What young Malfoy did not notice was the semi-transparent, distorted figure hovering several dozen meters away from him. On this day, as every year, the poltergeist looked particularly terrifying: his appearance was a challenge to the very concept of reason. Literally an embodied nightmare, capable of causing soul-chilling fear, even in a seasoned Auror. It was exactly like this that a first-year Slytherin had once seen him, and since then, he had avoided visiting the boys' bathroom on that floor.
But this time, Peeves' demonic interest was of a different kind. His scarlet eyes, burning like coals, were fixed seemingly on the very essence of the Slytherin. He sensed it. Sensed this tasty, concentrated clot of death emanations that nourished the poltergeist on Samhain, and which was now woven into the magical aura of the platinum-haired Hogwarts student. This was a rare, almost gourmet aroma for a creature feeding on chaos and negative energy, which usually had to be drawn from the strong, negative emotions of hundreds of children. Peeves greedily inhaled the invisible fluids and passionately desired, at that moment, to get closer and suck out all this bizarre energy, to feed on it… If not for the restrictions… And if not for him.
The moment Peeves, with his needle-sharp teeth bared in a hideous grin, moved even a little closer to the Slytherins walking towards their common room… The moment he made an impulsive move forward, a low, grinding hum sounded in the air nearby. It was the clanking of heavy chains dragging across the stone floor. The sound was quiet, but it cut into the poltergeist's essence, causing his translucent form to shudder in pain and terror.
From the shadows, another figure slowly emerged. It was the Bloody Baron. His spectral robes were stained with dark, eternal bloodstains that could not be washed away, and his face bore an expression of endless sorrow and unbending will. He was not as powerful in the physical world as the unbridled poltergeist. But here, in the realm of ghosts… in matters of the beyond, his mere presence began to corrode Peeves' spiritual essence.
The Baron did not say a word. He simply looked at the demonic figure of Peeves and at the passage into which the Slytherin had disappeared. His silent, warning gaze was more eloquent than any threat. The chains clanked again, causing the poltergeist to clutch his head, as if trying to tear his own face apart.
Peeves froze in this pose, his burning eyes narrowing with malicious disappointment. He let out a quiet, hissing-like grumble that dissolved into the stones. Then, reluctantly, his grotesque figure wavered and dissolved into the air, leaving behind only ectoplasm.
The Bloody Baron stared at the entrance to the Slytherin common room for a few more moments. His gaze was full of some complex, unspoken thought, but there were no listeners. He slowly turned and drifted away, but the sound of his chains echoed for a long time in the empty and dark corridors.
***
1990, November 21st.
The Dueling Club hall on Wednesday was almost empty, but even a few people would have prevented us from sparring properly. We both disliked unnecessary publicity of our skills. Everyone already knew that I, for my age, and my sparring partner, in general, were strong enough. And if you can count to ten, you say you can count to five, but show you can count to seven.
This applied especially to me. Hardly anyone could even imagine that a third-year Arcturus Malfoy could stand against the school's strongest duelist and put up a decent fight.
That's why I stood in the middle of a spacious, unused, but still not magically preserved, abandoned classroom. While I was thinking about when the remnants of death emanations would finally leave my magical flow, my sparring partner — Merula Snyde — was shifting impatiently from foot to foot.
My thoughts, however, were far from the upcoming training session with the seventh-year Slytherin. Over three weeks had already passed, and the ritual's effect was still with me. Barely a third of the temporary "buff" remained, but even that was noticeable, considering how powerful the ritual's effect had been.
I literally felt the increase every day during my training sessions, which had become longer — after all, the magical reserve stretched that night allowed me to exert myself fully for longer than usual. Even some dark-type spells flew out with unusual ease and, it seemed, with greater power. But I felt… somehow detached from life. Gradually, I was becoming more emotionally frozen, if you will.
But there was another side to this negative influence of death emanations. A positive effect, which had been so palpable right after the ritual, when literally every little thing in life caused an instant flash of anger in me. A late owl, a sideways glance from a Gryffindor, my own clumsiness — any reason made my blood boil. Fortunately, I had long since learned to suppress the mild manifestations of my ancestral curse — those comparable simply to strong human rage.
But why did I feel that this trend was connected to the rituals from the chain… It was all strange. Grandmother couldn't have… nah, unlikely. Definitely not!
Now, suppressing the anger was also helped by the influence of that very portion of death energy that had mixed with my magic. It was like a stream of ice water pouring into boiling oil. It didn't seem to extinguish the anger, but it definitely cooled something. Also, I seemed to observe my outbursts from the outside, with cold curiosity, before suppressing them.
