======= Part 54. Power is not enough to take, it must be held ==========
Today was a clear autumn day. The sun illuminated the sloping roofs of the houses in Hogsmeade and the towers of Hogwarts. Madam Rosmerta hummed as she wiped down the sparkling bar counter. There were few customers, and the woman had time to leaf through the latest issue of Witch's Weekly lying in front of her. The surprisingly good Scottish weather allowed Hogwarts students to stroll peacefully through the streets, peeking into shops and cafes. Therefore, Rosmerta expected many visitors and good earnings today. Just then, a crowd of senior students, arguing heatedly about something, poured out of a sports shop, waving their arms. "Maybe they've released a new model of broomstick?" the café owner wondered to herself. "Now they'll be looking for a café to continue their conversation."
The café door creaked open and the new Minister of Magic for England appeared in the doorway. He squinted and strode confidently towards the counter.
"Hello, Mr. Scrimgeour," Madam Rosmerta smiled warmly at him.
Rufus also greeted her warmly, nodding to his old acquaintance. He walked into the hall, sat down at a table, ordered a mead, for which the establishment was famous, and began to leisurely study the latest issue of the Daily Prophet, clearly waiting for someone. More and more visitors arrived, and Rosmerta regretfully put down her magazine. Potter and the Weasley siblings entered the café. Seeing Scrimgeour, they approached him and began to sit down around the table.
"Hello, sir," the senior students greeted the minister. "We received your owl with a request for a meeting. What do you need from the students of Hogwarts?"
Scrimgeour took out his wand and cast a protective spell, then pulled several items from his robe pocket and laid them on the table: a small volume of Beedle the Bard's Tales, a box with a Snitch, and a Deluminator. Then the minister looked closely at the teenagers, as if trying to read something in their faces. The Gryffindors stared in surprise at the items laid out on the table, without the slightest sign of sudden enlightenment.
Not waiting for any particular reaction, Rufus grunted and pulled out a parchment covered in green ink. Solemnly unfolding the document, the minister began to read dryly: "The will of Albus Percival Wulfric Dumbledore, in the part concerning Harry Potter, Ronald and Ginny Weasley."
The surprised Gryffindors kept their eyes on him, waiting to hear what was written, and Scrimgeour, trying again to read their faces, continued disappointedly: "To Harry Potter, I bequeath this book. I hope he will find in it protection and guidance."
"What do you think of that, Mr Potter?" Scrimgeour squinted at Harry as he handed the book to the teenager.
"I don't know, sir," the young man shrugged. "Probably Dumbledore thought it would help me deal with Voldemort. Like, I could hit him over the head with it?"
"Heh heh," Ron chuckled, but immediately fell silent when Scrimgeour gave him a stern look.
"Perhaps there's some kind of message for you hidden in the text of the fairy tales?" he continued seriously, watching Potter's expression closely.
"I doubt it, sir. The headmaster would have had to tell me some kind of code beforehand," Harry smiled crookedly. "Dumbledore always preferred to keep me in the dark, probably for my own good.
Scrimgeour sighed disappointedly and picked up the parchment again: "Ginny Weasley, I bequeath this Snitch to you. May it serve as a guiding star in your choice of future profession."
"Are you going to start a sports career, Miss Weasley?" the minister asked, handing her the box with the Snitch.
"Yes, sir," Ginny smiled. "After school, I plan to join the Holyhead Harpies."
"I see," Scrimgeour chewed his lips and picked up the parchment again: "To Ronald Weasley, I leave my wonderful deluminator. So that he can turn the lights on and off without getting up from his chair."
Ginny couldn't hold it in any longer and burst out laughing as she examined her inheritance.
"It's just a deluminator," Scrimgeour muttered thoughtfully. "Was Dumbledore really concerned that you had to get up to turn off the lights, Mr. Weasley? Or was he perhaps a distant relative of yours?"
Ron blinked stupidly and stammered,
"Er, um, I don't think so, sir. Dumbledore and I didn't talk very often. Well, he did come to our house, of course. But more to my father's than to mine, I suppose. He is the headmaster, after all, and I'm just a student at Hogwarts.
"That's obvious, Mr. Weasley," the minister sneered. "Thinking is clearly not your strong point.
Ron blushed indignantly and puffed out his chest, folding his arms across his chest.
"Mr Potter," Scrimgeour looked seriously at Harry. "I think we should join forces in the fight against terrorists. All you need to do is give a few interviews to the Daily Prophet saying that you support the Ministry's policies. In return, I promise to protect you in your future career.
"You allowed Umbridge to work at the Ministry instead of sending her to Azkaban for torturing students. — Harry angrily held out his wrist with the scar to Scrimgeour, where the words "I will not lie" were clearly visible. — I have no place in a government like this, Minister!"
"It's politics, Mr Potter, and sometimes we all have to make deals with our conscience. Madam Umbridge, from your point of view, is a sadist and a bad teacher," Rufus tried to catch Harry's eye, "but in her position, she accomplishes many important tasks.
The Gryffindor exhaled loudly, expressing his opinion of such excuses.
"Dumbledore also bequeathed you the sword of Gryffindor, but as you understand, that is completely impossible!" Scrimgeour grimaced, sighing heavily.
"What do you mean, impossible?" Ron shouted. "If the headmaster bequeathed it to Harry, then hand over the sword, Minister, sir!"
"The sword was not Dumbledore's personal property, but belongs to Hogwarts," Scrimgeour shrugged. "It was irresponsible of the headmaster to include it in his will. Why not just leave the whole castle to someone, then? To you, for example, Mr. Weasley," Scrimgeour said, looking at Ron with a sneer.
The red-haired boy frowned even more, hid the Deluminator in his pocket, and muttered something under his breath.
Potter looked at Scrimgeour with fading hope, then couldn't resist leaning over the table and whispering,
"Sir, are you sure there's nothing else in the will? No strategy for defeating Voldemort, no additional instructions from the headmaster, nothing?"
