The passageway to 9 ¾ platform this time worked differently than I expected. When I passed through it – everything was fine, but then Magdiel tried to sneak through 10 or so seconds later.
A darkened sky was the first sign that something went wrong. It looked like a solar eclipse, just not as strong. Although, my attention quickly shifted from shadows to light earth tremors. Sorcerers around me screamed, started grabbing their children and hiding under benches, some tried leaving the platform.
And then the passageway to Kings-Cross simply collapsed onto itself in its all ruined bricky glory.
The drama ended after that and the comedy started: station workers slowly approached the destroyed road to the rest of the world and started spreading their arms in confusion, clicking tongues and shaking heads. Two sorcerers were busy conjuring some glowing animal shapes, which then quickly flew somewhere
"Mag, what did you do?" I hissed. "You just came to the party and already are breaking things?
The train's shadow whispered in the demon's voice:
"That was strange. If I didn't see that the column is an illusion – I would've never guessed that it is the passage. It resisted me just like any other masonry would have."
"Really? I passed as through a door."
"There was no other way for me to enter. Don't worry, the Weave will restore itself. These ones always do."
"You would know, I guess. Still, try not to break any more dishes, you are a guest."
I didn't hear an answer, so just boarded the train.
The last year I bought a lot of books, so the trunk was pretty heavy. This year it felt much lighter, I even thought that didn't board the train, but flew into it. Yeah, it will sure take some time getting used to the new me. I wonder if I can now handle two Slytherin gentlemen at the same time?
This time no compartments were sufficiently empty, every single one was already occupied by at least one person. I didn't really care, since, aside from the fascist, no one would really be against my company. But I do care about how they would react to a bored adult indian woman suddenly appearing right next to them. Can't really predict that.
Although I can just say that no one would be smart enough to shut up and not interfere in others' business.
"Mag, for how long can you hide?"
"As much as needed. Probably."
"Probably? I didn't expect to hear that. I thought you completed your 'angelic abilities' homework five or so million years ago."
"I feel the word… unusually. This wizarding England reminds me of something. I can't remember what."
"Mmyeah. You know, let's get to Hogwarts first and then you'll tell me all about your sensitive nature. I am just interested in knowing if anyone talkative would suddenly sea a certain dreaming Death?"
"No, they will not. Do not worry about it."
Yeah, it was a little harsh of me. I hope she isn't offended. Who knows how offended infernal monsters behave, even if they got a tad kinder after being freed.
Still, I am not going to stand in the corridor for the whole trip. Thankfully, I didn't have to – one compartment was mostly empty and was occupied only by one sleeping guy, who already was wearing his robes, but without House colors. A newly arriving negro to work on the book plantations,
.
When we entered the compartment, the door suddenly got covered in a barely noticeable smoke-like shroud and Mag finally became visible. She finally left her usual office clothes in the dressing room and now before me stood a woman, dressed for outdoors and hiking - you know, padded sturdy pants, canvas-made jacket. In other words, ready to endure any hardships.
"Not afraid to get your own minute of fame?" I asked her quietly.
"The door is locked." She answered in an uncaring tone.
"That I understand. What about our gracious host?"
The demon, looking surprised, looked from me to the sleeping kid, as if only noticing him, and touched his hand.
"Just can't get used to taking children seriously. He will not wake up for nine more hours."
"We will travel for eight or so hours. You want to send the poor sod back?"
"I'll wake him up when we arrive." She shrugged.
Practical. I guess she put a soul inside that car with the same attitude.
"So, what was that about sensing stuff in the Wizarding World?"
"I don't know. Such a familiar feeling… Can't remember. I met something like this before the imprisonment, but certainly not after."
"Okay, gotcha. Tell me if you remember, I want to know about my place of living more than just fairytales about magic, muggle-repelling charms and Statut of Secrecy. What was that show at the station?"
"I was surprised too. It was as if the Weave just… disappeared. If I didn't saw you passing through and didn't sense the illusion – I would've taken it for a normal wall."
"What do you mean 'the weave disappeared'? I don't understand jack in your demonic stuff. Just skimmed through some things – that's all."
