Malfoy stared in amazement at the large grey owl. The owl tilted its head to one side, then solemnly held out its paw with a letter tied to it and hooted. Lucius untied the letter and nodded to the owl, pointing to a plate of owl biscuits. The scroll attracted attention with its emerald ink and the Hogwarts crest. Headmaster Dumbledore suggested a meeting and asked him to come to the castle for negotiations. Since Malfoy had become a member of the board of trustees this school year, the headmaster needed to bring him up to speed.
Shrugging his shoulders, Lucius briefly scribbled a reply agreeing to the request and tied the scroll to the talon of an important owl. After lunch, he gave the password and address of the headmaster's fireplace, stepped out of the flames, and carefully brushed the soot off his sleeve. Dumbledore, as usual, was sitting at his desk. Recognising Lucius, he nodded good-naturedly and invited him to sit down, pointing to the chair opposite the desk. Lucius sat down in the chair with dignity, placed his hands on the armrests, and looked at the headmaster with condescending curiosity. Dumbledore finished writing something on a sheet of paper and put down his quill.
Suddenly, Lucius felt his back and head stick to the surface, and his hands sink into the wooden armrests, as if they had become liquid, and then solid again. The entire chair began to move, and Malfoy found himself immobilised, unable to even move his head. Dumbledore shook his head with a smile.
"You know, Lucius," he began confidentially, "for some reason our wizards forget that I am not only the headmaster of Hogwarts, but also the most powerful wizard in England, who defeated the most terrifying Dark Lord of the twentieth century in a magical duel. And your useless master, Tom Riddle, is my former student. So, Lucius, I want to tell you that I'm tired of your actions in the Wizengamot. What are you trying to achieve? I understand that you want to run for Minister in the next election? Well, that won't do for me.
"What are you talking about, Dumbledore?" Malfoy looked nervously at the headmaster. "You won't get away with this. I will definitely raise the issue of this incident at the next Wizengamot meeting."
***
Dumbledore smiled dryly and raised his wand:
"Now, Mr. Malfoy, we'll see what secrets you're hiding from me. Legilimens!"
The spell struck Lucius, and today's events flashed before Albus's eyes. It was clear that Malfoy was concentrating hard to activate the defensive bastions of his mind. The aristocrat's family amulet, sensing the attack on its master's mind, had probably also begun to actively counter the intruder.
Beads of sweat rolled down Dumbledore's forehead, and he leaned back in his chair with a disappointed sigh. "Damn aristocrats. They're almost impossible to read. The only thing I managed to get out of him is that Malfoy definitely got his hands dirty in that incident in Gloucester, so we'll press him on that," angry thoughts raced through his mind, but aloud Albus said:
"So, Mr Malfoy, you took an active part in the attack on the Aurors in the Gloucester massacre, as it has been dubbed in the newspapers. I think that with the help of Veritaserum, the Aurors will easily get a confession out of you.
Imagining Malfoy in Azkaban, Dumbledore even flashed his glasses with delight.
Lucius looked grimly at Dumbledore:
"What are these games, Dumbledore? What do you want? Confessions obtained under the truth serum without the permission of the Wizengamot cannot be used as evidence.
"I want to come to an agreement with you, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore smiled into his beard. "You may continue your opposition activities in the Wizengamot, you may promote your ideas on the Board of Trustees, I have no objection, but you must swear that you will not stand for election in the next Ministerial elections and that you will not support any of your radical colleagues...
*** Lucius mentally weighed his options. "Yes, Dumbledore has him cornered and can harm his plans. Of course, with Legilimency, he couldn't see much in the protected mind, but even those little details gave him confidence that if an investigation began, it would be possible to prove Malfoy's guilt. Ah, so we'll have to come to an agreement. On the other hand, the Malfoys have never in their history attempted to occupy a ministerial position, always preferring to work behind the scenes. I shouldn't break with this family tradition."
"Very well, Dumbledore, I agree to your terms," Lucius said after a moment's thought.
"Excellent, Mr Malfoy. I will call Minerva, and she will seal our agreement," Dumbledore cooed cheerfully.
