====== Part 56. How long can a rope twist... ==========
In the dungeons of Parkinson Manor, an old man hung crucified on the wall. The Dark Lord sat in a chair in front of him, watching his torment with lazy interest. Finally, cancelling another Cruciatus, Voldemort hissed maliciously, catching his victim's gaze:
"Don't test my patience, Ollivander. You created two identical wands specifically so that little Potter and I couldn't harm each other with them. Is that right?!" the dark wizard's voice lashed out at the old man.
"I was only following Dumbledore's request. I didn't know who would get the second wand," Ollivander moaned in a weak voice.
"I need a new concentrator, more powerful, better suited to my magic," Voldemort snarled fiercely. "And you will make it for me, or you will die, old man! Crucio!"
After enjoying the agonising screams for another minute, the Dark Lord regretfully cancelled the "torture" and "stinging" spells and encouraged the old man to speak.
"I cannot make you a stronger wand," Ollivander whispered desperately. "I have been working with only three cores for a long time now.
"Then you are useless to me!" hissed the enraged Voldemort, raising his wand.
"Stop!" Ollivander cried desperately. "No, please!" The old man's tearful eyes searched helplessly in front of him. "There is a master named Grigorovich in Bulgaria. Rumour has it that many years ago, he had the most powerful wand in the world. By studying it, he learned to make concentrators better than I do," Ollivander muttered feverishly.
"The most powerful wand?" Voldemort was inspired. "I'll find out where Grigorovich hid it. No one would voluntarily give up something like that. The cunning man probably kept it for himself so he could continue to study the secrets of the ancients."
"All right, Ollivander," the half-reptile's red eyes flashed maliciously. "No more torture, I promise you."
The force holding the old man against the wall disappeared, and he collapsed onto the stone floor with a groan.
"Stay here for now, old man," the Dark Lord's malicious hiss was not at all like laughter.
"Nox!" Voldemort waved his wand, and then, almost at the exit of the dungeons, continued in Parseltongue:
"Naga! Play with your new mouse a little longer before you eat it. Bon appétit, my dear.
Ollivander lay near the wall in the darkness, unable even to lift his trembling hand to wipe the cold sweat from his brow. Icy shivers ran through the tortured body of the unfortunate old man, who expected nothing good from life. And from the door through which he who must not be named had left, a soft rustling sound could be heard slowly approaching...
The next day in Bulgaria, the shop of a famous master craftsman who made walking sticks was closed and the windows were tightly curtained. Disgruntled customers turned away and walked past.
"I really don't know!" cried Grigorovich, cowering at the feet of a dark figure in a hood. "Grindelwald stole it from me a long time ago. But I managed to understand some of its properties. I can make you a powerful wand, sir. Please don't kill me," cried the master, his voice breaking.
"Legilimens," Voldemort rudely invaded Grigorovich's mind, searching through his memories for that very moment. Satisfied that the master was not lying, the Dark Lord hissed fiercely:
"I expect a truly exceptional wand from you, Grigorovich. Otherwise, you will have to meet my favourite, and I'm afraid you won't like her...
"I'll have to visit Grindelwald in Nurmengard," Voldemort thought irritably, kicking Grigorovich's body away from the entrance. "Couldn't Gellert have just lost her? But then, what else can you expect from that pathetic failure?"
***
The plane touched the runway and cheerfully raced across the concrete. Through the window, you could see the long building of the international airport. The white cap of the Untersberg mountain hinted that the ski season was already open. Passengers hurried to the transport platforms, chatting as they walked and looking forward to a great holiday. The path of two fair-haired, unremarkable tourists led to an ancient castle that stood proudly on Festung Mountain.
In the car park, they were met by a girl who helped them put two small bags in the boot of a well-worn BMW. Once they reached Festungsstrasse 4, the trio boarded the funicular and quietly admired the beautiful surrounding landscape as their simple means of transport climbed up to the castle. After paying almost thirty-eight euros to the good-natured cashier, they finally entered the castle grounds and headed for the "Golden Hall". Carefully running his fingers along the leather-covered wall, decorated with gilded embossing and unique ornamentation, one of the tourists even clicked his tongue in amazement, imagining the complexity of such decoration.