Scrimgeour shook his head and looked at Harry sympathetically:
"I'm sorry, Mr Potter, but there's nothing else. If you can't shed any light on the meaning of these gifts, then I'm afraid I'm powerless to help you.
After sitting in silence for a few more awkward minutes, pondering the meaning of the inheritance, the teenagers began to say goodbye to the minister. Harry vaguely promised Scrimgeour his support, and Scrimgeour, just as vaguely, promised to set up an Auror post in Hogsmeade in case of trouble at Hogwarts.
Stepping out into the hot autumn sun, Ginny smiled thoughtfully. She decided that the old man knew about her passion for Quidditch and had given her the golden Snitch so that she would not stray from her chosen path. Ron wondered how he would flick the artefact, scaring passers-by with its fading light, while Harry simply stuffed the book into his pocket without a second thought. He had never liked reading, especially children's stories. Harry couldn't figure out what the old man was hinting at with these gifts, what clues he had hidden in them, and tried disappointedly to get the mystery out of his head.
***
After lunch, Hermione Granger sat gloomily in the faculty common room, rereading her grandfather's letter. Over the summer, the old man had managed to bring the girl up to the level of an apprentice. Having passed the family rituals, the Gryffindor girl gained a much deeper understanding of potion-making and developed a sincere liking for Snape. Now she understood his nitpicking and his dissatisfaction with the talentless sheep. She sincerely couldn't understand how others couldn't see the simplicity and elegance of a boiling cauldron, because potions were the pinnacle of magical art.
But it wasn't potions that troubled Hermione, it was her feelings. She was at a crossroads and didn't know what to do. Her relationship with Draco was steadily developing, and she was very impressed by the Slytherin's attention. Malfoy had grown up, become handsome, and was truly beautiful. He had the aristocratic beauty that had been nurtured in his children by dozens of generations of his ancestors. What's more, he was always gentle and caring towards her. They spent a lot of time together, somehow managing to hide their relationship from the other students.
But in his last letter, her grandfather once again explained that her relationship with Malfoy would lead to nothing good. To preserve the Durgon-Granger family name, she would have to marry someone else. The Malfoys were cursed, and no one could change that. Hermione didn't want to break up, but she didn't know what to do, trying just to live in the here and now. However, her grandfather said outright that this was her last year at Hogwarts, after which she would have to make a final choice of partner. Her great-grandfather had heard from his acquaintances about the Death Eaters gaining influence again and warned Hermione not to get involved. As the heiress of her family, she would not be touched if she did not get into a fight, and the old wizard did not care who was in power, as did most of the provincial residents.
Suddenly, a broad hand fell on the pensieve Gryffindor's shoulder, and Ron Weasley, who had grown a lot over the last year, sat down next to her, pressing her close to his side.
"Hermione, why are you so sad?" the redhead smiled cheerfully, and Hermione was hit by the smell of what he had eaten for lunch.
"Let me go, Ronald Weasley!" the girl hissed angrily, trying to break free.
Potter's best friend reluctantly loosened his grip and looked at her with a smirk.
"What, did you drink Snape's 'Elixir of Uncontrollable Tears'? Why are you acting like an aristocrat, Hermione? Be more normal!"
Granger was simply infuriated that the redhead, with his Nargles, had decided that she was now his girlfriend. Hermione figured out that the redhead, with the help of his sister, had been trying to slip her some magical concoction similar to Love Potion, but the Gryffindor, who had been studying potions intensively for the last few years and had also undergone more than one ancestral ritual, could now easily sense any changes in the composition of food without resorting to identifying spells. For his boorish behaviour, she had already cursed Weasley more than once with weak but hurtful curses, which had sent him running to the hospital wing.
"Ron! You. Not my. Boy. Get lost!" Hermione growled, standing up. "And if you come near me again, I'll make you bald for a month. And Madam Pomfrey won't be able to undo it."
"Did you know that Headmaster Dumbledore left a will for us and included me in the circle of the chosen ones?" Ron said cheekily, taking out his Deluminator. "Look. The lights will go out in a second."
He threw back the lid of a small case, and all the magical fireflies immediately flew inside the cylinder. On the side of the Deluminator, a golden inscription flashed: "Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."
Weasley opened the deluminator, and the lights returned.
"See?" Ron waved the artefact in front of him. "Headmaster Dumbledore knew we were meant to be together. I'm your treasure, Granger, it's just that your heart hasn't realised it yet!"
"Ronald Weasley, you're an idiot!" the girl snorted and went into her room.
That evening, after receiving a message from her Slytherin, the Gryffindor girl quietly went on a date. Hermione climbed the Astronomy Tower, and there, on the open platform, stood Draco Malfoy, looking towards the Forbidden Forest. His blond hair fluttered in the light breeze, and the boy didn't even seem to notice her arrival.
"Draco?" Hermione called timidly, and he immediately turned to her and walked towards her.
"Hi, Hermione," Malfoy smiled, kissing her. "You look charming as always."
"You look pensive," Granger remarked, "and you didn't even notice me coming out onto the clearing.
"I did... An owl brought a message from home today." Draco smiled and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I'm going to have a sister, can you imagine?"
"What?" Hermione exclaimed in surprise. "But how... I was told... Damn it."
Draco looked closely at the blushing girl.
"I'm not surprised they told you everything a long time ago," Malfoy smiled crookedly. "It's a shame you only brought it up now, as if I'm trying to hide something from you. The curse really does exist, but my family is working to remove it. I don't know the details," Draco warned, holding up his hands to forestall her questions, "but I'm sure everything will be fine, Hermione.
For the first time in the conversation, an uncertain smile began to spread across the girl's face.
"So there won't be any obstacles to our relationship?" Hermione asked excitedly.