"Rejoice while you can, old spider, you're no match for a Slytherin in cunning," Lucius thought angrily.
Minerva McGonagall gladly sealed the agreement, and Lucius left the headmaster's office without saying goodbye.
"Albus!" said McGonagall anxiously. "He'll ruin you at every opportunity!"
"Don't worry, my dear," Dumbledore smiled, "every authority must have its opposition, the main thing is that it is manageable.
Malfoy stared angrily out of the window, sitting in his office.
"Yes, the old man got me, he got me. We all really forgot that even Lord Voldemort feared a direct confrontation with Dumbledore. So we relaxed at some point. But an old lion is still a lion. Well, if we can't nominate anyone from our party now, we'll find someone who'll be willing to do anything for money. Actually, I think it would be better if my old acquaintance, Mr. Fudge, were a candidate for minister. I just need to talk to him and outline the prospects. Then, with the help of that money-hungry fool, we can quietly push through any initiatives and blame it on Fudge."
Feeling a little better, Malfoy went to the Ministry. An hour later, in Fudge's office, Lucius looked at him with a smile and asked:
"Cornelius. How would you feel about running for Minister of Magic in the next election?"
Fudge looked at Malfoy in surprise:
"I am certainly an ambitious man, Lord Malfoy, even though I graduated from Hufflepuff in my day, but become Minister? I think Scrimgeour has a much better chance of that.
"Scrimgeour is certainly popular," Lucius nodded in agreement, "but his militant stance may not find support among the members of the Wizengamot.
"The ministerial seat," Fudge said with a greedy expression on his face. "You know, Lucius, I'm in the game. If you secure my support in the Wizengamot and sponsor my election campaign, I'll be very grateful, you understand? Fudge looked at Lucius with a sly look.
"I'm sure, dear Cornelius, that we'll be ready for the next election. I think the Wizengamot chairman will support your candidacy too.
"Yes, we don't want Dumbledore throwing a spanner in the works," Fudge grimaced.
"You know, Cornelius," Malfoy said with some doubt. "You need to be very careful with Dumbledore. I wouldn't be surprised if he also sees the Minister's chair as a fallback option for himself. He's already got three positions, why not take a fourth?"
Fudge said nothing, but his expressive face immediately darkened.
"Good," Lucius thought with satisfaction, "less chance of you looking into the old man's mouth."
After saying goodbye to Faj, Lucius headed for the manor. "Let's see whose side will prevail now, Albus," his mood, which had been below zero, began to rise rapidly.
Chibuzo Inu sat in a comfortable chair in the middle of a terrifying room. There were instruments of torture, braziers, an altar with a pile of skulls, and two prisoners hanging in chains between the columns. Two more bodies lay on the floor, smelling like rotten flesh. One of the hanging men was still alive, the other was completely intact.
"Seko," Chibuzo Inu said emotionlessly, and the red-haired man was left alone.
"I liked your unusual appearance in the mine," the black mage laughed. "That's why I won't kill you just like that. No, I'll make a scarecrow out of you and tie your soul to your dead shell so that you can scare my enemies with your screams.
A foul odour wafted from the body of the last mage from the mine where Cassius had been held.
"U-u-u-uf!" Chibuzo breathed in the basement air with obvious pleasure. "Nothing smells as good as an enemy who has been defiled in your presence. I'm waiting for your true story, redhead. And if I find it implausible, you'll be in for a world of pain."
The red-haired mage turned out to be the nephew of Johann Schwab from South Africa, one of Grindelwald's supporters who had spread across the planet like cockroaches after the war. Most hid in Argentina or Italy, but some of the mages, especially those who had served under Rommel, fled to Africa.
Schwab himself, a comrade of Siegfried Müller, who had good connections in the Congo, used these connections to organise diamond mining. And to keep the local magicians away, he enlisted the support of militants from Egypt, where the largest number of Grindelwald's followers had settled. The secrets of Egyptian magic had attracted the Anenerbe even during the war, so it was no surprise that the most cunning among them settled there.
Now the management of the diamond mining company in Congo is based in Rwanda. In Kigali, in the very centre of the Rwandan capital, in a park area, there is a mansion invisible to the simple-minded, from where the insolent magicians decided all matters.
