[ September 6, 1973. Thursday. ]
Coming back to my senses was rough — I felt like I'd been trampled by a herd of trolls. Not quite as bad as after the nymph ritual, but close. Last time, it was my soul that felt scraped raw; this time, it was my body that didn't quite fit, like I was wearing someone else's skin. The first thing I noticed was Dorothy's voice, calling out to me. She was shouting, crying, but her words were muffled, and I kept slipping back into unconsciousness, as if I were underwater and the surface was just out of reach.
Then, all at once, I snapped awake, like someone had flipped a switch. Judging by the view outside the window, I was in Availon, lying in my bed with an IV in my arm, some brownish potion dripping into my veins. Dorothy was sprawled across me, her cheeks streaked with the salty trails of dried tears. She was asleep, and I didn't wake her.
I flexed my hands — claws, covered in shimmering green scales. A large black-green wing was draped partly over Dorothy. My body felt alien, powerful, and yet not entirely my own.
"Hal," I called out mentally, "what went wrong?"
"There were several reasons — and I did warn you about the side effects," Hal replied, his voice as calm as ever.
"Yeah, yeah, I knew I was taking a risk. But you know what they say — no risk, no immortality. So, what were the reasons?"
"The first is blood thickening. Blood contains a bit of every shell and the primary matrix, but usually it's so minor it only matters in volt-magic and maleficence. The thickening boosted your blood so much that, I suspect, it created pseudo-horcruxes."
"Pseudo-horcruxes? So, like, fragments of my soul anchored in my blood?"
"In a way. It's not true soul-splitting, but the effect is similar — your form becomes much harder to destabilize, but the risk of magical feedback increases. Normally, this would just anchor your form more strongly, but you were drawing on the Hogwarts source, right?"
"Yeah, I figured as much. If I'd done the ritual the classic way, my mana would have run out and the ritual would have stopped. Of course, that had its own risks — my nous could have been drained so much I'd lose the ability to use magic. That's why I connected to Hogwarts in the first place."
"Exactly. And the last reason? My second form?"
"Indirectly, yes. Like all veela, your blood and soul store information about your second form — the veela spirit, like werewolves or totemic mages. It's more than just a metaform — not only does your appearance change, but you gain more control and a stronger affinity for fire. In your case, it was also modified, which caused extra resonance, because your body was following a template, but the excess energy overwhelmed it — the template couldn't handle so many pseudo-horcruxes at once."
"So I should have mutated into a total abomination, but thanks to the second form, my body found a sort of compromise?"
"Exactly. When you passed out, the ritual kept going for a couple more hours. During that time, the castle was almost de-magicked. Wizards had trouble casting spells, charms fizzled out, portraits froze, surveillance spells stopped working, and house-elves couldn't bring food. All the students and teachers were evacuated to Hogsmeade and are waiting for the Department of Mysteries to show up."
"Seriously?"
"No, I'm kidding. You did use a lot of energy, but Hogwarts sits at the intersection of four ley lines that converge in the heart of the castle, with huge underground magic reserves. To fully de-magic Hogwarts, you'd need a couple dozen Sumerian palms working at once. Still, it's impressive you almost managed it."
I let out a low whistle. "So who brought me here? The doppelgangers?"
"No, Dorothy carried you herself. She woke up in the night, felt the ritual through your bond — or maybe through her blood. She's more attuned to you than you realize."
I started remembering the images I'd fought with, or that had entered me. The basilisk, which should have been the strongest, ended up equal to the werewolf. Maybe because, through the blood bond, I pulled out more than just the appearance? Maybe it was because the basilisk was already dead?
"Arthur!" Dorothy cried, opening her eyes. "You're awake! I was so scared!"
"Sorry, sweetheart. I've turned into a monster now."
"What? No! You're beautiful, look!" She conjured a mirror on the ceiling, and I had to admit, she wasn't entirely wrong. Black wings with a green gradient shimmer, red hair down to my shoulders, skin covered in tiny greenish opalescent scales, glowing green serpent eyes, well-defined muscles, and I was about two meters tall. A quick peek under the blanket confirmed that everything else was, well, in proportion.
"Did you check everything?" I asked, remembering I'd gone through the ritual naked.
"I didn't mean to," she blushed. "And you saw me naked too."
"I'm not complaining," I said, retracting my claws and starting to tickle her. Her nightgown rode up, and I realized I had zero control over my connection or veela aura right now. Dorothy's aura flared in response, and she shifted into her adult nymph form. I'd held back for six whole months, but now all that pent-up desire crashed over both of us, and she wanted it just as much. My lips found hers, and my last coherent thought was that I supposedly didn't want this kind of relationship with her — but that thought was quickly drowned in a flood of lust.