"It is hard to explain." Mag started thinking. "Our world is, essentially, a Weave, filled with energy. One big sheet made of connections and consequences, supporting themselves. If you pull one string – the whole reality will shake. We, Elohim, control the world this way. Sorcerers do something similar, but, when we pull whole ropes, creating by that Mechanisms and then making it work, then you can pull at best a single thin string. The Weave back then seemed torn apart, the sturdy sheet of space looked like a colander. One of the connections seemed worn dead-end, flapping on a wind."
"And this didn't surprise anyone? I mean, of your kind."
"The whole world is like this. The reason why many of us hate your kind. We left a still smoking, ruined world, but it was whole. The Weave was solid, sturdy and beautiful, although it already didn't look as perfect as when it were created. And when we returned, we saw forests, fields and seas, not knowing big wars for a long time, but still poisoned with your poisons, drained by your appetites, and these disgusting gray boxes you call cities. But most importantly, we saw only hanging cobwebs and rags instead of the Weave. The Great Mechanism was destroyed while we were absent. So no, human, I was not surprised by the torn Weave at the station."
It got very uncomfortable. Not as bad as it could've been, but it was obvious that Mag was upset. Although, as it turned out, she didn't finish yet.
"Still, when I followed the torn part, when it suddenly continued. This is surprising, as many Fate angels researched the Weave, and, even though they rarely shared anything, I know for a fact that demons didn't see anything like that before. Holding onto it was difficult, it was slipping away, so I filled it with power. On the one hand, it tore apart and collapsed some fabric around. On the other, I was able to follow it further, through the bricks."
"Mag, I said already – I don't understand jack in all this. I kinda got the main part, but you must understand, I am an amateur – got only five years in uni, BBC and National Geographic as education, didn't finish any heavenly academies either. Sorry for not being able to participate in the conversation, but I am a good listener."
"You know, after some thinking, I can definitely say that the Wizarding World's Weave is a little different. But that is impossible."
"What do you mean? Am I going to have problems because of that?"
"No, on the contrary. There are more connections here, although they are thinner. I am not a Fate angel – I can't say it better. Just know that there are differences."
I don't understand shit. She just can't say it in a way that makes sense. I knew a madame in my previous life, who too liked to babble all kinds of bullshit about genotyping, viral loads, am… ampe… amplification, all that crap. She too never said a simple, understandable word. You can never say if these people are professionals or just fucking nerds.
"Can you explain to the local idiot what you doesn't like?"
"Ugh…" She massaged her nose. Yeah, no point in hiding it – I am not a genius. "Before, the world was different. I mean, completely different. We are talking about the Weave, but before there were multiple Weaves, tightly tied with one another. We are currently riding a train and this is the Weave of the world. But in ancient times the Weaves were intertwined and, if in one you could see a train, in the other you could hear a song. Do you understand? You could've sung a song and then end up where the train would've taken you. It could've also been a ripe fruit and you would've arrived at the destination the moment you finished eating it. These opportunities, these Edges were numberless. If you knew how to use Edges and Weaves, then the whole creation freely obeyed your will. I already told you that the Weave is torn apart. But, worse than that, there is only one Edge left, the Edge of physical matter. There is still the World of the Dead, but it is our creation, we, angels of Death, created it as a fortress during the War, so it's unsurprising that it persevered. But there are no other Edges… Or, at least, there weren't, until I got here."
"So, let me translate all that to a human language. You are saying that we are now in a different world?"
"Well… yes. Not completely. The Weave is not that different, but, you are mostly correct."
"And when I told you that we are going to the WIZARDING, fucking, WORLD, you missed the point completely, huh?"
"Who knows what humans imagined to themselves again? You see differences even in what is same, take your nicknames for example: yid, negro, wog, gook." Mag waved me off.
"Alright, pretty lady, if there are no other worlds, then what's about Umbra?"
"What Umbra?" She raised her eyebrow.
"You don't know about Umbra?"
"First time I hear of it, yes."
And here we have it. The specialist about the supernatural, yeah, sure. Three years in a parochial school. I can understand Hog's students not knowing about Umbra, but a demon?
"Whoo, Mag, you are going to have a very interesting work trip."
***
The conversation didn't go much further and kinda fell apart. I didn't know what to even say about Umbra and just decided to show her when the opportunity comes. Magdiel too said her weekly stock of words and there seemed to be a deficit with no replenishments so far. Well, didn't want to talk too much anyway, I still haven't seen all the dreams.