Not wanting to delay retribution, Chibuzo Inu transgressed into Kigali. Looking at the Germans' mansion through a spell of foresight, Chibuzo noticed the security points. The magicians were not careless; security was at the highest level. Guards changed shifts, armed patrols roamed the grounds, and even soldiers from the commoners sat in the towers.
The task was far from easy; the mages were ready for an attack by potential enemies. After thinking about the best way to attack the mansion, the mage, so as not to attract attention with black rituals, went to the Congo to the company's mines. Over the course of several days, he thoroughly cleaned out all the locations belonging to the Germans, and now in his basement, in the form of statuettes, lay about two hundred captured mages and soldiers from an Egyptian private military company, which recruited squibs and commoners. Taking the statuettes, Chibuzo Inu made his way far into the desert and began preparing for the ritual. Taking out a vial of poison from a puffer fish, he methodically began to inject each of them with a small dose. After a while, when the poison took effect and paralysed the parts of the brain responsible for independence, Chibuzo placed a seal of complete obedience on each of their stomachs. The strongest ones even had to be joined by particularly vicious Loa so that the zombies could act as well as the magicians.
Once again turning his obedient army into statues, the black mage transgressed back to the Germans' mansion. Releasing his minions, he gave the order to attack without hesitation, while he himself remained to watch the events unfold. Activating his own anti-apparition dome, which not only prevented other mages from apparating under it, but also smeared those who tried to do so across the surrounding area, Chibuzo grinned maliciously. A crowd of zombies rushed at the mansion from all sides. Surprised cries gave way to curses, and then to gunshots. The most frightening thing was that the zombies did not react to normal hits; only a bullet to the head could stop them, so even when knocked down, they got up and continued their attack, despite the blood flowing from their wounds.
The soldiers continued to fire indiscriminately even as the zombies silently stormed the mansion grounds. Spells flashed, and through his connection with the dolls, the mage realised that Grindelwald's fighters had joined the fray. Nevertheless, a crowd often beats a single person, and five or six of their zombie comrades were fighting against one enemy mage. After a few minutes, the sound of gunfire and flashes of spells ceased completely, and Chibuzo Inu slowly walked towards the mansion, not forgetting to check the activity of his protective amulets. There was dead silence on the grounds of the mansion, and the zombies who had completed their task stood motionless around the building and inside.
Chibuzo went to the centre of the mansion, where several mages had barricaded themselves behind one of the doors."Knock, knock, who's hiding there?" he knocked mockingly on the door with the toe of his shoe. "Open up, you white fools."
"Who are you?" came the furious reply, accompanied by German curses.
"A tiger doesn't need to announce its ferocity, and an elephant should watch where it's stepping," Chibuzo said instructively. "Open the door or you'll be lunch for the zombies. You can't stand up to all of them anyway, and I want to see your faces.
Hearing no response, Chibuzo simply broke down the door with Bombarda and let the zombies standing in the corridor in. In response, there were more flashes of spells and green beams of "avada" flew through the air. But after a short time, the mages, unable to manoeuvre in the room and escape through transgression, could no longer resist. The last two living wizards were simply covered with zombies. Their wands were taken away and they were simply chained up, clinging with their hands and feet wherever they could.
The smiling bokkor entered the room and even laughed at the sight. The magicians looked like a surreal picture of some kind of black-and-white orgy of intertwined bodies. Casting a binding spell, the magician turned the last remaining leaders of the company into puppets. Then he simply ordered the zombies to burn everything and remain in the fire themselves, then removed the dome and returned to his mansion using transgression. Leaving the prisoners until tomorrow, the slightly tired Chibuzo went up to his room, took a shower and went to bed. He had a lot to do tomorrow, so he needed to rest a little. The next morning, he ate a hearty breakfast and sent Cassius back to the library to study blood magic. Chibuzo Inu went down to the basement, where the quick-witted house spirits had already cleaned up the remains of his previous victims. After breaking the spell on the German mages and hanging them on hooks, Chibuzo began his torture and interrogation. An old-school dark mage, he tortured the prisoners for half an hour without much pleasure until they spoke. Of course, he could have used mental magic or truth serum, but Chibuzo had good reason to believe that the Grindelwalders were protected from truth serum. Therefore, he resorted to sophisticated magical torture aimed at suppressing the will and removing various blocks and restraining vows.