***
So, what's sex like between two soul-bound beings with veela auras, tireless creatures who've been holding back for ages? I found out when I came to in a room that looked like a war zone. The bed was in splinters, feathers everywhere like a chicken had been plucked, and Dorothy was sprawled across me, melting with pleasure.
Good sex clears your mind as well as any mental magic, and ours was so intense that I'm afraid being with a regular woman will now feel like nothing but masturbation. I summoned my wand, waved it, and restored the room. I'll never get tired of watching magic work — fragments flying together in reverse, turning back into whole objects. I cleaned Dorothy up, put her to bed to sleep it off, conjured some clothes in my new size, and headed downstairs. The only thing that annoyed me was the doors — even folded, my wings barely fit through.
"Hal, widen the doorways," I remembered I had a keeper. The doorways widened. "By the way, do you still have my basic human matrix — the one I wanted to fix?"
"Yes, I made Sebastian's matrix based on it. Want me to send it to you?"
"Go ahead." I was already heading to the basement when a magical clot flew into me. A brief effort, and I looked human again — though this time, it was my metaform. "Feels a bit cramped."
"Your astral body has changed, so that's not surprising. Want me to calculate a ritual to fix the human one?"
"No, one was enough for me. And you know, there's something ironic about this. People will think this is my main body, so if enemies try to attack or poison it — no problem, I'll just return to my real one."
"And the enemy will think this is your battle form. Clever."
"Plus, while my body's in personal space, it'll age more slowly. The only downside is I have to keep spending mana to maintain it."
"There's an upside too," Hal disagreed. "It'll constantly increase your mana reserve and production. But you shouldn't stay in this form all the time — you'll get used to it and have to relearn."
"Alright, that's sorted. Now, tell me what to do with the restored heart and how to reconfigure it for you?" We'd managed to restore the heart, but of course, no spirit appeared. We decided to move Hal into a new, better vessel, and leave the old one at Hogwarts. A diagram of an obelisk appeared before me, with a metal shirt over it. "Let me guess — adamantium? You don't have small appetites."
"I don't want to end up like my predecessor," he chuckled.
"You know that won't help against me, right?"
"But you're not planning to smash me. I know you as well as I know myself."
"Fair enough. Adamantium it is — we'll protect all the anchors with it." Three diagrams appeared before me. "Hmm, great minds think alike. Fools do too, though. What else do we need?"
"Not strictly necessary, but it'd be good to fix seven key points and twenty-three regular ones." An illusion of Hogwarts appeared, showing all the mana channels, centers, and charms. "It'll be harder to do later."
"As you say, Hal. Will twenty doppelgangers be enough?"
"Plenty, but you'll have to handle the obelisks yourself — every percent of reality matters there."
"No problem," I replied. Hal and I both knew it was best to focus on what we each did best. The strongest partnerships are mutually beneficial. Dark Lords often fail at this — they only value their own strength and gain, so no one wants to work with them, since they'll just take all the rewards and leave you with scraps.
The Sumerians reached their heights because they didn't hoard their secrets in ancestral manors — they cooperated. And they taught their students properly, not like at Hogwarts — where if you can hold a wand, you're already a wizard.
Almost all Thursday, except for meals, no one saw me at Hogwarts. I also had to fly to Spain to deliver the basilisk to Medici. I'd already collected everything I needed from the body: some skin, heart, fang, venom, and blood — for experiments and artifacts. The rest was more than I needed, and the master potioneer would make better use of it.
For example, there's the night vision potion — a permanent potion, which is extremely rare. It's made only from basilisk eyes — the older the basilisk, the better you'll see in the dark. All in all, a very valuable creature, and I'm curious to see what will hatch from the egg, since according to Slytherin, basilisks are a product of reverse genetic engineering.
Why use a chicken egg, and why does a toad have to incubate it? Salazar figured out that, in ancient times, there was a chthonic serpent — Jörmungandr — so huge it encircled the whole Earth. What happened to it is unknown, but one of Hogwarts' founders discovered that its descendants first became giant lizards — what regular people call dinosaurs — and then, eventually, chickens or other birds. Doesn't matter which.
The toad, on the other hand, is a reptile ancestor and a reference point. Actually, the toad doesn't incubate the egg at all, and wouldn't make a basilisk — otherwise, they'd be everywhere despite the breeding ban. No, it's a whole ritual, where the egg is saturated with the souls of hundreds of snakes and multiple chimerology charms are applied. Salazar, in his genius, did this himself — he didn't need charms, just will and magic.
Then he had a wild idea — what if you saturated one with basilisk souls and pushed it even closer to the "ancestor"? He did it, and after a couple decades, the egg was created. But here's the catch — only a very strong female basilisk could carry it, so Salazar left it to Saahshess — one of his failed experiments, a basilisk that turned out strong but dumb.