This time they get us into Hogwarts not by the lake, but in some carriages in a roundabout way. The carriages were moved by some real ugly winged horses, completely skeletal and with almost no visible muscles, just bones and skin.
"What do you think, would Andrew be interested in these beasties' blood?"
"No, I don't think so. Flying is more convenient in that creature's, hippogriffs, form, it also seemed to be better suited for fighting. These are… strange creatures. What are they?"
"First time I see them. I think these are just ugly flying horses."
I have no idea where Mag rode, but totally not in my carriage. Anyway, speaking with her through the mind link was much more convenient, than through, say, a mobile phone.
"Have you thought about your actions?"
"Can you speak more precisely? I forgot my English-Hinting wordbook back in London."
"You said that Dumbledore is your enemy. What are you going to do with your enemy?"
"Ah, that's simple. I'll kill him."
"How?"
"I thought it is my problem."
"I have some understanding of warfare. I can give you useful advice. We are allies, correct?"
"Alright-alright. Yes, mommy, I did my homework. Beardy wants me to give him a certain item. He knows that I hid it but doesn't know where. Grandpa thinks me an obedient boy, so I'll just lead him to a place without any witnesses and then show him that a wand is useless if someone snuck on you into the arm's length. Then I'll probably need to bark around at the professors and some guys in uniform, but the Headbastard is going to be already dead. I, on the other hand, is still a kid and a hero, with no corpse meaning no evidence to pin me down. And there won't be a body."
The answer took its time to arrive, but, judging by my sensations, Mag was content with the plan.
"Sensible. If you'll need coverage – then you'd just need to call at the right moment."
"Yeah, I'm sure of that, but your help kinda stinks. Don't misunderstand me, I respect you, but grandpa opened my head like a tin can, so I don't want to hide behind your back."
"Then I don't understand. Why would you need my help if not in war?"
"Because, other than the grandpa, there is also a very agile dead man running around, who is really bothered by my head still being on my shoulders. I can't fight ghosts, so I'll lave Voldemort to you when he'll enter the stage. Deal?"
"Yes." The demon answered shortly.
By that time we approached the castle. It, as usual, was absolutely beautiful, London's monuments and statues weren't even comparable to it. Great spires and walls looked gorgeous with the night sky as a background, although the towers could've used some machineguns and cannons sticking out. I'll fix that in time.
"The Weave is in turmoil here. Too many lines joining together."
"I think I know what's that about. You'll like it."
The carriages stopped in front of the castle's gates. The students were yelling, having fun, picked fights with each other, and I felt Death's nervousness, as she hang somewhere nearby. With every step, with every part of the way the nervousness was becoming stronger. Gates, inner yard, hall, and in front of Great Hall's gates she even started mumbling something.
Oi, Mag, you are just like an eighth-grader on the first date – all jittery. Where are your steel nerves, iron endurance, and titanium balls… wait.
In other words, I wasn't impressed.
When the gates opened, our connection suddenly felt like it was severed. I didn't hear anything, didn't feel any echoes from her. Did she just hang up on me? Yep, just like an eighth-grader. And seemed to be such a mature demon.
Alright, jokes aside. I sat at the Gryffindor's table and asked:
"So, how do you like our ceiling?"
There was no response.
"Mag? Magdiel? Yeah, with a hearing like this you sure belong in an army… Magdiel!"
"Ah? What? Sorry, it's just… This is… unthinkable..."
Alright, now I'm having trouble with my hearing. Is she crying?
"Thanks, Fate, for the ally, I guess. What's wrong?"
"Edges. I feel them! I see them! This… this is indescribable,
indescribable."
"Listen, girl-friend, I'll leave you here for a while, alright? I was never good at calming down women and you are confusing me. Slytherins – those green ones – won't understand if I'll start patting you on the head here."
"Harry Potter, of course. I… The world is still whole! Twisted, broken at the edges, but whole! What I just saw is so much more important than me, than the Earthbound, than everything. I need to think about this."
"Yeah, big news. When you come to senses – call me. Going to be interesting to know what you saw there. Just let's do it without boring lectures."
As expected, there was no answer. I'm starting to get used to it. It seems she really does have a word quota.
