Outside, it was a pitch-black night, with only a light shining through the window of Hagrid's hut. In Dumbledore's office were the headmaster himself, Minerva McGonagall, Snape, Cassius, and the five Aurors on duty, led by Alastor Moody.
"Murder tears the soul apart!" Dumbledore declared, even banging his fist on the table. "And you, young man," he flashed an angry glance at Cassius from behind his half-glasses, "you killed two wizards, one of whom was your uncle.
"I can't believe that a murderer studied at Gryffindor!" McGonagall pursed her lips in condemnation, glaring contemptuously at Cassius.
"What's the problem, Albus?" Moody looked at the headmaster in confusion. "Well, the kid took down a werewolf and an Azkaban escapee, he did everything right, as far as I'm concerned.
"Wrong," Dumbledore cut him off. "You should have disarmed them and brought them to me for questioning. They may not have meant any harm.
"Nothing bad?" Snape hissed indignantly, still clutching his head. "Black conspired with Lupin to break into the school and even into the Gryffindor dormitory!"
Dumbledore looked at Snape reproachfully.
"Harry says they were hunting Peter Pettigrew, who somehow managed to stay alive, and they almost caught him, but you stopped them.
"Is that why your boy and his friends attacked their professor?" Snape sneered bitterly. "And, by the way, what punishment is appropriate for that? As far as I remember, expulsion.
"Don't get so worked up," Minerva interjected immediately. "The boy was acting on emotion, and the others just supported him. They're real friends," she said with a fleeting smile.
Snape clenched his jaw stubbornly:
"Let's expel all three of them for assaulting teachers. He looked indignantly at McGonagall and continued:
"In first year," Snape began, clenching his fingers, "your boy killed Professor Quirrell.
"In second year," Snape bent another finger, "Lockhart was injured. And again, with Potter's involvement, mind you.
"And in the third year," Severus clenched his fist and frowned,
"I was injured and DADA died again, and Potter was directly involved in all of it!
"You know, Severus, the position of Professor DADA is cursed," Dumbledore shrugged. "The boy has nothing to do with it, and that's not what we're talking about right now.
The great light wizard behind his half-moon glasses scanned everyone present with a keen gaze and said coldly:
"I think the matter of Cassius Black should be investigated by the DMF, and the decision on his guilt will be made by the Wizengamot.
"In the meantime," he continued sternly, "you will await trial in Azkaban, young man. Alastor, gentlemen. Send Mr. Black to Azkaban for the duration of the investigation. He is an adult wizard, not a Hogwarts student.
Moody smiled crookedly and rose heavily from his chair:
"Come on, lad, we'll take you to your new quarters." The Aurors silently took up positions on either side of him.
Cassius stood up and smiled crookedly.
"You want to put me in Azkaban for saving the life of Professor Snape and three students? Are you losing your mind, Headmaster?"
Dumbledore instantly grabbed his wand and cast Incarcero at him. Despite its simplicity, the power of the spell took the boy by surprise. Black struggled to hold up his shield, quickly losing ground to the monstrous force. Dumbledore flashed his glasses angrily, glanced to the side, and Moody's "Petrificus Totalus" immediately flew into Cassius, knocking him unconscious. The last thing he heard was McGonagall's contemptuous, evil voice:
"A place in Azkaban is where a puppy belongs..."
Cassius came to his senses from the cold. A stone sack, an iron door, the rustling of Dementors in the corridor and the screams of prisoners. It was cold, and dark dust lay on the stone floor, trampled by the prisoners' feet.
"I didn't manage to finish Hogwarts well," the wizard noted sarcastically to himself. But then his expression darkened even more. Cassius remembered how he had tried to resist Dumbledore's binding spell and how great the difference in strength had been. A few more seconds of confrontation and Cassius, without resorting to black magic, would have been crushed.
The headmaster's power was overwhelming, even though the old wizard habitually concealed his strength, unleashing it only when necessary. As headmaster, he had access to all of Hogwarts' power, and the founders, who had built the school on the ruins of an even older structure, were well versed in magic. Hogwarts stood on the strongest source of magic in the British Isles, and the headmaster had access to it.
"What an old hypocrite," Cassius cursed under his breath. "How he got used to running his little schemes at Hogwarts over the years. Never mind, by putting me in Azkaban, he gave me the opportunity to grow stronger. As long as the Dementors don't forget the agreement."
***
Snape looked at Dumbledore with malice, his dark eyes flashing with rage:
"Albus, your actions have crossed all boundaries! Black saved me and Potter, and you sent him to Azkaban. And even if it's only until the trial, does he deserve a cell in the most terrible prison in England? You've gone mad!"
Dumbledore silently twirled Cassius's wand, which had been taken by the Aurors, then raised his heavy gaze to Snape:
"There will be no trial, my boy," Albus said with a thoroughly fake smile. "Cassius has no one who can stand up for him. He is the last Black, and I think he will remain the last. It was high time to destroy this dark family, which has written so many black pages in the history of England. The boy is as strong as my friend and I were at his age," Dumbledore sighed, "and he has already killed a man. I do not want another Dark Lord, Severus, they only bring trouble.
The wand in the headmaster's hand cracked and flew into the bin...
***
The Dementors were sent back, and the students, cheerful, settled into their carriages. The end of the school year had erased all the bad memories of the last few days.
Harry and Ron laughed merrily, discussing Neville's silly appearance when he had once again forgotten to put on his robe and showed up for Transfiguration class in just a jumper. McGonagall had stared at him indignantly for an hour, so that Neville didn't know where to hide.
Hermione, citing a headache, closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat. Yesterday, when asked, "Where is the seventh-year who saved you from the werewolf?" McGonagall replied sharply that he had been sent to Azkaban because there was no place for a murderer at Hogwarts.