Draco gently put his arms around her shoulders and looked into her eyes:
"Trust me. Together, we can overcome any problem.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Hermione leaned in for a kiss.
After a few minutes of silence, Draco asked:
"Is everything okay in your department? Because when I see Weasley and the looks he gives you, I just want to use Cruciatus on him.
"I'll deal with him," Hermione said confidently, frowning. "The redhead hasn't crossed the line yet, but if he tries, he'll find out what evil witches are capable of. Please don't get involved," she said, stroking Malfoy's cheek. "The last thing I need is to start a new war between the houses.
"Oh, my Helen of Troy!" Malfoy grinned foolishly. "Give your knight another kiss!"
Just before lights out, after seeing the girl to the faculty lounge, Draco heard voices in an abandoned classroom on his way to the dungeons. Casting an invisibility spell on himself, Malfoy carefully opened the door so that it didn't make a sound.
Several of his classmates and some younger boys were sitting on chairs. Parkinson was standing in front of them, talking passionately about something. Listening, Draco was stunned.
"Very soon," Pansy said, "the Dark Lord will take over the Ministry. Then we can deal with all the mudbloods and traitors from the other houses at Hogwarts.
"You mean Malfoy and his friends?" Harper twisted his fox-like face. This younger student had become a Seeker instead of Draco, and Draco had good reason to dislike him.
"All of them," Parkinson cut in without hesitation. "My lord is just, and everyone will get what they deserve."
She rolled up her sleeve, and the boys sitting on the chairs jumped to their feet with frightened and admiring exclamations and crowded around Pansy, examining the black mark on her forearm.
"What is he like, the Dark Lord?" Bulstrode whispered excitedly.
"The Dark Lord is a very charismatic wizard," Pansy said admiringly, "and incredibly powerful. And he has a terrifying snake. When it crawls down the corridor, even adults find it scary. But when the Lord wins, all his supporters will take their rightful place in the new system of power. So let's keep our heads down and wait for the signal from the elders," concluded Parkinson.
***
Rolling her eyes ironically at the fountain of the Magical Brotherhood, Molly registered her wand and headed for the DMP. Despite the mourning bandage on her head, the woman looked composed and determined. Entering the office, she saw several tables and wizards sitting behind them.
"Hello," she said to the nearest wizard. "I am the mother of the deceased Fred and George Prewett. I would like to know the details of the tragedy that occurred. Who is handling this case?"
"I am," replied the young wizard. "Please take a seat, madam."
The wizard told Molly everything they had been able to find out about the killer. The Aurors had questioned an elderly witch who had been talking to the unknown man before he entered the shop. From her recollections, they were able to identify the terrorist. He turned out to be Antonin Dolohov, who had escaped from Azkaban.
The investigator placed a photograph in front of Molly, although it had been taken during the trials of the supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
"I don't know why he attacked your children, madam. Maybe the Dementors completely damaged his mind," the investigator said, spreading his hands. "We'll keep looking. Leaflets with his picture have already been printed and will be posted in all magical settlements tomorrow.
"Ahem," said an elderly Auror sitting at the next table, who had heard the last few words. "I know the reason for the attack. During the first war," the wizard rubbed an old scar on his face, "Dolochov's wife and son were killed by members of the Order of the Phoenix, the Prewett brothers. I heard that he promised to destroy everyone he could get his hands on," sighed the grey-haired Auror. "My condolences, Mrs. Weasley. None of the cases involving your other children were ever closed, but now at least we have a lead. Perhaps one of the wizards who escaped Azkaban helped Dolohov take his revenge," the Auror said sympathetically, looking at Molly. "You are a Prewett yourself, that madman may well have decided that your children had to die.
A quick flash of hatred crossed Molly's face.
"Thank you, I think I'll go," Weasley said, rising easily from her chair. "Can I take one of these photos?" She nodded at the picture of Dolohov.
"Yes, of course," the young Auror said hurriedly, handing her the sheet. "As soon as we find out anything, I'll be sure to contact you, madam."
"Good day, gentlemen," the woman smiled a little ominously. She folded the sheet and put it in her handbag. "Thank you for the information."
***
Augustus Rukwood, who was in Voldemort's favour for killing Moody, climbed the steps of the bank and confidently entered Gringotts.
"Good day, sir," he said haughtily to the nearest goblin, who was sitting behind the counter, shifting precious stones from one pile to another, examining them through a magnifying glass. "I need to speak with the representative of the Lestrange family.
The bank employee put aside another diamond and called another goblin, informing him of the customer's request. The assistant nodded understandingly and immediately rushed off somewhere deep into the corridors. After a while, a dry, wrinkled goblin emerged from the inner rooms and slowly made his way towards the wizard.
"You wanted to see me, Mr Wizard? I am the representative of the Lestrange family.
Rukwood introduced himself, and the short man invited him into the meeting room, where they could discuss all the necessary matters.
"I have a request for you from my master, Lord Voldemort," Rukwood began without preamble, as soon as they had settled in the meeting room. "My lord left one artefact in Bellatrix Lestrange's safe for temporary safekeeping. Now that she is dead and there is no one left of her family, my lord demands that the artefact be transferred to the custody of one of his other supporters. As you can understand, this is a perfectly reasonable request," Augustus smiled, looking at the goblin.
"According to Gringotts policy and the original agreement with the wizards," the attorney began in a dull voice. "We have no right to open a frozen vault without the permission of the new owner. Magic shows that someone from the family is still alive. When that wizard appears at any branch of the bank, we will be able to make the connection. The wizard will become the regent or head and will have access to the safes that belonged to Madam Lestrange, among others.
"And where are we supposed to find this wizard or witch related by blood to the Lestrange family?" asked Rukwood sceptically, looking at the goblin.
"That's not the bank's problem, Mr Wizard," the short man grinned maliciously. "These rules were introduced by people long before you and I were born. It's not for us to break them.