It was unpleasant to know that when the effect of this "admixture" disappeared, the storm of anger would continue with the same force. Therefore, I trained Occlumency and the necessary methods with even greater zeal. By the way, a funny situation had recently occurred in DADA. Just this week, the teacher decided it was time for us to learn to resist Boggarts.
The spectral creature, changing its form to that which its victim feared most.
It wasn't particularly dangerous physically; it was defeated simply by not feeding it with fear, but if a Boggart fed on fear, it could become very, very dangerous. Its danger was usually psychological, due to its ability to extract the most intimate horror from the depths of the subconscious, but again, the danger depended on the fear of its victims.
That is, the creature had the potential to become quite powerful, just like poltergeists, but it would need colossal feeding in the form of fear. By the way, prepared Occlumens and pure-bloods with strong natural defenses could not hide from its primitive but persistent emotional probing. After all, the otherworldly entity did not break through the defense; it probed.
In short, when my turn came, the Boggart remained in the previous student's form and… hesitated. The spectral creature wanted to take the form of my greatest fear. But firstly, I didn't really know what I feared most myself. And secondly, even the Boggart's abilities were insufficient to probe my mind and emotions.
I even felt these pathetic, tentacle-like touches of mental magic. They frantically slid over the impenetrable barriers of my mind, trying to find a crack and latch onto any emotion, but instead disintegrated into dust at the slightest application of force. The defense built by years of Occlumency training, and the natural defense multiplied by the ritual at age eleven, made my mind a veritable fortress. Plus, the new, icy indifference that had settled in me after the forest… in short, the Boggart had no chance.
Receiving my smirk instead of fear, which with each second turned into arrogant laughter, the Boggart panicked. It began frantically changing forms, grabbing fears of other students present that day, and then started cycling through everything it considered terrifying throughout its existence. Dozens of images — from giant spiders and Inferi to pale Dementors — flashed before the astonished audience. Even the teacher froze in shock.
At some point, I got tired of it and decided to toy with the otherworldly creature. A mental message I sent in all directions with a bunch of fear emotions… well, it was an interesting experiment. It became especially interesting when the Boggart turned into a small hamster.
Everyone started laughing hysterically. In short, I didn't even bother with the formal spell, and the creature, from the laughter and merriment, not receiving any fear fuel, began to shrink, again wanting to start its incessant form-changing. But with a sharp movement of my wand, I sent a beam of blinding light, clearly pronouncing the spell — Lumos Solem. The light, painful to a creature that loved darkness, made it emit inarticulate sounds. With such a "squeak," the Boggart recoiled and, shrinking, crawled back into the cupboard. It even closed itself in there.
"Ahem… well, you managed it, Mr. Malfoy," the teacher stated, clearly not knowing how else to comment, and hastened to call the next student.
That's how the lesson went, more or less. It was amusing…
"Hey, Malfoy! Did you fall asleep or something?"
A sharp, mocking voice tore me from my memories. Before me still stood Merula Snyde, arms crossed. Her displeased look, with raised eyebrow, now expressed pure irritation.
"Daydreaming, Prince? It's time to start sparring, I'm bored!" she shrugged impatiently. "Today even Esmeralda isn't here to cheerfully giggle about how she'd kill someone and hide the body. You'll have to entertain me all by yourself."
"That sounds rather ambiguous, Merula," I said with a smirk and, it seemed, caused her a nervous tic born of contemplating whether to kill me now or during the sparring. "I wouldn't mind, Miss Snyde, but…"
"Malfoy… are you immortal, or what!?"
Seeing that one more remark and an explosive curse would hit me in the chest, I decided not to tempt fate further.
"Alright, don't be angry. Just got distracted, but if you're so bored… I'll gladly fix that. Shall we begin?"
I assumed a dueling stance, and my look lost its smile — maximum concentration was necessary with her! Though I admit, every time before sparring with her, I'm filled with anticipation. Merula, moving to her side, bared her teeth in response, showing something between a smile and a grimace expressing a desire to annihilate me. And she also assumed a mirrored stance.
There were no spectators, no rules. Only the space cleared of chairs and desks, and her — Merula Snyde. "Hogwarts' Most Powerful Witch," as her crazy friend loved to call her. I called her that too when I wanted to annoy her, and she responded by calling me "Prince." So we, mutually mocking each other's school nicknames, constantly tried to jab, but not out of enmity.
There was no bow before sparring either. There never was with us.
The first strike was hers. Her left hand without a wand shot forward, and a curtain of smoke erupted from her palm, and from the smoke, I immediately noticed several fireballs flying out in succession. I lunged forward and sideways, feeling the heat scorch the air near my temple.