Granger simply nodded and left, but inside she was seething with indignation. Accustomed since childhood to standing up for justice, she decided that the school was doing the wrong thing. Yes, Black had killed Sirius and Professor Lupin, but he was defending himself, wasn't he? And self-defence is not a crime.
"And Cassius saved us all," Hermione felt ashamed that she hadn't told the dean that. Her thoughts turned to the past year, and she was once again overcome with doubt:
"Why is she the best student in the class, yet constantly getting into trouble with Ron and Harry? Especially since Ron is only friends with her so he can copy her homework, and Harry sometimes behaves like a spineless weakling, always listening to his red-haired friend."
This year, Minerva McGonagall secretly gave her access to the Time-Turner. Hermione was delighted, as this meant she could attend parallel lessons and spend much more time in the library. There, to her surprise, she often met Draco Malfoy. Moreover, the Slytherin was reading serious books on medicine and related sciences. When he wasn't grimacing at Potter and Weasley, Draco looked quite handsome.
With his platinum blond hair, handsome features, and strong yet graceful figure, he had always appealed to Hermione a little. That is, until he started to speak through clenched teeth, contemptuously drawing out his vowels. Then the boy turned into a typical rich kid, whom she had seen enough of in Muggle school.
Before the exams, she couldn't resist and, once again meeting Malfoy in the library, gave in to her curiosity and glanced at the manuscript he was reading. This book had never caught the Gryffindor's eye before. It described various potions that affected the mind and their antidotes. Leafing through the pages with growing horror, Hermione learned about the friendship potion and Amortentia. She also learned about other elixirs that, when taken, caused wizards to undergo psychological changes. Under the influence of some, a wizard was capable of committing acts completely out of character.
Then it hit her for the first time:
"Why did she start being friends with Ron, who almost got her killed in her first year? Or with Harry, who was obsessed with Quidditch and couldn't stand doing his homework? What did she have in common with them, apart from their adventures?"
Hermione slammed the book shut and ran out of the library. She tried to forget what she had read, but her perfect memory kept pushing the frightening knowledge to the surface of her mind. She didn't want to believe it, but doubts continued to undermine her resolve.
"Hermione!" Ron suddenly slapped her on the shoulder, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Don't sleep."
The girl only smiled weakly in response to her red-haired friend.
"I'm inviting you to visit us this summer," Weasley continued. "You'll see how real wizards live. We'll also go to the Quidditch World Cup; Dad promised to get tickets for everyone. You too, friend," he turned to Potter, "we'll be waiting for you as soon as you can get rid of your guardians this summer.
Harry winked happily at Hermione and held up both hands in a V sign. Going to the Quidditch World Cup was his dream. Potter loved flying while playing Quidditch; it gave him incomparable pleasure.
After saying goodbye to her friends, Hermione hugged her parents, who had come to meet her. She nodded warmly to Harry, who was dragging his suitcase gloomily behind his guardian, and finally climbed into her parents' car, which smelled pleasantly of leather. Her father drove confidently out of the car park, while her mother smiled as she looked at her grown-up daughter.
"How's school, Herm?" Emma Granger asked her daughter warmly.
"Everything's excellent, Mum," Hermione smiled awkwardly, "I'm just very tired."
"It's all right, sweetheart," Emma hugged her shoulders, "you can rest at home.
After thinking for a moment, Hermione made up her mind:
"I need to go to the magical quarter," she said, looking at her mother. "I want to buy something to read over the summer."
Her parents exchanged indulgent glances:
"Of course, sweetheart," Hector Granger replied with a chuckle. "Your father knows how his clever daughter likes to relax.
Her parents laughed cheerfully but not harshly as they looked at the girl. Hermione pouted sweetly in response, pretending to be offended, and turned away towards the window.
At the end of the year, she returned the time-turner to the dean and gave up Muggle Studies. By the end of the year, all the studying and helping her friends had worn the Gryffindor nerd out so much that she decided to take a break. And ever since she read that book left by Malfoy, she wanted more and more to somehow dispel her fear. So the next day, her father left her at the entrance to The Leaky Cauldron and went to work.
The Leaky Cauldron was one of the few places in London where you could get to the magical quarter. After greeting the bartender, Hermione walked past the bar to the backyard and tapped the bricks with her wand as usual. They moved aside, and Granger stepped onto the cobblestones of the magical quarter. Reaching St. Mungo's Hospital, she suppressed her hesitation and went inside.
"What do you want?" asked the witch behind the visitor's desk.
"I'd like to have my blood tested for potions," the Muggle-born girl stammered uncertainly.
"All right," the witch replied calmly. "Third floor, eighth office. Go on in."
Climbing the stairs, Hermione found the right door and knocked.
"Come in," came a muffled voice, and Hermione timidly entered. A doctor in a yellow coat and round glasses sat at a desk, filling out some document.
"I'm listening, my dear," the healer put down his pen and looked at the girl intently.
"I would like to be tested for potions," she said, pushing a lump in her throat down.
"Do you suspect that someone has poisoned you, young lady?" the wizard asked in surprise.
"I'm afraid someone has been slipping me friendship potion for a long time, healer. Or maybe something else." Hermione swallowed nervously again and blushed.
"This is a serious problem," the medic sighed heavily. "Believe me, if you've been given such potions for a long time, and even a year is a long time, creating the necessary antidote will be very expensive. After all, to create such potions, you need a potion maker who is at least an apprentice.
Granger stubbornly pressed her lips together:
"I just want to make sure I'm wrong.
"All right," nodded the healer. "Wait here, I'll go get some diagnostic potions. The test will cost you twenty-three galleons.
Hermione just sighed. She wanted to get up and leave, but she stubbornly promised herself she would finish what she had started.