"Do you understand who you are about to refuse, goblin?" Rukwood said coldly, burning with rage. "Lord Voldemort will not forgive such disrespect.
"And what, are you ready to start a new war over this?" The goblin's grin was no less fierce than the dragon's. "Our people keep their oaths, but you wizards seem to have forgotten that we are as skilled with a sword as we are with gold! I think our conversation is over, Mr. Rukwood!" The goblin rose from his chair and pointed to the exit.
Augustus left, already imagining what punishment awaited him from Voldemort, who was dissatisfied with his failure. But Augustus also understood that if the goblins had dug their heels in, there was nothing he could do about it except wage war on the little people or comply with their demands. But to Rukwood's surprise, the Dark Lord did not punish him. He only hissed thoughtfully that he would have to make some minor adjustments to his plans, and that the cup would serve as insurance in case of an absolute emergency. It was clear that his master's thoughts were far from the problems with the cup and the goblins. Finally, the Dark Lord looked at Rukwood and said:
"Today, gather everyone from the inner circle. Give me your mark, Augustus.
In the evening, the Death Eaters sat down at the table, and Voldemort looked at everyone with his red eyes.
"My loyal followers, I think it's time we stopped hiding in the shadows. Dumbledore is dead," Voldemort's snake-like pupils flashed with satisfaction. "Now no one can stop us.
The Death Eaters cheered joyfully.
"I managed to cast Imperius on Peeves," said Corban Yaxley, rising from his seat. "Robards won't interfere either. He says he's just a lowly servant and doesn't want his people to die for nothing. If the seizure of power goes smoothly, neither the DMP nor the Dark Wizards will interfere.
"Very good," Voldemort hissed with satisfaction. "Augustus, Antoninus, you are responsible for eliminating Scrimgeour. It is unlikely that this failure will give up power voluntarily.
"What will happen to Hogwarts?" asked Snape, gloomy as ever.
"You will become headmaster, Severus," hissed Voldemort. "All these years, you've carried the Slytherin House on your shoulders; you can handle the whole school. And you'll have help from Carrow, for example," he said, looking at his brother and sister. "No need to change anything too much yet, my loyal servants. We'll deal with the Mudbloods and the rest of the rabble later, once we've consolidated our power over England.
"What should we do with Potter, my lord?" Severus asked, feeling a chill run down his spine at the terrible premonition.
"Just keep an eye on him, but don't do anything," Voldemort dismissed him. "Even if his mother's protection has fallen asleep, who knows what surprises the great light left in his body and mind. Let the boy be the first to break the laws we have established, then, in accordance with them, we will simply put him in Azkaban. Potter and all his friends," Voldemort smiled maliciously.
"Yes, my lord," Snape breathed a sigh of relief: if James's son remained alive, let him sit in Azkaban, magic would not consider the vow 'To protect Lily's son with my life,' which he foolishly brought to Dumbledore in his youth, along with others, will be broken.
***
Scrimgeour sat in his office, not knowing where to start. Fudge was in no hurry to help him, and Rufus, who had previously dealt only with the problems of a single department, had no idea how much work would fall on him with this thankless position. Gritting his teeth, he once again pored over the document on international cooperation with France, where the French were still demanding that the results of the Triwizard Tournament be declared invalid. Several years had passed, and the neighbours still refused to accept the obvious. With a sigh, Scrimger put the parchment aside and was about to call his secretary when there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," the minister said, looking longingly at the pile of papers.
Pee Tickness slipped into the office, and Rufus thought he was going to start complaining again about the lack of funding for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
"Good afternoon, Rufus," Pei said flatteringly, his smile seeming completely insincere to Scrimgeour. "How are you settling in? Getting used to it, I see," he said, glancing at the pile of documents.
"What do you want, Tickness?" Scrimgeour snapped, eyeing the slick, slick wizard suspiciously.
"Someone wants to talk to you, Rufus," Tickness said again, somewhat hesitantly, and at that moment the door opened, letting in two men in silver masks.
"Treason!" Scrimger roared, knocking over his chair and grabbing his wand. His opponents immediately cast "Petrificus Totalus" on him, but the wizard managed to cast "Protego" in time.
"Don't be foolish, Rufus," said Pei, also pointing his wand at the minister. "It will be better for everyone if you surrender voluntarily."
Scrimgeour gritted his teeth and began to bombard the Devourers and Tickness with every deadly spell he could cast in the confined space. However, the former dark wizard knew full well that he was no match for two powerful Devourers, especially ones who were working together so well. Therefore, he tried to make his way to the door, gradually pushing his attackers towards the centre of the office. Finally, he managed to break through and yanked the door open, holding the most powerful Protego spell behind him. However, two metres away stood Dolores Umbridge, holding the frightened, trembling secretary at gunpoint. Seeing Scrimgeour, the woman instantly turned her short, thick wand towards him and said sharply, "Bombarda!"
The veins in Scrimgeour's neck bulged, and he managed to raise his wand and shield himself with Protego just as the Bombarda flew into his chest. The force of the explosive spell threw the former dark wizard back into the office, and Rufus did not have time to react to the Avada that hit him in the back.
"Why Avada, Antonin?" spat Rukwood. "Now the artefacts in the Department of Mysteries will detect that someone in the building is playing with something unforgivable.
"He's too quick for us," Dolohov croaked. "He almost wiped out the three of us. Thank you, Madam Umbridge," the Devourer bowed gratefully to the woman in the pink suit.
"Cast Obliviate on Miss Azkabt, gentlemen. No one must know what happened here today," Dolores said sweetly, leaving the office first.
"Settle in, Peeves," said Rukwood, patting him on the shoulder and slowly making his way to the reception room. "With your help, great changes await England."
========== Part 55. The consequences of rash actions ==========
Today, Cassius woke up later than ever, to the boring grumbling of Kreacher.