Why go to all this trouble? He wanted a familiar, but ran out of time. Since then, the female carried the egg inside her, hibernating and giving most of her strength to it, waking up only to eat. Now, apparently, someone woke her up and she laid the egg. Probably not me — more likely whoever cleaned out all of Slytherin's stuff.
Now it's in stasis. I decided to give it to my mother as a familiar. I can't take it myself — I have Dorothy, and for Ludwig it'd be too much. When she gives birth and recovers, I'll do the ritual, and then it can start hatching.
Meanwhile, I was running around like crazy between Hogwarts, Availon, and the anchor in Norway — urgent business everywhere, and only I could handle it. I finally finished close to morning the next day, exhausted. And at last, it was time to activate the new heart.
***
Dorothy and I lay by my apple trees near Ariel's house, watching a live broadcast of doppelgangers activating anchors in three places at once. If something went wrong, it was better to be far away. At that moment, the runes on the obelisks under their adamantine shirts were shifting, creating a three-way connection.
In the illusion, Hogwarts started lighting up like a Christmas tree — old charms restored, new ones added, and my aura inscribed as director and administrator instead of Dumbledore's. Dumbledore himself was now deputy, though he'd probably never notice — the castle was ours now.
"Hal, are we happy?" I asked my vassal.
"We are happy. Come back, I've got everything under control. You can apparate straight to Hogwarts now."
"You or me?" I asked Dorothy, meaning who would transport us.
"Maybe ask the house-elves — they'll be thrilled."
"You're right," I nodded. "Sebastian, Florentina, send us home."
After we were transported, we went to Hogwarts' heart, where my house-elves and doppelgangers were finishing up and installing defense systems. When they were done and left, I started reading the Fidelius charms: "In carmines Fidelius," pointing first at the area I wanted to hide, then at myself as the keeper.
The real challenge of these charms isn't the words, but the concentration, magical power, and willpower they require. You're not just hiding a place — you're making everyone living there forget about it. That's why I can't imagine the power it took to hide magic itself — you'd have to make hundreds of millions of people forget.
"Why are we standing in front of a dead end?" Dorothy asked.
"We're at Hogwarts' Heart," I replied, wanting to show her. Here's another trick — it's pointless to torture or mentally attack the keeper; only a sincere desire can reveal the secret. Though, you can also seduce them... did I mention love magic is terrifying?
"Hm, I just remembered how we restored it. Is this memory erasure?"
"Maybe, or maybe it's reality manipulation. Wizards themselves don't really understand what they created," I said thoughtfully. I remember the Sumerians had something similar. Most likely, it's the same thing, just with a wand. "Hal, restore Hogwarts here for now, but make sure no one sees it. If you need anything — just ask."
"How am I supposed to do that?" Damn, these charms really are monstrous.
"Hal, Hogwarts' Heart."
"Oh, right. Fidelius?"
"Yeah," I replied, sending doppelgangers to wall up the exit. They'd gather sand and stones, then use eternal transfiguration to turn them into solid granite, reinforced with charms, and from the inside, everything was already protected by the founders. All that was left was to deal with the diadem and get ready to face the world.
***
Even the world's greatest wizards eat, sleep, and use the bathroom. Dumbledore was no exception, and age hadn't made things easier — his digestion was irregular, and his favorite lemon drops didn't always arrive at Hogwarts fresh.
So, at that moment, the headmaster was in the contemplation room, reading another "Daily Prophet" article and debating whether to use cleaning charms or just use the rag like a Muggle. He was tempted to wipe his behind with Rita Skeeter's smiling face — she was reporting that everything was calm in England, with no murders or kidnappings.
Not that he really cared about Muggles — he hadn't seen them in ages, spending most of his time at Hogwarts, the Wizengamot, or in Switzerland at the ICW headquarters. Still, he'd once bet on Muggle-borns, so he had to keep up appearances. Few people bothered to compare his words with his actions, since despite his liberal, Muggle-loving image, he'd done little for Muggles or Muggle-borns. Even the fund for helping Muggle-born wizards wasn't his idea — it was created at Hogwarts' founding, since former peasant wizards couldn't afford tuition, let alone shoes.
But that's beside the point. While Dumbledore was deciding if Skeeter's face was worthy of his magical behind, all the devices in his office shut off for a few seconds, plunging the room into an odd silence. But that wasn't all. Portraits froze, lights flickered, and the Hogwarts model on his desk turned into a simple figurine for a moment.
But Albus Dumbledore, now only de jure headmaster, missed all of it. Who knows — maybe if he hadn't eaten licorice wands that morning, he might have noticed. But that's another story.
***
Severus Snape never thought of himself as a fool. Hot-tempered? Sure. Gloomy? Probably. Stubborn? Maybe. But not stupid. Arthur Marlow had struck him as an odd wizard from the start — he radiated a confidence you only see in people who've really achieved something. That's why he'd so easily thrown Potter and Black out of the compartment.