When the mages were completely gutted, Chibuzo found out where the stolen diamonds and prisoners were hidden and where all the threads of this story led. The mastermind behind the cunning YARs turned out to be the same Anenerbe employee, secret advisor Ali al-Nahar, former Gestapo agent Leopold Gleim. Chibuzo transformed an owl, placed the heads of the unfortunate mages in a scroll, and sent it to Egypt with a request to stay out of the Congo. He was not afraid that the Germans would start hunting him, as he had good reason to believe that his name and reputation were well known not only in Central Africa but also in Egypt. Moving to Rwanda, where prisoners and a treasure trove were kept in another mansion, Chibuzo enthusiastically engaged in looting. In this, the old magician resembled a goblin. Possessing untold wealth, he never refused to increase it by any means. His storerooms here in Africa, in Zurich and even in America were often replenished with treasures and other trinkets found on his travels.
Tired but satisfied, the wizard entered a gloomy basement room where the company's unlucky captives were held in cages.
"Please introduce yourselves and tell me where you are from," Chibuzo began, pacing along the bars and taking his time freeing the prisoners. The practical magician was deciding what use he could make of the prisoners and whether it was worth freeing them at all. The dark mage was neither good nor evil; he was always practical and tried to act according to his current ideas of justice.
Therefore, he looked at the prisoners without much emotion and decided what to do with them. Most of them were unsuccessful tourist mages who had the misfortune of falling into the clutches of a private military company, and after some processing, they were all sent to work in the mines. The first of the prisoners was a tall, dark-skinned man with a large nose and a sullen expression.
"My name is Borislav Kram, I'm from Bulgaria. My friend Igor Karkarov and I," he nodded to the neighbouring cage, where a beaten black-haired wizard lay, "were caught in Egypt, where we arrived on a tourist visa. Igor was looking for his missing suzerain, and I was just keeping him company.
"Is there anyone who can pay your ransom?" asked Chibuzo.
The magician shook his head dejectedly.
"I may be from an ancient Bulgarian family, but we have no rich relatives or vaults full of treasure in goblin banks. I only have a wife and a young son who has just enrolled at Durmstrang. I work at the Ministry of Magic as the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.
Igor Karkarov, coughing, raised himself up on his elbows when he heard his name.
"Hello, I am Igor Karkarov, and starting next year, I will be working as a professor at Durmstrang," the wizard croaked, finally sitting down on the floor. "I don't have any special income either, but if you need to look something up in the Durmstrang library, I think I can arrange that.The other prisoners also began to introduce themselves, but Chibuzo Inu did not recognise anyone else of interest among them. They were ordinary people who, by a twist of fate, had fallen into the hands of the gangsters.
With a wave of his hand, Chibuzo simply made all the bars disappear.
"You may leave in peace, gentlemen magicians, you are free, and next time try not to fall into the hands of man-eaters, I may not be around," the African grinned, showing his white teeth. "I'm sure you'll figure out how to get to the airport, it's very close by.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Magician," Kram bowed politely. "What is your name? To whom do we owe our salvation? I have already made up my mind. Those Grindelwald creatures killed my father in the war and almost got to me. I thought that this cursed symbol of their master — and he drew the sign of death in the air — should be carved on our graves.
"My name is Chibuzo Inu, I am a magician from Zaire... A dark magician," he flashed his teeth.
The rescued bowed politely.
"We are very grateful to you for saving us, sir," all the magicians said in unison.
Having finished with the mansion, Chibuzo Inu finally set off for home.
***
Cassius, realizing once again that knowledge is never superfluous, pored over the archaically written scrolls on blood magic. This branch of magic offered incredible possibilities. Sometimes Cassius regretted that wands were not used in Wagadu in the same way as in European schools, but his teacher casually explained that they would receive training wands later that year and that he could buy his own whenever he wanted, but advised him not to rush into it until he was at least fifteen. The capacity of wands and their different cores are very individual, and it is not worth rushing into a choice. Of course, the master wand makers claim that their products are chosen by wizards and grow with them, but Chibuzo impatiently dismissed this heresy, insisting that a wand is just one of a wizard's tools, on a par with a staff, ring or sword. But a wizard's main weapon should be himself and nothing else.