The healer brought two vials of luminescent liquid.
"Now drink this potion," he nodded to the small flask, "and in five minutes we'll pour the second one... On this scroll.
The healer took out a parchment and placed it on the table.
"This lists most of the known potions for mental focus," he said, stroking the rough medical artefact. "It doesn't hurt. If you're ready, we can begin."
Without further hesitation, Hermione drank the potion in one gulp and grimaced involuntarily at the disgusting taste.
"Now we wait," said the healer cheerfully. Five minutes later, he poured the second flask onto the parchment and looked at it curiously. His smiling round face gradually became darker and darker, and finally he looked at her seriously:
"You were right, young sorceress," the healer said, handing her the sheet of parchment, and she took it fearfully in her hand. Staring at the names of the potions, some of which were glowing with luminescent lights, Hermione was overcome with indescribable horror. She had been fed various potions since her first year. There were friendship potions tuned to specific people, various potions that gradually changed one's character, and other junk that could almost completely change a person's personality over time. No love potions were found in her blood, but those who regularly poisoned her could apparently add them at any time.
She looked at the healer with a miserable expression and squeezed out:
"How much will it cost to cleanse me completely?
The healer chewed his lips for a moment, calculating, and replied:
"Seven hundred galleons now for the first course of potions and the same for the second. The second course will consolidate the effect achieved. The good news is that over the next year, your magic will reject any potions of this nature, even the most complex ones: you will immediately start to turn inside out as soon as you drink something from the list. The stronger the potion, the more powerful the cleansing reaction. But you must agree," smiled the healer, "it's a small price to pay to avoid falling into a trap. What's more, this effect will last for another eight years after our course. So, if you decide to do it," he spread his arms, "you are welcome.
"Just don't delay," the medic looked seriously at the girl, "another six months or a year and the changes will take hold and become permanent..."
Hermione calculated that at the current rate, she would need all her parents' income for six months, and she was devastated. Devastated, she nodded to the healer and left the office. Staring at her feet, she moved mindlessly down the corridor until she bumped into someone. There was a clattering sound as enchanted glass bubbles scattered across the floor, and she finally snapped out of her stupor. Imagine her surprise when she realised she had bumped into Draco Malfoy. He was standing in front of her in a yellow robe, looking irritated at the bubbles rolling down the corridor.
Taking a deep breath, probably to scold the clumsy cow, he suddenly stared at her face and recognised her.
"Granger!" Draco exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing daydreaming? Where are Potter and Weasley?" He looked around in confusion.
Then he carefully examined her pale face with its red nose and tear-stained eyes, and asked excitedly. "What happened, Granger? You look terrible!"
Then, suddenly making up his mind, he took out his wand and quickly gathered the bubbles with the help of "Accio." After that, the boy grabbed her by the hand and insistently dragged her along, muttering through clenched teeth, "Now let's take the medicine to the mentor, and then we'll go down to the dining room, where you can tell me everything."
Stunned, Hermione only came to her senses when she found herself at a table by the window and Draco handed her a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.
"Tell me," Malfoy ordered impatiently, looking at her intently. "Did they find some kind of dangerous disease? Why were you crying?"
And unexpectedly, Hermione told him everything she had learned from the doctor, all her fears and resentments.
When she fell silent, Malfoy looked at her in shock and disbelief.
"Well, well," the boy said, shaking his head in bewilderment. Then he narrowed his eyes angrily and said.
"And I always thought that such a smart girl was hanging out with two idiots? Always helping them, protecting them.
Hermione blushed. She had had such thoughts herself at times, but she had always dismissed them. She didn't understand why she had blurted it all out, especially to Malfoy, who was constantly at odds with Potter and her for good measure. But now, with him, it was easy and simple, as if Hermione had known him for a very long time.
"You know, Granger," Malfoy raised his grey eyes to her. "As an intern, I can get a small discount on various procedures and operations. I'll talk to your healer and tell him you're a distant relative of mine. Don't worry, I'll try to get you a discount, and you promise me you'll complete the course. I don't want to see you get caught up in the headmaster's intrigues. By the way, after the execution of the hippogriff that almost killed me, I saw you and your 'friends' walking past Black, the senior student," Hermione nodded. "Do you know where he went? I didn't see him on the train.
Granger hesitated a little, but since today was a day of revelations, she finally got to the moment when Cassius fought to save their lives, omitting some details...
"And then the werewolf lunged! And Black went for him — explosive.
"He almost dodged it, but the seventh-year got him anyway," Hermione continued excitedly.
"Then he led us to the castle and transported Snape to the hospital wing himself.
"Did the werewolf catch him?" Draco asked excitedly.
"No, definitely not, he cut off its head earlier," Hermione said, turning slightly pale.
"Did you see him this morning?" Malfoy asked.
"No," whispered the girl, "but the dean told me he was sent to Azkaban that same evening."
At these words, Draco's face turned deathly pale.
"Azkaban?!" he whispered in horror.
"Yes," Hermione nodded sadly.
***
Lucius paced around his office like a wild animal. Pale Narcissa and Draco watched him silently. Finally, he stopped and turned to them:
"I swear by magic, I will do everything to get my son out of Azkaban. That senile old fool has completely lost his mind. For the murder of two worthless scum, he sent a lord of the oldest family to Azkaban? This isn't the eighties when he could get away with it. I've already requested an extraordinary session of the Wizengamot. Today I'll talk to Fudge to have him transferred to the floor with the Dementors. It's next to the Dementors, but almost all the guards are on my payroll, so no one will dare to bully him. And then, after the trial, he'll be released immediately.
"That old bastard," he couldn't help saying again, shaking his fist. "If it weren't for that girl, we might never have found out where Cassius disappeared to."