"Get up, Mr Black, wake up!" the house elf repeated in the same tone. "You asked me to wake you up."
Cassius yawned heartbreakingly and finally sat up in bed.
"Thank you, Kreacher," he said sleepily, looking at the loyal creature. "I'm awake now."
The house elf glanced doubtfully at the young man, but seeing that he was indeed getting up, concluded with satisfaction:
"The master is awake! Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes," and with a soft thud, he disappeared from the bedroom.
"And I'll just have time to take a shower," muttered the young lord, grabbing a fresh towel on his way to the bathroom.
Cassius had spent the entire previous week in gruelling training with death magic. He worked methodically and consistently with his system of channels and sources, striving to achieve another increase in magical power. Regular visits to Azkaban and the extraction of increasing amounts of energy from the Dementors had greatly increased Black's personal power, allowing him to look to the future with greater confidence.
The Elder Wand also came in handy. Its use allowed him to perform more subtle operations. And if he needed to release a huge amount of energy at once, the wand was a good tool, allowing him to direct the flow of magic much more precisely. Cassius studied everything he discovered about the Deathly Hallows and came to the conclusion that possessing all three artefacts could further enhance them, but he did not know where the other two had been lost over the centuries. In addition, Black had strange dreams. It had started long ago, after Azkaban, and at first, the wizard attributed the dreams to the Dementors' influence on his psyche. However, these creatures were very different from humans and thought in completely different categories.
Cassius dreamed of a city. A huge ancient city, somewhat resembling the Greek city of Fira, which sparkled with fragments of its former beauty on the slopes of Santorini, but with completely unfamiliar architecture. Architecture that is impossible for modern humanity, but nevertheless still found in various places on the planet. Marble statues, with super detailed stuff. It seemed like some wizard had just turned real people into stone forever. Or ancient temples, with perfect geometric shapes, reminding Cassius of the school in Wagadu.
But the main thing he saw in his dream was people. And even though their clothes were different from the robes Cassius was used to, they were still ordinary people. Even their speech was somehow familiar, although Black didn't understand a word. The silver discs darting across the sky above the city, possibly some kind of transport, were a source of great surprise.
And there was always the ocean. Although it was sometimes invisible from where Cassius was walking in his dream, the presence of the mighty element could be felt in the distant roar of the waves and the fresh sea breeze. Sometimes the sky was covered with clouds, sometimes there was a tropical downpour, but the water element around them was particularly noticeable.
"Perhaps this is my subconscious telling me that it's time to go to France, to the Côte d'Azur, to the sea and sandy beaches, instead of sitting in rainy England," Cassius thought to himself as he basked under the hot shower. "Or maybe I just want to go back to my native Africa? It's time for Bore to start a family, he's a grown bird now. And anyway, there are so many unexplored places hidden on this mysterious continent." "Let's solve all our problems in England and go travelling around the world. Draco will just be finishing Hogwarts, it'll be more fun together," thought Cassius, drying his head as he walked.
Hopping through the corridors, causing numerous living portraits to roll their eyes in disapproval, Black descended to the dining room, where Kreacher had already laid out a hearty breakfast. The young lord enjoyed the smell of hot eggs and bacon and, with the air of a commander preparing for battle, began to carefully examine the plates of cold cuts, cheese and vegetables, crispy rolls and freshly toasted garlic bread, planning what to start his breakfast with. Everything smelled so delicious that the young man immediately forgot all his thoughts and began to eat.After thanking Kricher heartily for the wonderful breakfast, Cassius settled down in the study with a cup of fragrant tea and decided to read the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. On the front page was a portrait of the new minister, Pee Tickness, talking about how he would continue the work of his predecessors to strengthen and develop magical England.
Among the ministry officials, Cassius spotted many new faces, including those he had sat with in Azkaban. Even at Hogwarts, the former Death Eater Severus Snape had been appointed the next headmaster. Cassius smiled wryly; apparently, Voldemort's servants had managed to seize power without much difficulty. In essence, the young wizard didn't care who sat in the minister's chair, but he had a serious score to settle with Voldemort, who had tried to kill his father.
True, the half-reptile had been hiding somewhere in the manors of his vassals since the attack on the Ministry of Magic, but as soon as the noseless freak appeared somewhere nearby, Black would gladly slit his throat on the ancestral altar. The young man categorically did not want to declare himself the new Light or Dark Lord of England. Cassius always preferred to conduct his affairs from the shadows, being a private person by nature.
Perhaps his parents' fears that he would one day be exposed as a dark magician and killed, and his teacher's stories that people like them were more often feared and hated than loved, had shaped his unwillingness to stand out. The young wizard categorically refused to waste his life proving anything to anyone. All he cared about now was his own development as a wizard and the well-being of his family and friends.
Finishing his philosophical musings, Cassius scratched his nose and began leafing through the newspaper again. On the second page were photos of three Hogwarts students. Two representatives of the Weasley family and the chosen one, Harry Potter. The young people had tried to break into the headmaster's office, but to no avail. On their way out of the castle, the enraged Gryffindors launched a surprise attack, disarming the new professors — brother and sister Carrow — and demonstratively breaking their wands.
The Ministry of Magic had already declared Potter and Weasley wanted. The correspondent did not explain what the rebellious teenagers were trying to prove with their foolish actions, but it was obviously something important, since the entire spread was devoted to this event. There was a description of Potter's daring antics in previous years, his aggressiveness and inappropriate behaviour. The crafty correspondent interviewed several Slytherins, who were happy to badmouth Potter as much as they could.
After mulling over the news in the Prophet, Cassius picked up the Quibbler. This strange magazine, published by some eccentric, occasionally featured interesting articles. Suddenly, his gaze fell on a familiar symbol woven into the publisher's logo on the last page. A triangle inside a circle, divided by a vertical line. "It looks like the Death Eaters' symbol or Grindelwald's sign," Cassius said, remembering how he had seen the image on the wall at Durmstrang.