People were still going through the sorting, Dumbledore periodically looked at my table and I stared back with lovey-dovey eyes. I remember suspecting him in reading thoughts. If he can really do that – he must be really surprised right now. Although, of course, that's one hell of a red flag.
Eh, doesn't matter, I'll just make something up.
Ghosts were flying around the tables, although they still tried not to approach me closer than six meters. The deadmen seem to be afraid of something. What, you parasites, you can smell daddy's dichlorvos? We are going to have a real talk soon, he-he.
There were some changes among the professors, as expected: dead Quirrel's place was occupied by some sleazy mustached fop in an unusual set of robes, looking like a military uniform. The man looked at the students in the hall, observing the amount of work he has to do now. Well, at least he doesn't look like a sour epileptic and is not wearing a turban. Maybe he'll even teach us something, too bad I missed his name. It doesn't matter, he'll introduce himself at the first class anyway.
The dinner ended, sorting did so too and we, the weak-bodied and addle-brained schoolers, crawled to our common rooms and House bedrooms. Ron tried to stick to me again, but I grew as used to ignoring him as an experienced alcoholic to emptying a shot-glass – on reflexes and thinking about great things. The redhead seemed perplexed by that, I think.
And on my bed, right on the pillow, stood a carefully opened card, in which was an invitation, made in an ornate, barely readable handwriting:
'Harry, my congratulations with one more year here, at Hogwarts.
You are, undoubtedly, tired and I am very sorry to ask you about this, but please, do not go to sleep yet. We need to talk and the sooner we'll do that – the better. Of course, breaking rules is bad, but sometimes circumstances can be more important than commonly accepted norms. I hope you took the Cloak with you.
The password to my office is 'mint jelly'. It has a very specific taste, but I still recommend trying it sometimes.
A.W.P.B.D.'
Mmm, the old farter wants to force the events? All the better, I am ready to go. 'Mean Sonnuvabitch' is in the holster (yes, I bought one), the knife is in its sheath, the wand is hidden in the sleeve, all that is covered by a black cloak. Forward, to champagne that awaits me in the end!
I went through the already familiar corridors and soon faced the statue that guarded the headmaster's office. The password – an open passage – a staircase. Grandpa was waiting for me in his chair behind the table. He was reading something, either a fantasy or a romance novel, couldn't say just from the cover.
"Ah, Harry, my boy, I am so glad to see you."
"Good evening, headmaster. Sorry that I didn't come immediately after reading the note. Other boys in the room, you know." I looked down.
"Yes, of course. It's me who should be apologizing for not letting you sleep on the first day. But I have my reasons, and the first of them – my concern for your health. Do you feel alright?"
"Yes. Thank you and professor Snape very much, he is a miracle worker."
"Sometimes an exemplary talent is hiding behind a bleak appearance and professor Snape is the best illustration of that rule. I am happy that you feel better. But I still have many questions for you, after all, being Hogwarts' student, you are my responsibility. Tell me, why didn't you live with your relatives during the break?"
Fuck, I forgot about those assholes, fucking inability to pay attention to details. Eh, not too dangerous. I have 3 points in 'Subterfuge' and that's just enough to turn some native tribe into a bunch of alcoholics without any problems.
"I am very sorry before them, headmaster. After what I've done and how I behaved the last summer, I'm ashamed to look them in the eyes, nevermind live with them."
Albie liked that, look at him nodding. Although how the hell should I know, maybe he's happy that Manchester won in this season?
"It's good that you are sorry about the incident, but they are your family and still love you, deep inside. Dursleys are ready to accept you again and it would be for the best if you spend the next summer break with them. Alright?"
"If you think so." I sighed. Yeah, with my plans I can promise stuff just as freely as any politician.
"Now, about our third problem. I think I've found a solution." Headmaster opened one of his table's cabinets. "You have trouble with your memory, correct? This potion will certainly help."
The beardy's hand put on a table a flask with a transparent yellow liquid.
"Drink literally half a sip, the overdose is not dangerous, but you can slip too deep into your memories and that is not always healthy."
Oh, Albie, with pleasure. But these things usually taste awful, so I think I'll just grab one of your candies.
"Can I?" I stretched my hand towards the bowl.
"Help yourself."
The potion tasted as awful as expected, like some bitter weed or a tick would've if you start chewing them. Kinda between these two. The sugary candy did a good job, however.