"Draco," Narcissa looked at her son, "you say she's been drugged since her first year, and now she needs to have her body and magical source cleansed?" Draco nodded. "I suggest we pay for the entire procedure, whatever it costs, and give her some good protective amulets, as befits a young lady of pure blood. Including some from the mentalists," Narcissa frowned. "She has helped our family greatly." Lucius nodded in agreement:
"My people will find these Grangers and inform them.
A week passed, during which Hermione couldn't bring herself to tell her parents about the problem. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Hermione heard her father open it from the second floor, and voices came from downstairs. A little later, her mother knocked on the door and asked her to come down to the living room. Downstairs, she saw a tall, stocky wizard who looked like one of Draco Malfoy's friends. His powerful figure barely fit in the chair.
"Hello," she said uncertainly to the guest.
"Good morning, Miss Granger," the man replied in a deep bass voice, then turned to her parents.
"My name is Crabbe. I have been sent to you by Lord Lucius Abraxas Malfoy. He has been informed of the situation with your daughter." At these words, Hector and Emma exchanged worried glances.
"For certain reasons, the lord is offering to help cure your daughter," he said, looking at them seriously. "We must act immediately; too much time has been lost. Mungo will prepare a private ward for Hermione and the best potions. Everything will be supervised by the personal healer of the most noble and ancient Malfoy family. If you wish, you may be with your daughter during the operations. Here are the keys to Mungo's. When you are ready, hold them tightly and they will transport you to the hospital," he handed them three enchanted metal plates. "That is all Lord Malfoy asked me to convey.
The man rose to his full height and, accompanied by a stunned Hector, hurried towards the exit. When her father returned, she and her mother stared at their daughter, and Emma, her voice trembling slightly, ordered,
"Now tell us what really happened!
Hermione began to talk about the examination at the infirmary, the high cost of the operations, and how she didn't want to burden her parents with her problems.
"Why did Lord Malfoy decide to help you?" Hector Granger asked excitedly.
"I don't know, Dad," Hermione replied honestly. "I've only seen him a few times and never spoken to him.
"Then why?" Emma asked in surprise.
"Probably because Draco asked them to help me," the girl blurted out. "Draco is my classmate at Hogwarts, Lord Malfoy's son.
"And how often does your classmate help girls in trouble?" her father grinned.
"He's not mine!" Hermione protested immediately.
Her mother placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"I don't think we should turn down help from a magical aristocrat. After all, they know that world much better than we do.
"And if such an opportunity arises in our world, we will also help these people," Hector Granger concluded.
The next day, the entire Granger family found themselves in the foyer of Mungo's Hospital. While the adults, stunned by the sudden change of location, turned their heads in curiosity, Hermione approached the reception desk and introduced herself. The nurse handed them bracelets with magical keys to the ward and told them the room number and floor. Hermione returned to her parents, and together they went in search of the ward indicated on the bracelets. Once in the room, Hermione looked at the window with its beige curtains and sat down on the bed, feeling confused. Her parents sat down on chairs nearby, and five minutes later, a familiar healer entered the ward.
"Hello, everyone. I see you've decided to go ahead with the full cleansing of your body and the source...
All the operations were successful, although Hermione was very anxious. She watched in horror as, after the administration of some medicine, the veins on her body pulsed darkly in a black network, and a foul-smelling slime began to ooze from all her pores. She vomited and periodically lost consciousness. Her frightened parents sat on chairs, nervously clutching each other's hands and trying to support her with their gaze. The healers constantly waved their wands, sometimes casting healing spells, sometimes cleansing her body and bed. Finally, it was over, and Hermione leaned back wearily on the pillow. Her pale parents, who were finally allowed to approach their daughter, sat down on either side of her bed and took her hands.
"What a nightmare," Emma stammered excitedly, "And all that nastiness was inside you?
Hector Granger frowned. If he had the chance, he would never have sent his daughter back to that school.
There was a knock at the door, and a grey-haired old man in a yellow healer's robe entered the ward, followed by Draco Malfoy, also wearing a lemon-coloured robe. He looked anxiously at Hermione and nodded encouragingly.
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," said the old man. "I am the personal healer of the Malfoy family. I have been asked to monitor your daughter's operations.
He waved his wand and cast several diagnostic spells, then turned to Hermione's parents.
"Well, what can I say, everything is more than fine. She will stay here in the ward for another week, she needs to take a course of restorative potions, and then you can take her home. Of course, you can visit the girl every day if you wish. "As I understand it, you've been given multiple portkeys to Mungo's?" The Grangers just nodded. "Good, then I'll leave you now, if you don't mind. I've got a lot of work to do." The old man smiled warmly and left.
"Are you Draco, Hermione's classmate?" Emma asked curiously.
"Yes, Mrs Granger," Malfoy bowed his head.
"Hector Granger," Hermione's father introduced himself. "I am very glad that your family helped us. If you need anything in the Muggle world, feel free to contact us. You can count on our support, whatever we can do." He shook Malfoy's hand firmly.
"Well, we have to go," Emma smiled. "We'll leave you young people to it, we have to get back to work. Draco, Hermione."
After saying goodbye, the parents left the room, and Hermione looked at the boy a little embarrassed, pulling the blanket up to her chin.
"Thank you, Malfoy," she said, blushing slightly.
"How about we use our first names?" Draco smiled. "At least outside of school. You helped our family a little, and my mum would like to see you. Would you like to meet her during the Christmas holidays?"
Hermione shook her head in amazement. Everything that was happening seemed like a dream. The eternally contemptuous Malfoy was talking to her in a friendly manner. She caught herself feeling no affection whatsoever for Potter and Weasley. She could be critical of Dumbledore and McGonagall, but not like before, when she would foam at the mouth defending the professors. In fact, her mind was working completely differently. It was as if a veil had been lifted from her eyes. No, she still wanted to study and was ready to defend her beliefs to anyone, but she no longer felt blind devotion to her now former friends.