None of the visitors paid any attention to an inconspicuous part of the wall, and our travellers, accompanied by an unremarkable girl, calmly entered the door that appeared on the wall. As expected, there was no other room behind it, but a stationary portal that transported the travellers higher up into the mountains, right into a village near the infamous Nurmengard.
The fortress prison, where its owner, the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald, was still being held, was a grey and gloomy building surrounded by wooded mountains. Of course, it was possible to travel here directly, but in that case, the castle guards would immediately receive an alarm signal and a group of Aurors on duty would be dispatched to meet the intruder, which, if necessary, could be reinforced by a hundred combat mages providing round-the-clock protection for the notorious criminal.
After settling into a small house they had rented in advance, standing among a cluster of similar houses at the foot of the castle, the three mages finally sat down at the dinner table.
"Aren't you afraid so far from home, Olesya?" asked the younger, stockier man in a bass voice.
"I'm a snake, Svyatoslav," the girl smiled coquettishly, shaking her large gold earrings. "No one will touch me."
The second tourist removed his disguise and revealed himself to be a thin, greasy old man with a sharp nose and evil eyes.
"Let's get down to business," the sharp-nosed man squeaked discontentedly. "Did you manage to find the path to the castle, vest?"
The girl's face darkened.
"No, Velimir. My snakes can't get past the German's defences. He did his best when he was in his prime.
"The elders had a prophecy," said the sharp-nosed sorcerer instructively. "Today we will be able to finish off that cursed freak.
A fire of anticipation lit up in Svyatoslav's eyes, and a flash of lightning flashed between his fists lying on the table, and the room immediately smelled of ozone.
"Calm your temper, thunderer," the priest of Veles snapped at him. "Or the local Auroras will flock to your intemperance.
Svyatoslav, embarrassed, pulled himself together, completely removing the glow, and muttered something in his defence, referring to his hot temper.
Trying to lighten the tense atmosphere, Olesya began to lay out a simple meal on the table.
"Eat, dear guests, and I'll whisper to my snakes to follow the castle and let me know if anything happens.
Late at night, when the guests were fast asleep, Olesya, curled up in her true form as a snake woman, listened intently to the astral background of the fortress. In her magical perception, the protective cocoon of the castle appeared as a mirrored labyrinth with an ever-changing surface reflecting the surrounding mountains. Suddenly, a barely perceptible ripple passed across the surface of the mirrors, and the girl opened her eyes, her pupils vertical.
"Get up," she hissed softly into the dark doorway of the bedroom, and the guests immediately awoke and began to rise.
"What did you smell?" croaked the wizard, adjusting his clothes and picking up his staff.
Svyatoslav was also ready, holding an oak stick at the ready. His eyes began to glow slightly with stormy flashes, demonstrating the swaying of a magical source.
"A creature connected to my people has slipped through the defences unnoticed. It bears the old student mark of someone who is allowed access to the fortress," reported the snake.
"Only Dumbledore from England had free passage," Velimir squeaked. "But he seems to have died without leaving an heir?
"Then it must be his student," Svyatoslav muttered. "Valemont or whatever his name is..."
"The main thing is that he's connected to my people," hissed Olesya. "I can follow him and lead you through. That way we won't get lost in the mirrors!"
The Slavic magicians climbed the castle stairs in complete silence; not even the wind could be heard. The castle was completely cut off from the outside world, but the astral trail of the stranger, clearly visible to the astral eye, allowed them to pass through the mirrored protection. As soon as they reached the top of the central tower, guided by a faint sense of life, Velemir signalled with his hand, urging them to be more careful. At that moment, the other magicians also heard the heart-rending cry of a tortured man. Gliding silently through the corridors and finding the door they were looking for, Olesya waved her hand in front of it, and all the locks disappeared for a moment.