Headmaster sat in silence for several seconds, then nodded to his thoughts and started asking:
"Now, Harry, to awaken your memories I will need to ask you pointing questions. Your memory will show you the answers and you will say them automatically, don't be afraid. For starters, do you remember how you lost your memories?"
"No, headmaster, nothing."
"I see, I see. That's for the better, your magical outburst was… unsightly." Albie continued in his smooth, smarmy voice. "Do you remember our conversation at the end of the last year? In the medical wing?"
"Yes, of course."
"You said back then that you don't remember where the Stone is. Is that so?"
"Yes, I did say that."
"And you honestly didn't remember?" The headmaster asked insistently.
"Yes, I didn' remember."
"And now?"
"Now I can show you the place. But it's in Forbidden Forest, closer to the castle, but still."
Albie cringed. Yeah, gotta shake them old bones, you fossil.
"And how exactly did you hide the stone?"
Well, I have an explanation, but I don't have any idea how realistic it looks. I ordered a dragonhide-strengthened strongbox from some older students, and, when I obtained the stone – I put it in there, so the magic wouldn't leak out."
Judging by the unsure headshaking of the old man, the story was not all that believable, but he ate it up. And I almost didn't lie, there really was a strongbox.
"Alright, Harry. Can you show me the place right now?"
"No problems, headmaster Dumbledore."
Pleased headmaster quickly put on a warm cloak and we together left his office. Near the staircase, the headmaster's pet – that burning raven – landed on the special leather pad on the cloak's shoulder.
"You want to walk your pet?"
"Fawkes sometimes needs a little exercising. We used to often go for walks in the evenings, but the number of papers I need to work through is increasing, the amount of free time diminishes and I myself don't get any younger."
The pleasant night air cooled me off and got me into a mischievous mood. Stop right there, first, you do business and only then you have fun. It's really good, by the way, that the school is placed in the mountains: no tall grass, just short bushes, so when you go off-road in the night nature seems not only beautiful but also easy to traverse.
"Magdiel, Potter here."
"Harry Potter?"
"I'm going out to finish this, will return late. If I won't – give Albus hell in my name."
"Alright." She answered in a completely serious tone. What an unbearable person.
We approached Hagrid's hut, with the forest starting right behind it. Wouldn't say that I know the forest like my palm, but I managed to find that clearing where that unicorn died rather easily. The place, where it lie, looks absolutely dead. Cursed blood and all that.
Hm, I wonder what would happen if I sell some unicorn blood to Andrew? Ugh, no, he'll eat me alive if he won't like the result.
"Here, headmaster, this place." I pointed at the cursed patch of land. "It isn't buried deep, I only dug for forty minutes or so."
"Hm, an unusual choice of a place. Although it does have some logic behind it – few people would risk approaching such a soil." The old man pulled out his wand. "We, of course, are not going to stand here for half an hour – it will take less time this way…"
He stepped in front of me and raised his hand…
…and immediately got stabbed right in the spine, a little under the chest. It was the strongest one I was capable of. I think I totally cut through the old pedo's spine there, people don't live long with such injuries.
"Yes! Motherfucking yes! Who fucks up the strongest people of Magical Britain here? Goddamn me!" The body started doing some weird dance on its own and even started spinning in place a couple of times. The joy was trying to rip me apart – no shitty manipulator from now on will attempt to grab my soft, gentle buttcheeks! Now I only need to bury the second one and I can live in peace, fulfilling my part of the Deal with the demon and preparing for the apocalypse. "Ha! Suck on this, Albus! Suck on that, potion master! Fuck all of you with your politics, fuck them harder than an old whore! Ten rock-solid like Ron Jeremy's boner points to Gryffindor!"
Experience points: 4;
Total experience points: 25.
Albie's body lied near the cursed place in a ridiculous pose. His feathered pet uncomfortably shifted legs, as it stood on its back and looked at the wound. Right, now I only need to get rid off the body. Burn it, bury it or levitate deeper into the forest? I heard they have huge spiders there.
Nah, a fire will burn him for too long - he'll stink, and spiders then will try to eat me. Just gonna bury him under those roots and stop worrying.
"Shoo!" I threw a pinecone at the bird. Of course, I used telekinesis for that, I'm a sorcerer after all.