"I don't know who was bullying you, although I have my suspicions," Draco said seriously. "It's not that easy to put something in your food at Hogwarts, unless you control the house elves," he grinned crookedly. "And never look the headmaster or our dean in the eye. They can read minds, so until you have a good protective amulet that can at least warn you of an intrusion into your mind, it's best not to expose yourself. I wouldn't want the headmaster to find out that we helped break your bond with the 'forces of light,'" Malfoy grinned crookedly. "You don't still think the magical world is a fairy tale, do you?"
After chatting for over an hour, Draco was forced to leave, followed by his mentor, who was unhappy with his trainee's prolonged absence. Malfoy promised to drop by more often and gave his word that he would bring something to read. As he left, he carefully closed the curtains, and the room was plunged into semi-darkness.
Hermione sighed with relief that everything had finally worked out and stretched out on the bed, drifting off to sleep.
Part 34. The Weasleys' dirty secrets and goodbye Azkaban
"Black, get out," came the guards' discontented shout first thing in the morning. Cassius opened his eyes in confusion and got up. Two prison guards were standing by the open bars, staring at him.
"Well, how long are you going to rummage around, Dementor's burp?" the red-haired guard yelled again.
Cassius got up from his bunk and, rubbing his eyes, walked towards the exit. The fatter prison guard immediately moved two steps to the side and pointed his stick at Malfoy.
"Don't you move, Black," he warned, glaring at the prisoner.
"Where are we going?" Cassius asked sleepily.
"Follow me," replied the red-haired guard. "You're free, lad. Tomorrow you'll be back at your mother's teat."
Cassius moved forward, his eyes fixed on the red-haired guard's back. "Too bad my plans to pump up my source for free have failed so quickly," Black thought irritably.
"Well, what's the matter, aren't you happy?" the joking guard asked cheerfully on the way.
However, judging by the emotions coming from this man, he did not feel any joy from the conversation. On the contrary, he was filled with malice and a desire to revel in the prisoners' pain. "These are the real Dementors here," Black thought grimly.
Cassius didn't know where the exit from this prison was, but he felt that it must be somewhere below, while they were only going up. Finally, in a corridor where a cold, piercing wind blew and a dim light shone through a barred window at the end, revealing a small patch of sky, the guard stopped and pointed his stick to the left.
"Come in, Black, this is your new home.
Cassius, not sharing the guard's amusement, entered the cell silently, apparently spoiling his fun.
"Why don't you ask why we're not free, where we've brought you?" the red-haired joker grinned, winking at his partner.
"These noblemen are not like ordinary people," spat the fatter one. "They always act like they're some kind of gods. Lords... They should marry Morgana!
The doors slammed shut, and the red-haired guard spat contemptuously at Cassius's feet:
"What's the matter, puppy? Not having fun? Heh-heh..."
Black waited with a stony expression on his face until the sound of the guards' footsteps faded into the distance, then smiled. True, his smile was sinister. A stupid overseer, just like a Muggle with a stick. Only a complete idiot would throw away his secret weapon. Even a simple village grimoire is capable of turning a person into a zombie with a single hair. And what could a certified black magician do with the saliva of his enemy? Carefully wiping the results of the red-haired merry fellow's stupidity with a torn piece of his robe, Cassius placed the damp piece of robe in front of him with a malicious grin.
At that moment, a muffled voice came from the neighbouring cell:
"Hey, kid, don't mope. The guards are rarely here, it's mostly Dementors. If you've heard anything about Occlumency, get your shields ready. Otherwise, you won't last long. The Death Eaters are on this level, and above us there's only the sky... and Dementors...
"What's your name?" shouted another. "I'm Antonin Dolohov, and this is my friend, Augustus Rukwood. Behind us are Malfoy, Jackson, Travers, and Lestrange." Further down the corridor are the Carrow siblings," he waved his hand down the corridor, and sluggish greetings rang out from behind the bars.
"And my name is Cassius Black," the boy introduced himself. The conversations of the prisoners, someone's muttering at the end of the corridor, shrill female laughter, all fell silent...
"Black?"" Dolokhov asked in surprise and fell silent.
"One Black ran away, and they put the other one in?" someone further away shouted, probably Jagson.
Dolokhov wanted to ask something else, but suddenly the temperature in the corridor dropped sharply and a feeling of melancholy and despair began to grow in the prisoners' hearts. In Cassius's field of vision, just near the window, a dark figure in a hood appeared and moved slowly along the cells. Stopping periodically, it approached the bars, and then curses and swearing flew from inside, and at times sobs and wheezing. The closer the creature came to Black's cell, the better he felt. The ache in his back, which Cassius had managed to rest off after spending the night on an uncomfortable bunk, disappeared. He felt like running or even flying on a broomstick. Black felt like a sweet tooth in a pastry shop, and when the Dementor approached his cell, the mage released a little energy in response to the monster's mental probe. The previously indifferent silhouette suddenly stopped, and despite the hood almost completely covering the creature's head, Black thought the monster had frozen in joyful surprise. There was a gentle knock on Cassius's mind, and, allowing access to silent communication, Black heard the creature's rustling whisper:
"We were told that you would come here sooner or later, mage, but we didn't believe it. And now I can feel your power myself. Have you come to help us?" There was so much hope in the creature's mental speech that Cassius rubbed his hands together.
"Yes. I am ready to help you. When night falls, come to me, and I will try to free each of you from your unnecessary energy. But we will need to distract the other prisoners so that no one can understand what is happening here." The Dementor nodded his hood and floated further down the corridor.