I countered the attack, right on the move, with a sharp wave; stones held in advance by telekinesis began to rain down at enormous speed. "The Most Powerful" was under the smoke screen, but an enhanced Ventus spell soon revealed the picture ahead… and she was no longer there. Damn! She's to the side!
The thought that came at the very last moment saved me, when a Protego appeared in time between me and the incoming Diffindo. The quickly conjured shielding spell, which caught the light cutting curse, was transformed by me into my "Protege Socium"!
The shield, with a complex honeycomb-like structure, withstood the stream of various spells that began to rain down on me like from a cornucopia. Spells that managed to penetrate the defensive sphere deployed around me were blocked by the ordinary dome as the lower layer. Within milliseconds, the honeycomb restored itself at the breach points, and this continued for a long time — well, for a duel of this level, a few seconds.
Convinced of her safety, Merula used an explosive spell that literally shook the classroom, creating a huge breach in the outer shield, which began to restore itself with surprising speed, but it wasn't enough. The subsequent Reducto threatened to destroy the lower layer before the main shield could restore itself. And that was already life-threatening.
The curse, which could have crumbled a whole boulder into pieces, hit the shield. There was enough energy to break through everything, but I dropped the shielding charm at the very last second, ducking sideways and performing a literal somersault upon landing.
This move, of course, my opponent had calculated. I was supposed to be caught by a couple of Stunners, but by some miracle, rising from the somersault in one fluid motion, I managed with light flicks to deflect each incoming spell into the walls and ceiling.
Immediately after, I didn't wait. I attacked simultaneously with spells from my wand and telekinesis. Behind me, at a distance of a good twenty meters, chairs rose into the air and, screeching, flew towards her, converging from all sides.
If it weren't for the fact that she herself had chosen to stand opposite me and sweep everything I could throw away from me, I would have gone all out. But as it was, the distance required monstrous control and a sea of energy to lift and send even the nearest chairs flying from such a distance.
She didn't flinch.
"Vento Verto!"
Her wand traced an arc, spinning with her around her own axis in a circular motion. A powerful shockwave swept away the flying chairs and stones that I had again accelerated and sent at her. And also me.
But one large pebble was intercepted back by telekinesis, and I sent it straight towards where she had dodged from the spells flying at her. I would have intercepted more objects after the wind's shockwave, but I was also blown away quite a bit. The unexpectedly incoming stone crashed directly into her shoulder. Not hard, since I couldn't accelerate it enough, and I had no desire to kill or seriously injure. But enough to cause pain and leave a bruise.
Generally, we didn't really go easy on each other. Anything that didn't cause fatal harm and wasn't instantly lethal, we used. This way we developed in conditions close to real combat.
Of course, even so, it was all very dangerous, but we weren't children either. We used explosive spells only when seeing a solid defense. Among cutting spells, only Diffindo or my wandless analogues. In short, we both knew how we could easily send an opponent to the afterlife, but we held back. We weren't about to kill each other…
Snyde snarled — from the dull pain and the rage at having fallen into a trap. She knew about my telekinesis and kept her distance, but in this cage of stone, it was a game of cat and mouse.
She lunged to close the distance, her eyes almost burning with joyful emotions. Her wand sang, firing a fan of dozens of thin, blue clots of magic from an unknown but clearly silently woven spell. I began to retreat, sending a Stunner with each step back. My wand moved at tremendous speed, erecting not just one shield before me, but a cascade of Protegos quickly breached by her attacks. Monstrous expenditure, but my reserve allowed it, and the reserve stretched by a third over the past weeks had repeatedly given me a strong advantage. And even now, the remaining, what felt like, ten percent, provided a lot.
My approaching opponent rained almost a machine-gun burst of spells upon me, not allowing me even to blink. She knew that this way I couldn't use telekinesis. Several needles of magical energy passed very close, touching my clothes, and one even left a burning line on my skin. At a distance! If such a particle hit, it could leave a serious wound.
The distance had closed significantly. Only a few meters remained between us, and Merula switched to cruder methods. A wave of her wand, and the previously safe stone floor under my feet heaved, trying to grab my leg. It was an unfamiliar spell to me.
I noticed it immediately, pushed off with my legs, and, enhancing it all with a powerful telekinetic impulse from my legs, performed an unnaturally powerful jump backward, simultaneously hurling back a clot of compressed air with a recently learned spell. But she simply sliced through the spell with her wand… like a knife through a flying fruit. And then, immediately lunged after me.
The final stage of our insane dance began, where we circled, closed in, and separated to the rhythm of spells flying at each other, balancing on the very edge of acceptable safety.