The bird flew one step away and then the unthinkable happened: Dumbledore heavily moved, now lying on his back. The blue eyes looked with surprise and confusion, his hands barely moved, but goddamnit he was supposed to be dead!
"No-no-no-no, lie down, old man, don't stand up. I'm gonna sweeten up your life real good, you tough bastard." I opened my holster as fast as I could, while mumbling.
I thought that my moves were lightning-fast: threw the knife away, pull out the gun and take aim… But when I pulled out the gun and already almost pointed it at the bearded one, he touched the phoenix's head and then disappeared in a fiery blaze.
The bastard escaped, leaving me pointing the gun at an empty space and looking like a retard.
"Fuck my life. Can any of you just fucking die?!"
***
I run towards the castle with the speed of the wind. I needed to get out and as soon as possible. I had no idea what kind of spells headmaster knew and how fast he would recover, but he certainly could've whispered a thing or two to some of his old friends, and I have an unfed demon in the castle.
Need to get out and fast.
Andrew will make me a new face and I'll start the life anew. Without the heroic reputation, but at least I won't get the 'big shot assault' in my portfolio.
When I reached the tower, I immediately started packing things. The neighbors woke up from all the noise, but I didn't give a shit. I had a few bags, deciding not to take the ammo into the school, although it seemed like a very good idea.
"Mag! Mag, you deaf woman, pick up the phone!"
"Harry Potter? How did your plan go?"
"Slippery – I went, I slipped, I fucking fell. Dumby survived and ran away. I tore his spine apart and he still survived! We need to get out, right now!"
"What? No! The Edges are here, we can't just leave!"
"Fucking amazing! The castle stood for a thousand years and will stand just as many when we come back!"
"I cannot leave. Not now. I need several more days."
Bloody wonderful. What an awesome evening, am I right? I just needed to jump into a pool of shit and start drowning.
"Alright, demon, I am not your daddy. If you need to – fine, sit here. I'll be in the village nearby, it's called Hogsmeade, and try to wait for you. If I won't be there – get out on your own." And I ran away from the castle as fast as possible.
But I didn't get away very far. The road was already patrolled by two figures, looking around with their wands glowing like projectors. I tried to sneak past – my cloak ain't no Turkish jacket - but one of them, a raggedy and scarred old man, started flinging at me all kinds of unpleasant shit, like 'expelliarmuses', 'stupefyes', etc. There was some other explosive shit too, I didn't recognize it.
He wasn't too precise with it, but just enough to make me retreat back to the castle. There, I locked myself up in one of the classrooms on the sixth floor.
"Mag?"
"I'm listening."
"Come to me. I'm on the sixth floor, in the eighteenth classroom. It's in the right wing, near the wall entrance."
"You didn't run away?"
"No. The old man already signaled out and his people blocked out the exit. I can look for other ways, but it's either through the forest or through the lake, both options suck."
"Wait for me, I'll arrive soon."
And she really did appear two minutes later, as a transparent figure that went right through the door and then gained flesh. Mag looked at me unemotionally, then sighed and sit beside me.
"You failed."
"Yep. And I was sure that he already kicked it." I rubbed my forehead. Strangely, I immediately felt better.
"I can kill him. Are you interested in my help now?"
"Now – yes." I chuckled. "But that would be useless. When he's going to return? Tomorrow? A month later? Or are you going to sit here for a whole year? And besides, I am already in a deep, deep ass on the enemy territory. He'll defame me so hard that only Voldie could compare. Well, I would've, at least."
"I cannot get you out of the castle. Only through the World of the Dead, but trust me – you don't want to even try. Besides, I want to personally see other Edges and it can be dangerous – I sense immense energies out there."
I know myself that everything went to shit, but I don't have many options. The worst thing is that the demon now can just ditch me – I am not a hero anymore and I already showed her the way to the Wizarding World. Money… With her talents, money is a question of twenty minutes or so of free time. But I am still glad that she helps me. I wonder if Magdiel herself realized that I am useless now or does she just have her own reasons to keep helping me?
But again, how the hell should I know if her help would go further than just a heartfelt conversation.
"Whatever. It's not so bad here. Besides, I have a sweet cloak and the castle has as many tunnels and secret passages as swiss cheese. I can make it. With time I'll just find a hole to squeeze into if they won't get me before that."