"Alive?" Dolokhov's cracked voice rang out again, but Cassius did not want to talk yet. He looked again at the piece of cloth he had used to wipe the guard's saliva and decided it was time for lunch.
John Vitti, a red-haired wizard of Irish descent, was a man of simple origins. His father was a wizard, and his mother was an ordinary Muggle who worked in a weaving factory. After wandering around the wizarding world, even spending a couple of years loitering in the back alleys of Knockturn Alley, John finally found a decent place by his standards — Azkaban prison. Using his position, he took revenge on all the prisoners for his failed life, for the fact that none of the girls he liked ever agreed to date him. He hated his former classmates at Hogwarts, even though he studied in the friendliest house, Hufflepuff. He found himself in this job and was even happy at times, which sometimes attracted the attention of the Dementors, despite his protective amulet.
Witty had just entered the dining hall, planning to eat well and then go to the second level to thoroughly mock the newbies who had been caught in the raid in the Dungeon. There were some pretty thieves there, and Witty even decided to try to negotiate with them in exchange for an increased food ration. Standing in line, he suddenly felt his hands begin to load food onto his plate on their own. After piling his plate high, which even made the cook laugh, Vitti sat down at a table facing the wall and took out his wand. He cast a "dimino" spell, shrunk the tray of food and carefully hid it in his fist. Then, against his will, he stood up and walked towards the exit, gradually rising higher and higher. What was happening was so terrible that John tried to scream all the way, but his vocal cords did not produce a sound, his lungs worked calmly in rhythm with his steps, and his expression did not change in the slightest. Passing through the corridor, he stopped near the cell where they had brought young Black and his partner that morning.
"Go in and put the tray on the table, cheerful one," came the cold voice of the prisoner, "and get cleaning, you goat, but don't raise any dust."
Trying to resist inside his mind, so hard that it felt like something was about to burst in his head, Vitti nevertheless obediently carried out all the orders of the terrifying Black. First, he set the table like a proper butler, then began to clean the cell, scrubbing all the corners and walls of dirt and cobwebs, humming a cheerful song at Black's command. While the prisoner was eating his fill, Vitti, inwardly weeping over the unequal struggle, cleaned everything, removed the dirt and conjured up a new mattress and pillow on the bed.
"My back hurts from your beds," Black complained. "Try harder, my friend, and arrange the pillow nicely." John felt with horror how his body was obeying the orders of the arrogant brat. The terrible magician looked at the frightened guard and spat out:
"Now you're a slave, Johnny. While I'm here, you'll listen to my orders," Black's face split into a wicked grin. "And then you'll kill a couple of your friends and spend the rest of your life in one of these cells. In the rubbish that serves as your memory, I managed to see your whole life, and I believe that Azkaban is just the place for degenerates like you.
"Hey, Dolohov!" Cassius suddenly shouted. "The kind warden Vitti will be coming to you shortly to clean the cell with magic and change the beds. Don't try to attack him, we still need this bag of shit.
The stunned prisoners couldn't believe their eyes. The zombie-like guard silently approached the bars and cast one cleansing spell after another, after which the mattresses and pillows became like new, and the old hanging bunks stopped creaking. However, by the third cell, he fell face down.
"Did he run out of energy?" Cassius wondered. "What a weakling, this Vitti." An hour later, the guard stirred and began to mechanically get up.
"All right, Johnny, go get something to eat, and come back tomorrow to finish up. Bring me some food tomorrow, and make it plenty," Cassius laughed maliciously.
After digging into Vitti's mind and watching him torment the prisoners for years, Black had no pity for this wizard. Loa, whom Cassius had planted as a guard, would have a field day when Black no longer needed the redhead's services.
After this performance, even Bellatrix fell silent in her cell. The Devourers, who had served thirteen years, had never seen anything like it. Their new neighbour collapsed, judging by the sounds, onto freshly starched linen and within a minute was snoring, oblivious to the cold and the Dementors.
In the evening, when the Death Eaters were lost in restless sleep full of nightmares, the most terrifying creatures in magical England made a pilgrimage to Cassius. Black freed them from the energy of souls accumulated over centuries, and the power of his source grew exponentially. If at first he felt like an apprentice, and in some respects no better than a Hogwarts graduate, which he actually was, by the end of this crazy night-time marathon, Cassius felt that his source was turning into something much more powerful.
The channel to the beyond had increased several times over. The amount of magic he could now wield without fear of burning his channels also increased tenfold. What's more, Black now felt no limits to his abilities. It seemed to him that the Dementors had simply transferred an ocean of energy to him. His sensitivity to the power of magic, its radius, all took on completely new shades.
For example, he could now see the dark marks on the Death Eaters' hands and could make out the torn threads that simply dangled in the air, unable to overcome Azkaban's defences. He finally understood his teacher's explanation of what the black mark was, how to put it on and how to remove it. He could taste the madness of the Lestranges and feel the stomach of the gluttonous Witty clench in the barracks on the first floor. Such power was both exhilarating and frightening. Cassius now felt that if he were to meet Dumbledore here, the old man would not last a minute.
Cassius understood that all these self-assured thoughts were imposed on him by the overflowing source of magic. He felt as if he had drunk a couple of glasses of strong firewhisky on an empty stomach. His body was bursting with the urge to go and destroy everything around him, but with considerable effort, he sat down in his favourite meditation position and drove away the bloodthirsty thoughts. Now, on the contrary, he needed to work on his inner world, which was now like a stormy ocean.
With great difficulty and effort, Cassius began to rebuild, brick by brick, the bastions of his mind that had been destroyed by the frenzied streams of energy. He even somehow missed Vitti's arrival with food... He didn't see John, like a zombie, continue to clean the prisoners' cells... How he fell again, already at Carrow's bars and under her malicious laughter, trying to get up like a cow on ice.