After the incident in the caves, he asked his teacher why he had not tried to find him by his blood or with the help of spirits, to which he replied in his usual cold manner, which, as always, was hidden behind a broad, white-toothed smile:
"My boy. A dark wizard is, above all, a cold mind. We must rule our emotions, not the other way around. I felt inside that there was nothing in your situation that you couldn't handle on your own. Or do you think I'm going to wipe your nose for you during training?" Chibuzo grinned again. "Your life and your success depend only on you, Cass, only on you. And a cool head will help you with that."
His pet Bora, when not eating, watched Cassius's training intently, strutting importantly around the garden. The cunning bird caught snakes, snails and even turtles in the garden. Bora did not disdain small rodents either. There was plenty of food, and the bird was in a fine mood. He regularly took his master's letters to England and considered himself an experienced postal kitewhite. And he was greatly amused by how the English stared at him when he flew over their territory. Even now, he tilted his head in an amusing manner, watching Cassius diligently copy some symbols from a book.
Having finished drawing the symbols with his finger, which was bitten once again, Cassius exhaled wearily. The last time he was in France, he noticed that Grandmother Walburga looked much worse than before. And despite the fact that the rest at Abraxas's estate had clearly done her good, he nevertheless feared that she might not live to see his return to England. He would have to drop everything and rush to London to take over the Black family business, which could cause problems with his studies in Ouagadougou, and that would not be good.
Therefore, based on a ritual from a book on blood magic, he decided to create a protective amulet that would at least maintain Walburga's health and protect her from the negative effects of black magic. And in the old mansion at 12 Grimo, there were probably so many dark things that it was astonishing. The Blacks' ancestors had collected all kinds of dangerous trinkets from everywhere, and their active nature and large family allowed them to gather various unique items. Having finished the amulet and received his teacher's approving grunt, Cassius hid it in a scroll and tied it to Bora's leg. The satisfied bird puffed out its chest and flapped its rather broad wings. In an instant, its outline melted into the sky.
In an old mansion, the prim and proper Kreacher approached Walburga, who was sitting on the sofa, and said respectfully:
"My lady! Some strange owl belonging to Cassius's heir has brought you a letter, but it won't give it to me. It has such a huge beak, and I'm afraid it might try to eat me." And the house spirit bowed to Walburga.
Amazed, Walburga went up to the owl house and saw the owls huddled in a corner and Boru sitting proudly in the middle of the room, looking around with some smugness. Having emptied the container of owl biscuits for all the flying inhabitants of the owl house and drunk all the water, he looked at the owls themselves with a certain gastronomic interest. The clever birds did not want to become anyone's dinner, so they huddled together in a tight cluster in the corner and clicked their beaks threateningly.
Seeing Walburga, the bird stretched out its paw with dignity to the mistress of the mansion, and she unhooked the message. Pulling out the strange amulet, she read the letter with surprise. Immediately calling for a pen and inkwell, she wrote a reply thanking her grandson and sent Bor away. After all, the local owls had served her family for many years, and she did not want to lose any of them because of a gluttonous whale's head.
Valburga read her grandson's letter and was touched by his concern for her well-being. Hanging the amulet on the living room wall, she thought gratefully of his childish concern, not even noticing how invisible grey suction cups detached themselves from her soul, imperceptibly but inexorably drawing magic and life from her. The old brownie standing behind the back of the hostess's sofa also felt the beneficial flow of magical currents and decided that he would spend the night only here by the sofa and return to the closet only when necessary. His body, which was drying up with each passing year, seemed to have been breathed new life into. And while Valburga was touched by her grandson's childish craft, the old brownie rejoiced and hoped that soon a strong master would appear in the family who would help him fulfil the last command of his master Regulus. In the meantime, he would wait and protect his beloved mistress.
***
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