"Kreacher," Black called to the house-elf. "Find out the address of the publisher of this magazine for me. You can pop over to Dervish and Banges; they sell his stories even to Muggles."
The elf picked up the magazine and Transended into Diagon Alley. An hour later, the house elf reported that the publication belonged to Xenophilius Lovegood, who lived near the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. "I'll have to meet this man," thought Cassius. Quickly jotting down a request for a meeting, he asked the house elf to send the message by owl.
Suddenly, a soft hissing sound rang in his head, and Black realised that his familiar was asking him to come visit. Deciding to indulge the old reptile, Cassius popped into a farm in a Scottish village, where he bought a dozen cows. Casting a light confundus charm on the farmer, he shrunk the animals and put them all in a matchbox. Then he politely said goodbye to the unsuspecting farmer and headed for Hogwarts. The basilisk greeted his gift of cows scattering in terror with a satisfied hiss and happily joined the hunt, while Cassius made his way to the Chamber of Secrets through an underground tunnel. Today, the castle felt a little different, like a living organism rather than just a majestic structure.
At some point, Black realised that he had established a strong magical connection with the castle, allowing him to sense every hidden corner of this grand artefact when necessary. "Merlin!" Cassius exclaimed in surprise, listening to his senses. Even the huge community of house elves now seemed like part of a useful mechanism in the complex structure of Hogwarts. Professors, students, ghosts, and poltergeists now felt like a single organism. All these feelings were so difficult to understand that Black, trying to make sense of it all, didn't even notice when Basileus finished his hunt and crawled back. The snake watched his master closely as he remained frozen in a meditative pose and waited.After quite some time, Cassius opened his eyes and stared at the snake watching him intently. The boy's hands were trembling after what he had been through, and his mood was gloomy. Well, he managed to abstract himself from the castle a little, even though he could still feel it somewhere on the periphery of his consciousness.
"You finally felt the castle, master!" hissed the basilisk approvingly, curling into huge rings.
Cassius looked at the snake a little hesitantly and nodded angrily.
"Now tell me what this is all about," he hissed hoarsely in reply, looking reproachfully at the ancient monster. "Am I the new headmaster of Hogwarts now? Do you think I have nothing better to do, Basileus?!"
The basilisk even moved back a little, feeling the growing pressure of Black's dark magic.
"No, master," the snake shook its crowned head. "When you performed that horrific ritual and then made me your familiar, you became, in a sense, equal to the founders, a successor and heir to the glorious traditions of the ancient magicians. And since all the old masters of the castle are long dead, you are now the only one who can rule the castle with the power of magic. The one who spoke, whose diary I destroyed for attempting to murder the students of the school, bared his fangs, the ancient serpent. "He could have claimed this inheritance before, for by blood he is a distant descendant of my former master, but by tearing his soul apart in his youth, he deprived himself of Slytherin's inheritance.
"So now I can appoint the headmaster myself?" Cassius chuckled, imagining his astonished parents and younger brother in that role.
"Like any of the employees," hissed the snake affirmatively. "And most importantly, you can use all the power of the Hogwarts source at your discretion, to a much greater extent than the headmaster or the deans," the ancient reptile tried to sweeten the pill.
"I think you're being disingenuous," Cassius narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "The advantages are certainly great, but there are always disadvantages. What responsibilities have I taken on without even knowing it? Tell me honestly, you tailedored!"
"Only one thing that won't be a burden for you," hissed the Basilisk, trying to avoid his master's angry gaze. "To keep Hogwarts intact and everyone who studies there alive. But for you, as a future great wizard, and with the support of the source, that's no problem at all," the basilisk dismissed carelessly.
"Voldemort, the Ministry, all their forces, hundreds of adult, experienced wizards. Do you really think I won't have any problems now?" Cassius growled irritably, realising what he had taken on for a dubious reward.
The snake began to slowly crawl away from its nervous master.
"You can use all the castle's defences to protect Hogwarts," the snake said, trying to make itself less visible to avoid its master's wrath.
"What kind of protection does this pile of stones have?" Black snorted with irritation, moving closer to the basilisk's snout.
"We need to get the key and activate the defences," the snake said, slapping its tail and trying to move away.
"And where am I supposed to find this key, Basileus? Probably at the bottom of the Black Lake, under the belly of the Giant Squid?"
"No, of course not!" hissed the basilisk in surprise. "The key to the defences is the sword of Gryffindor. It must be stuck into one of the stones of the central altar and sprinkled with the blood of the founder, which is now yours. That's all! The defences have helped to repel even dragons, real dragons.
"Any reasonably skilled wizard could handle those creatures now. Look, even Potter defeated the young Horntail, and the girl al Mansur put her beast to sleep. How will such protection help me against the Death Eaters?" Cassius wondered.
"In my youth, dragons were somewhat stronger," the serpent said, waving its tail vaguely.
"Well, all right," Cassius sighed and stood up. "Now we'll have to take Mordred's legacy into account in our plans.
"We need to announce a new director," hissed the snake, pleased that his master had calmed down a little.
"But Snape has already been appointed," Black said in surprise.
"Shh," the ancient monster's sarcastic laughter sounded through the telepathic connection. "He won't even be able to enter Dumbledore's office. And no one has offered any sacrifices, like Dipett for Albus's appointment as headmaster," the ancient snake snorted contemptuously. "The great and enlightened one thought that these were all remnants of dark times, thinking only of his own higher good. Old Armando beheaded many Muggles on the altar so that Dumbledore could connect to the source, but all you have to do is give Hogwarts an order, and that's it.
"That's some news you've dropped on me today, Merlin's beard," sighed Cassius. "All right, I understand you, Basileus, there's nothing you can do to change it. So we'll have to negotiate with everyone. A word to the wise is enough, as they say. Let's try to settle everything peacefully, as long as they don't mess with Hogwarts, and let them divide the power however they want.