Finally, towards evening, Cassius breathed more calmly, waved his hand to reheat his cold dinner, and began to prepare himself for the next night's meeting with the Dementors. There were many creatures in the castle, all eager to get rid of the souls they had accumulated, and Cassius wanted to become stronger, even stronger. The next evening, the Dementors lined up again outside Black's cell. Today there were even more of them. Everything went according to plan until the young wizard suddenly passed out from overexertion.
Cassius came to on the cell floor, unable to move. The second encounter with the Dementors had taken a heavier toll on his body. He had a persistent feeling that the source absorbing such amounts of magic was about to burst. "I won't survive a third time," he realised clearly, "I'll just burst like a balloon." Yesterday, one of the Dementors had said just that:
"More energy will only harm you, don't rush to become stronger. We've been patient for centuries — waiting a little longer is no problem for us."
Now Cassius had to undergo lengthy training with his new abilities. The source had grown significantly, and the amount of energy he was able to put into a spell had also increased considerably. But there were problems. He needed to increase his control over his magic, otherwise some of the power emitted by the source would simply spill out into the surrounding world. And for that, he needed meditation and control exercises.
Once again overcoming his weakness, Cassius grabbed the edge of the bed with trembling hands, lifted himself up and somehow climbed onto it. Falling into his inner world, he continued to build the structure, trying not to pay attention to the burning and pain throughout his body. The torture in the magical channels was incredibly exhausting, but Black endured. By morning, oblivion finally came, his exhausted body simply could not withstand such a radical restructuring and shut down.
***
The extraordinary meeting, organised by Lord Green Grass at Malfoy's request, began quite normally. Dumbledore considered himself to be quite familiar with the neutrals and expected more whining about international trade, but what Green Grass was saying now was infuriating. The regular attendees of the meetings, the Lords, the Ladies, their representatives, were all in an uproar. Even the Minister and his deputy, sitting in the front row, watched the growing scandal with glee.
"Honourable gentlemen!" Gringrass began in the voice of an excellent orator, "I have received information about a terrible incident at Hogwarts. After the final exams, the day before the children left for the holidays, with the help of his werewolf friend, whom our esteemed chairman for some reason appointed as Professor DADA this year, a fugitive criminal broke into the school and took the children hostage. And one of them was none other than Harry Potter, whom you all know well!
The audience erupted in angry cries, only the faction of light-wielders watched their leader with surprise and hope.
"Ahem," continued Green Grass. "A young wizard, a graduate of this year, saw a group of adults and children walking towards the forbidden forest. As it was already evening, he naturally wondered why they were going there! The wizard recognised the Azkaban fugitive and was immediately attacked by him. Gringotts fell silent and, clearing his throat, continued, gradually getting more excited:
"He destroyed the Azkaban escapee, but he was attacked by a werewolf, our criminal's friend, Remus Lupin.
The audience buzzed in disbelief, and even among the light-hearted faction, there were those who wanted to ask Dumbledore questions. After all, many of them had children at the school, and the presence of a mad monster who could maim students without controlling himself shocked even those like Augusta Longbottom, who kept her astonished gaze fixed on the impassive face of the Wizengamot chairman.
"Who is this hero who neutralised the monster?" Dolores Umbridge asked in a saccharine voice from the front row. "I believe that such achievements warrant him being awarded the Order of Merlin, Third Class. A wizard saved our national hero — this is no joke."
Once again, a rumble rose from the entire audience, expressing agreement with the assistant minister.
"Lord Green Grass, please continue," Fudge's voice rang out across the hall. "We eagerly await the rest of your story."
Greengrass cleared his throat again and looked at Dumbledore with malice.
"And then, gentlemen," the wizard continued angrily, "things went terribly wrong. Instead of rewarding the hero, Dumbledore had him arrested by the Aurors and sent to Azkaban. Lord, gentlemen, to Azkaban without trial. It's as if we've returned to the times of the Unspeakable and we live in constant danger," he said angrily, banging on the table. "What do you say to that, Mr Chairman?"
The noise of voices began to grow rapidly, everyone wanting to express their outrage at the trampling of the historical privileges of the lords of magical England, who could only be judged by the full assembly of the Wizengamot and no one else. Pale as a ghost, Rufus Scrimgeour stood up and shot sparks from his wand to attract attention. The noise began to subside, and finally he was able to speak.
"Gentlemen," Scrimgeour said hoarsely, his voice trembling with nervousness. "I swear by magic that I knew nothing about this. Lumos, Nox. I will find out who abused their position and brought such shame upon our department. The scoundrels will be dismissed immediately for exceeding their authority.
Head of the DMF Amelia Bones also swore that she knew nothing about the incident and had not conducted any investigation into the werewolf attack on the students or the capture of the fugitive criminal. The posters with Sirius Black were still hanging all over magical England, and no one had bothered to take them down. And it turned out that the criminal had been killed a week ago. Now all the factions looked at the chairman of the Wizengamot in bewilderment, while Albus frantically searched his mind for an excuse.
"I think it's time to remove Dumbledore from his position as chairman of the Wizengamot. Old age, heavy workload, the Triwizard Tournament coming up next school year..." Malfoy's cold voice rang out. "Perhaps, esteemed headmaster, you have simply forgotten that you sent a representative of the sacred twenty-eight to Azkaban without trial?" Shouts of support for this decision rang out across the hall. None of the honourable lords wanted to set a precedent whereby one of their own could be sent to Azkaban by a simple decision of the authorities.
Under pressure from the Wizengamot, who was unusually unanimous on this occasion, Dumbledore saw no other option but to resign. He tried to explain that Cassius Black was also a murderer and deserved to be in Azkaban, but even his supporters did not understand him. The headmaster's position was too weak in this matter.
