
I look at the resulting... composition, everything is fine — the Castle understands what needs to be done and will try to prolong the half-goblin's torment as long as possible. Well, I'm off to Ravenclaw's living room...
No sooner had the thought of the living room entered my head than Hogwarts transmitted the Image of all the secret passages — both active and inactive.
"Thank you, thank you," and in a few minutes I find myself in the living room.
Am I afraid of getting caught? Of course I am, but not too much. The death charms won't work until the enemy is dead, so he won't be able to pass on any information or messages to his people in the Room of Requirement. So... I have an alibi. Another thing is that they might suspect me simply as a descendant of the Sides (natural enemies of goblins), but every third person in the Old Roads is a descendant of the Sides.
The boys? What could happen to them... when they entered, Hogwarts transported them (yes, he can do that too!) to one of the empty classrooms next door. And now they're leafing through a Muggle porn magazine. What's more, they are (now) convinced that all their Secrets were about pornography hidden by one of the older students.
Now famous*" I remind you that Mc plans to change his name to something "more Slytherin-like". That's why "Now" — so that when the name changes, Hogwarts will still remember Mc.
On sticks**" Nerve-wracking is quite real torture.
***
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