***
Molly placed plates of soup on the table in front of the children and continued to concentrate on cooking the roast. Ron, waving his spoon, repeated his story for the fifth time about how he heroically helped Harry defeat the dark wizards of Carrow. Mrs. Weasley just sighed, feeling that the children were not safe here. The Death Eaters, who were now in power, would surely turn up at the Burrow sooner or later.
Augusta Longbottom was now doing everything in her power to fortify her manor so that the children could be hidden there. The Order of the Phoenix had practically ceased to exist; some had been caught by the Death Eaters, some, like Fletcher, had gone over to the winning side, and most had simply gone into hiding and tried to keep as low a profile as possible. After eating, the children went to their room, and Molly stayed alone with Ginny. The girl helped her mother clear the table, carefully placing the dirty dishes in the sink. She couldn't wield magic at her mother's level, so she preferred to do all the work with her hands.
"How are things with Harry?" Molly put down the spatula and placed mugs of tea on the table. "You haven't changed your mind about marrying him, have you?"
"Of course not, Mum," her daughter replied confidently, raising the mug to her lips. "He's not going anywhere.
"Well, well," the older woman said doubtfully. "As if you young people can be so sure about relationships," she said, smiling and ruffling her daughter's hair.
"Don't worry, Mum," Ginny's eyes flashed strangely. "We'll definitely stay together, I'm a Weasley after all.
"Well, all right, go to bed now, bride-to-be," Molly smiled indulgently at her daughter's naivety, taking the empty mug, "I'll potter around in the kitchen, I find housework calming. Tomorrow morning, you'll cross over to a safer place. Has your Harry already been to the Longbottom manor?" She frowned, trying to remember. "That means he'll be able to apparate there, since you all learned Transfiguration last year," the woman said, calming down a little.
The children had long since gone to bed, but Molly couldn't shake the feeling of impending danger. Chastising herself for being overly paranoid, she went out into the yard and created an invisible signal perimeter around the house, just in case. Of course, she would have to feed it from her own source, as there had never been an altar stone in Burrow, but she could manage for a day. Satisfied, the woman went to her bedroom, where she immediately tried to fall asleep.
Towards morning, when a cold fog settled like a grey blanket on the trees in the garden, when sleep is especially deep, Molly sat up abruptly in bed, feeling numbness in her hand. She began to rub it, but only after a few seconds did she realise that it was not her limb that had gone numb from an uncomfortable position, but the alarm had gone off.
Jumping up from the bed sharply but silently, the woman carefully pulled back the edge of the window curtain and peered intently into the grey mist. At first she saw nothing, but then, looking closer, she noticed movement in the fog.
"They've found us!" Molly's mind was flooded with panic, and she immediately rushed into the children's room.
"Ron, Harry, get up!" She tried to wake the boys quietly, but Ronald just grumbled discontentedly and waved her away.
Then Molly cast "Silencio" and doused Ron and Harry with cold water from her wand. Jumping up, both teenagers silently opened their mouths until they finally noticed that Mrs. Weasley was gesturing for them to be quiet. After drying the boys off, Molly whispered that the Death Eaters would soon attack them, then asked them to get dressed as quickly as possible and be ready. She then went to wake Ginny.
None of the teenagers had ever seen Mrs. Weasley so serious before. The woman was pale, her expression fierce. In a voice that brooked no argument, she ordered them to try to Apparate to the Longbottoms, and when the kids failed, she cursed loudly.
Explaining to the confused teenagers that somewhere nearby there was a wizard with a special artefact that created an anti-apparition barrier around the house and that an attack by the Death Eaters, and perhaps even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was about to begin, Molly ordered everyone to stay inside and try to use Transfiguration every five minutes.
"What about you, Mum?" Ginny blurted out excitedly.
"I'm going to go see who's come to visit us," the woman said with a crooked smile, rubbing her face, and the girl suddenly felt uneasy. It was the first time she had ever seen her mother so upset.
"If I'm killed or wounded," the woman said seriously, looking at them, "try to escape without attracting attention. Don't rush to me and shout 'Mummy, Mummy'. You'll easily get hit by an Avada. As soon as you get out," she said, patting her daughter and son reassuringly. "Go to the Longbottoms, Augusta will hide you. Harry, take care of my children, and I'll go...
"In the name of the Ministry of Magic, everyone out of the house!" a shrill male voice rang out from the street.
Hugging each of them tightly once more, Molly went out into the hallway and began to descend the stairs, lighting her way with a wand. Dressed as she was, in her gypsy skirt and stretched-out blouse, she stepped out onto the porch with her hair tousled and looked fearlessly at the dark figures of wizards in silver masks."Mrs. Weasley," said one of the masked men in a high-pitched voice. "We have information that you are harbouring criminals.
"Oh, don't play the law enforcement officer here," Molly grimaced contemptuously. "I don't have anyone here, get lost," she replied rudely to the wizard.
"Auntie, you don't understand," said another wizard. "Let them come out peacefully, and we won't burn down your barn with everything in it.
"Give you my children," Molly said, shaking her head. "Burn down the Burrow? What kind of men are you, coming to my house?" the woman said mockingly, putting her hands on her hips.
"What are you doing with this old woman?" another Devourer boiled over and, raising his wand, barked, "Expelliarmus!"
Molly's face contorted with rage, and she instantly grabbed her wand and threw a powerful "Bombarda Maxima" at the crowd of masked men standing relaxed, simultaneously casting "Protego" to block the spell flying towards her.
In the pre-dawn silence, the explosion seemed especially loud, and more than half of the Devourers did not have time to react, scattering like knocked-down bowling pins. Determining that she was facing only one young Devourer, the woman quickly ended the losers' suffering with short, sharp spells, while holding off the attacks of the remaining mages. When several attackers turned into black whirlwinds of short duration, Molly did the same, only her whirlwind of combat transgression was white.