Therefore, the vote was very quick, and no one raised their hand against it. Dumbledore was stripped of his position as Headmaster and expelled from the Wizengamet Court. Cornelius Fudge temporarily took over his duties. Aurors were immediately sent to the island to bring Lord Black to the Wizengamet Court.
The Wizengamot voted unanimously to release him when Black was brought to the meeting. First, he was seated in a chair in the middle of the hall, like any other criminal. The shackles clinked softly as the wizard settled into his seat. Malfoy looked anxiously at his son, searching for signs of abuse and the effects of the Dementors.
"Cassius Black," boomed Fudge, who was presiding over the meeting. "The Wizengamot has carefully reviewed the charges brought by the former Chief Warlock in this case and found nothing in your actions that violates the laws of England. By the authority of the Magical Court, I declare you free, and all charges are dropped!"
The hall erupted in applause. The chains binding Black fell away, and he rose from his chair.
"Honourable Lords, Ladies, Chairman," Cassius bowed gracefully. "I am grateful to you on behalf of the Black family for restoring justice. I have absolutely no regrets that on that fateful evening I was able to save the lives of the children and Professor Snape from a monster and his friend, who betrayed his comrades in the Order of the Phoenix. Everyone is alive, our national hero Harry Potter is safe. And the fact that, at a critical moment, I had to act decisively and destroy the murderer who was the right hand of the unnamed one," sighed the wizard, "may have saved Hogwarts from much more serious problems. The destruction of an aggressive werewolf," continued Cassius, "is not something I consider worthy of your attention. Mad dogs must be destroyed! If a werewolf cannot control his inner beast," Black flashed his eyes, "then he is unworthy of being among wizards!"
Madam Umbridge was the first to stand up and applaud enthusiastically, followed by the rest. In the corridor, Cassius, walking towards the atrium, was overtaken by the Minister and his entourage. Noticing Black, he stopped and then approached him.
"Excellent speech, my boy. I am glad that Hogwarts is producing wizards who can stand up for themselves. In a few days, the Quidditch World Cup will be held in England, and I would like to invite you to my box for the final."
"I'd be delighted to accept your invitation, Minister," Cassius said with a smile, taking the invitation token.
"See you then, Mr Black." Cornelius Fudge hurried away. Cassius shook his head and headed for the exit. He couldn't wait to see his family. He had noticed his father's anxiety in the courtroom and wanted to see them as soon as possible to reassure them and tell them what had happened.
***
Molly, Fred and George went shopping. The twins needed to get some ingredients for their constant experiments, and Molly decided to make sure they didn't buy anything forbidden. Ron and Ginny were sitting in the kitchen drinking tea and eating biscuits, while Arthur was at the Ministry, as usual.
Ron teased his sister a little about her crush on his friend Harry Potter, and she responded with a weak retort. According to her sarcastic words, no normal girl would ever look at Ron with his personality and laziness. When the teasing became nastier and the brother and sister started to really argue, the fireplace suddenly flared up and the head of the family appeared.
Arthur greeted the children, took off his outer clothing, and then sat down at the table. Ginny immediately poured her father some tea and placed a plate of pastries closer to him.
"What's the argument about?" the head of the family asked cheerfully. The children immediately dumped their problems on him. Arthur listened to them, frowning more and more, and then said:
"Yes, it's hard to think of a better time to have a serious talk.
After casting "Revilio," he realised that no one else was in the house and looked seriously at the children.
"What I'm about to tell you must remain a secret. What's more, you must both swear that you will not reveal my secret, even under Veritaserum. You may only pass this information on to your children. Ron and Ginny were moved by the moment and read the oath in unison.
"Good," Arthur concluded with satisfaction. "Now listen.
It turns out that the Weasley family has long since found its own way to survive. Without possessing any special magic or intelligence, they purposefully improved their blood by marrying or taking spouses from powerful magical families. Naturally, no one wanted to give their daughters or sons to some poor beggars. But one of the Weasleys had long ago developed a potion that was similar in effect to the infamous "Amortentia," but was undetectable in the victim's blood. The victim simply began to feel an inexplicable attraction to the Weasleys, and the spell could only be broken by destroying the poisoner. In addition, the victim's fertility increased significantly, which further contributed to the survival of the family of red-haired tricksters. Arthur looked closely at his children and said,
"Each of my children will receive or has already received the recipe for the potion and instructions on how to administer it to the victim. It works the same on all intelligent beings, so it must be used with great caution. After all, anyone under its influence will love you until the day you die, and I want you to live happily. You must be extremely careful and choose your partner wisely!
Ginny's eyes lit up with excitement and she even jumped up and down on her chair with joy.
"I want to pour it into Harry Potter!" she squealed. "He's rich, pure-blooded, handsome, and just like me, he loves Quidditch.
Her father just shrugged. "Harry is a rich and kind boy, and if you like him, I don't mind you getting married." Ron puffed up and blurted out:
"I don't want to get married at all, I'm fine at home. And then I'll have to put up with some girl like our Ginny. She'll eat my brains out!" His sister laughed merrily, "Come on, Ron, what if, God forbid, she makes you get off your lazy bum? Makes you work?" Ron shuddered at his sister's cheerful laughter.
"By the way," continued the younger Weasley, "how do you like your Granger? At least that nerd will do your homework for you, and then when she grows up, she'll work too.
"Oh, come on," Ron said, scared. "She'll drive me crazy with her constant nagging. No, she's a good friend, but marry her? No way...
"All right, children," Arthur rose from the table, "everything will be fine, and I have to get to work. Harry and Hermione will be here soon, you should both tidy up your rooms.
***
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