Magdiel sat in silence for some time and then nodded to me:
"They will not."
She raised her head and, as if speaking to the ceiling, said in the same whisper of a thousand people that almost got my pants wet the first time I met her:
"Everyone who can hear. Everyone who can hear. I order you to come to me."
For some time, around a minute, we sat in silence and darkness. And then the ghosts started appearing right out of the floor, with the first being that fat Hufflepuff monk. They all were pearly white; rotting and life-like; wounded and died from old age; in chainmail, surtout and crinolines; dozens of them. I had no idea that there are so many dead people at Hogwarts.
The last was Peeves, who got dragged through the masonry screaming and struggling. I knew the bastard was a ghost all along.
Mag looked them over, blinked, shook her head, and then asked in the same voice, but now in a slightly surprised tone:
"What are you?"
Ghosts started mumbling and bubbling something, with no one obviously willing to answer. But, for some reason, they couldn't not to:
"Ghosts. And who are you?"
"You are not ghosts." Magdiel snorted. "I do not know what are you, but definitely something less. He, however," She nodded at Peeves. "Was once a human, which makes him a spirit of the dead.
He is a ghost. So I ask you again and you must answer me, for I am Magdiel the Slayer, a fallen knight of Lucifer's Blood Legion. I am Death. And I demand your answer."
There was some commotion within the dead ranks, but it quickly stopped. Heh, the bastards feel when they should just shut up and behave. And, well, that's understandable – Mag just wielded so much pathos that the floor could've collapsed.
"We are ghosts, Mistress," Baron answered in a much more polite manner. "At least, we always thought ourselves to be. Every single one of us here once was a living person, a wizard. We do not know why Peeves is different, but he is certainly older than us and older than Hogwarts. All of us started living in the castle at some point, and he's already been here."
Magdiel was certainly confused by the answer, even her expressions became much more live-like.
"Spirits then? I don't understand. You
should not exist. I don't see anything in you other than a spark of consciousness and that…" She waved at Baron's body. "…pitiful excuse of a shell. Where are your Shadows?"
"Shadows? You mean dementors?" Nicolas, the Gryffindor Tower's ghost, blurted out. Others immediately started shushing him, but it was too late.
Mag beckoned him and Nicolas approached.
"Speak, creature."
Nicolas gulped, which made his head twitch and fell to the side. Mag winced. He, however, quickly regained his composure and started speaking:
"We don't know much, madam, but every spirit at his death saw something dark separating from them, which looked like a dementor. Yes, madam, it's true. They sometimes attack others and do, well, the thing they do and then fly to Azkaban. But I swear, madam, nobody here wanted them to manifest!"
Mag kind of froze in place.
"Harry, do you understand what they are saying?"
"Not a word. What the hell are dementors? They are feeding you bullshit."
She again turned to the dead people:
"Restless souls, I order you to obey my ally, Harry Potter. His orders must be fulfilled as if they are my orders. His questions must be answered as if I asked you. I am leaving, but I will come back. If Harry Potter will be dead by then – you will pay for that. If he will live, but not because of you and against your efforts – I will teach him and
he will make you pay."
Ghosts bowed. Well, would you look at that – just this morning I could barely control a zipper on my pants and now I can order around a hundred or so of fake ghosts.
"What, you really would teach me?" I whispered to Mag.
"Of course not, but they don't need to know that." She answered just as quietly.
"Well, thanks for this, at least."
"You are welcome. I helped you – now everything is in your hands. If you get out of this trap you put yourself in – our cooperation will continue. If not – then you are not as good as you insisted."
Yep. A demon, everyone, a woman of no sentiments whatsoever. Well, mostly.
"Mag, one more thing."
"Yes?"
"You are going to leave through the Great Hall's ceiling?"
"Yes."
"I left a strongbox on the other side of it, in Umbra, it's covered in a crocodile-like skin. Can you look for it? If you find it – keep it with you until I come back for it."
The demon graciously nodded.
"I will look for it and I will keep it. Do your best to get out, Harry Potter. You were very useful to me so far and I don't want to lose such an ally."
After that, she again turned into a cloud of fog and sipped through the floor.
I was left alone with dozens of kneeling ghosts in front of me.
What a night.
Experience points: 1;
Total experience points: 26.