Later, Snape learned that in certain circles, Arthur Marlow — and especially his mother, Ariel Marlow — were known as the inventors of bracelets for veela, werewolves, Quidditch, and as the creators of changeable rings. The first three were pretty niche, and the last was too expensive to be common knowledge. If they'd made a new broom, maybe — but Snape hated flying and brooms, especially after that idiot Potter hexed his broom in first year and he broke his leg.
Given all that, and Marlow's help in the abandoned classroom, Snape didn't dismiss his advice like he did with most people. He actually got excited about the idea of making gaseous potions. Severus had no money, but brewing potions for housemates and "borrowing" ingredients from class gave him enough for experiments.
He even started brewing quick-acting appearance potions, which he'd once looked down on. He straightened his teeth, slimmed his nose, made his hair smooth and silky... and had to admit Marlow was right. Even in his worn robes, he now looked more like a down-on-his-luck aristocrat than a beggar from Knockturn Alley. And nothing stopped him from using transfiguration charms on his robes, right? They'd wear out faster, but if he only used them when needed, it was fine.
Snape didn't have cologne, so he used amortentia instead — properly brewed, it smells different to everyone, exactly like what they love most. For Severus, it smelled like lilies.
When the new and improved Snape walked into the Great Hall for breakfast, he was full of anticipation — and was immediately disappointed. No one looked at him, everyone was busy talking, and no one cared about another student entering. But when he sat down...
"Hey, I haven't seen you before. What house are you in?" a girl asked, twirling a chestnut curl around her finger. Others heard her and started whispering. Some even sniffed the air.
"Uh, Slytherin," Snape stammered. As a loner and introvert, he barely talked to anyone except Lily.
"I'm Dorothy, Dorothy Edgecombe," the girl introduced herself. "What's your name?"
"You're a transfer, right? Like that group of four?" another girl cut in, sitting next to him and pressing closer than was proper. This wasn't amortentia — you have to drink it for that. He just smelled good, wore what looked like expensive robes, and was good-looking. And the girl was half-blood, so she didn't care about purebloods.
"I'm Severus Snape," he replied, expecting the girls to lose interest — but instead, it only grew.
"Snape?! Is that really you? How did you change so much?"
"I made some potions and..."
"You can make potions like that? Will you make some for me? I'll pay five — no, ten galleons!" the girl said eagerly.
"Ten galleons? Are you kidding?" Edgecombe scoffed. "I'll give fifty for a hair potion."
"Sevvy, don't listen to her — make me a potion too, and I'll go to Hogsmeade with you," the girl next to him chimed in. She didn't have that much money, so she tried her feminine charms.
A full-on argument broke out, and Severus was barely involved — it was now a rivalry between two best friends. Soon, the poor potioneer had a stack of profitable orders and several date invitations. He'd never realized cosmetic potions could be so lucrative. And, on top of that, he started to think — maybe Lily wasn't the only girl in the world.
***
Pandora Grey was never popular in her house. Too weird, even for Ravenclaw. Too brilliant, even for the geniuses. But she didn't really mind. Well, almost. Her oddness led her to befriend Xenophilius — if her obsession was magic and charms, his was with all sorts of creatures, real and imagined.
Her unexpected teacher, whom Xeno spoke highly of, accepted her with all her quirks, nurtured her talents, and helped her smooth out her rough edges. Pandora wasn't stupid — she just cared less about her own safety than her experiments. But Marlow proved to her that the dead don't experiment. All it took was three clinical deaths, two resurrections, and a couple dozen times being put back together and healed.
But most importantly, for the first time, someone believed in Pandora, took her seriously, and taught her properly. She was a simple girl — if someone did good by her, she'd repay them until her trust was broken. She always wore her teacher's first gift — a magocogitator, which kept her company and made dangerous experiments a little less dangerous. Or maybe more dangerous — after all, its matrix was hers.
"Pandora Grey?" On her way to her favorite charms class, bouncing on her toes, she was suddenly stopped by three boys in green ties. "Are you the one hanging around with Marlow?"
"And who are you hanging around with?" The leader's eyebrow twitched.
"None of your business. We just want to warn you — anyone who befriends him will have to deal with Slytherin. He insulted our leader."
"Salazar? So he's alive? I told Marlow he had to be around here somewhere!"
"Rookwood, we need to teach this idiot a lesson," one of the lackeys said. "Although... look at her, she's a beauty!"
"You're right! I bet she won't mind if we rough her up a bit. So, girl, your choice — do we mess up your face or your body?"
"You know, my teacher said that if anyone bothers me, I should shove the rapists' heads up their own asses. So, excuse me," Pandora said sincerely, pulling her wand from behind her ear.
*Further text deleted due to excessive violence and cruelty*
—————————————————————————————————
Thank you for the help with the power stones!!!