Trying to pull the masked men away from the Burrow, Molly used her magical intuition to search for the man with the artefact and finally found him. By this time, only two wizards remained from the attackers, and she abruptly transgressed towards the man with the artifact, unleashing another "Bombard" at him. The wizard easily withstood the attack by simply activating "Protego Totalum".
When she tried to throw quick fire spells at him, he deflected them all with some difficulty, then took off his mask. The thin face, sunken cheeks, and crazy eyes seemed a little familiar to Weasley.
"I can feel the magic of the Prewetts," the Death Eater croaked. "Perhaps I'm in luck today and there will be one less rat. And then I'll deal with your freaks, redhead," Antonina's eyes flashed madly.
Molly coolly threw two Avidas, killing the last of the young Death Eaters, and she and Dolohov were left alone.
"You Devourer scum!" A dull crimson light flared in the woman's eyes. "I know who you are, murderer. When I burn your hands and feet to a crisp, we'll see how you talk then." I will torture you for a long time, Dolokhov. You, Morgana's spawn, will regret coming here alone many times over.
"Ha-ha-ha," laughed the Devourer, looking at the dishevelled housewife. "Where did you pick up such words, you stupid chicken?"
But his mocking laughter immediately turned into a groan when the non-verbal "Seko" tore his thigh, tearing fountains of blood from his trousers.
Falling to one knee, Dolohov became much more serious. Fearing a repeat of the unexpected attack, he began to throw area spells at Weasley, but Molly skilfully put up shields, trying to get closer. The woman's aura, burning with burgundy fire, grew several times larger, and she switched to the Prüett family magic.
A sparkling burgundy chain from the end of her wand lashed Dolohov's shield, and only a desperate leap to the side allowed him to escape from the dangerous spot. Continuing her movement, Molly swung the chain again, but Antonin had already finished his spell.
The wind roared with fiercely sharp icicles, and Weasley had to quickly cover himself with his shield, which flickered from the hits. Reaching out, Dolohov increased the pressure, but Molly, albeit with difficulty, held back his attack. Beneath the mask of a simple-minded woman was an opponent who was extremely dangerous to an experienced Death Eater. Even a blind man would not have been able to mistake her for an ordinary housewife now. She cast all her spells non-verbally and quickly, barely moving her wand, and successfully resisted one of the strongest wizards of the inner circle.
Jumping several metres into the air, Molly dodged another green flash of Avada and immediately unleashed an avalanche of fire on Dolokhov. Turning into black smoke, the Devourer moved away from the area spell, but Molly had no intention of letting him go. Dolohov even gritted his teeth in frustration at his own stupidity for not taking any of his family artefacts with him on what seemed like a simple operation. Antonin felt that Weasley was getting stronger and more dangerous with every passing minute, while he was already struggling to hold back her blows.
But in battle, a single spell often decides everything, and seizing the moment, the experienced mage created quicksand under Molly's feet, into which the woman immediately sank almost to her neck, managing to raise her left shoulder at the last moment. Grinning, Dolohov released Seko to cut off her head, but Weasley desperately jerked and managed to close her eyes, putting her hand, burning with white flames, in front of them. The fire saved Molly from death, but her hand was almost cut off, and the woman lost consciousness from the pain. Antonin, no longer in a hurry, carefully healed the cuts all over her body with medical spells, got rid of the most serious burns, and limped towards his victim. The magician's soot-covered and burnt face expressed only deadly fatigue.
"Farewell, last Pruett, you fought surprisingly well." Dolokhov grunted grimly, raising his weapon, but at that moment, a piercing scream rang out from the side: "Expelliarmus!" and the wand flew out of his hand.
"Mordred and Morgana!" Annoyed that he hadn't heard anyone earlier, Dolohov spun around and saw the teenagers running towards him from the house. Throwing a non-verbal "Seko" in their direction, Antonin decided that in his current exhausted state, he would not be able to deal with all of them, especially since Harry Potter was among the runners. Ducking sharply under the "Petrificus Totalus" spell that flew over his head, Antonin non-verbally summoned his wand, which had flown off to the side, and spun around in a transgression, deciding to retreat.
Harry desperately thought of Merlin and turned around to see Ron and Ginny lying on the ground, trying to staunch the bleeding from their cuts. Casting Vulnerus Sanentur on each of his friends, Potter ran to the unconscious Molly and tried to pull her out of the sand, grabbing her wounded arm. The woman groaned hoarsely as she came to, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
Raking away the sand, he tried to help her free herself from the pit. Together, they lifted Ron and Ginny to their feet and tried to get away from the Burrow. No one could Apparate in their current state, so Molly decided to get to Ottery St. Catchpole and hide with someone she knew, at least for a while. It was clear that Dolohov would soon return with the other Death Eaters, and then it would all be over quickly, so the Weasleys and Potters tried to get away from the Burrow as quickly as possible.
***
Dolohov stumbled out onto the manor's courtyard and limped quickly towards the castle, wiping his eyes, which were watering from the burns.
"You couldn't take a simple village hag, Antonin?" Parkinson laughed loudly when he met him in the corridor. "We should have gone with the boys. I can't even imagine what Lord will do to you when he finds out."
"You'd better organise some men to go to Ottery St. Catchpole, Parkinson," Antonin snapped. "That hag, as you called her, killed twenty-eight of our men and almost roasted me alive, the murderous pyromaniac. The redhead and her brood are wounded, they can't get far. I would have finished them off," Dolokhov wiped the sweat from his burnt forehead. "But Potter attacked me from behind, and the lord ordered me not to touch the boy, you know that.
A snake-like hissing sound came from around the corner of the corridor, and both Death Eaters shuddered.
"I'll go to the lord," Dolokhov croaked resignedly. "You try to capture them. I'm sure Cruciatus isn't the worst thing our master can think of for you, my dear friend."