Bursting into the room, they saw a grey-haired, unkempt man writhing on the floor, tormented by Cruciatus, and a black hooded figure standing over him with a stick. The stranger had just begun to turn around, hastily interrupting the torture, when he was immediately struck by a bright bolt of lightning as thick as an adult's arm. There was a smell of ozone and burnt skin, and for a few seconds, while the lightning raged in the room, a low, soul-piercing hum could be heard.
Finally, the storm subsided, and Svyatoslav lowered his oak stick.
"Well, it seems I didn't kill him," muttered the magician, levitating closer to the unconscious figure in black.
"Yeah, just roasted him," the servant of Veles squeaked discontentedly. "Perun's army, what can you expect from them?" The old mage waved his hand hopelessly. "Don't forget to remove the traces from his skin."
Svyatoslav chuckled smugly, lifting the stranger's hood.
"Oh, Valemont!" he exclaimed in surprise. "You really do have the face of a snake.
Olesya curiously leaned closer to him.
"Ugh," the girl wrinkled her nose. "He's not one of us. He's the result of a crooked ritual, raised on the blood of the young. And he stinks so bad, I wonder how Mother Earth can bear such filth.
Velimir, ignoring them, approached the unconscious, grey-haired man and turned him onto his back with the toe of his boot.
"You're caught, Grindelwald, you black soul," the Slavic sorcerer squeaked with deep satisfaction.
Raising his staff, he turned it into a sword and with one light swing cut off the man's arm, immediately casting a spell on the stump to stop the bleeding. With the next pass, constantly checking the appearance of the man who was still unconscious, the wizard created an exact copy of Grindelwald from the severed limb.
"There," Velemir said with satisfaction. "Now no one will guess that this one is fake.
Shrinking Grindelwald, who had not yet regained consciousness, the wizard carefully placed him in a pouch and hid it in his bosom.
"What should we do with this?" asked Svyatoslav, nodding towards Voldemort.
Veles' servant thought for a moment, then waved his hand indifferently, deciding to create a false trail.
"Olesya, replace his memory, let him think that he killed Grindelwald and let him go wherever he wants, we don't need him," ordered the old wizard. "And we're leaving, just as we came. And this creature," Veles' servant patted his pocket, "will suffer eternal torment in our temples for the millions of innocents he has destroyed!"
A short time later, the magicians found Voldemort unconscious, leaning against the wall near the window, after which Olesya led everyone back the way they had come. Standing in a circle, all three grabbed the long portal woven from horsehair, and within a few minutes, no one could tell that anyone had ever been there, even the residual traces of magic had disappeared.
Voldemort suddenly opened his eyes, standing near the window and still holding his wand. The body of his recent interlocutor lay at his feet.
"Ugh, loser," grimaced the Dark Lord, replaying in his head everything he had managed to extract from Grindelwald: "So you were just waiting, old man, for Dumbledore to pull you out? You even lost Grigorievich's wand to him in a duel, you naive fool!"
Wrapping himself in his cloak, Voldemort made his way to the edge of the tower and immediately apparated away, no longer caring about secrecy. The alarm immediately sounded in the Auror barracks, but the duty team, arriving a few seconds later, saw only the dead body of the dark wizard who, during his lifetime, had struck fear into entire countries.
***
Cassius received a letter from Lovegood and decided not to delay his visit. Transfiguring himself not far from the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, he slowly made his way to the address indicated. Seeing from afar a black, three-storey house resembling a crooked chess rook, Lord Black slowly climbed the hill and knocked with a curious hammer shaped like an eagle. There were several plaques on the door, one of which read: "Mr. Lovegood, Editor-in-Chief, Quibbler." "So I'm in the right place," thought Cassius to himself.
After a moment, the door was opened by a white-haired, dishevelled man with a completely lost look on his face.
"Hello, sir," Cassius smiled. "I am Lord Black, we had an appointment. You said I could come by anytime, so here I am, sorry for not calling ahead.
"Please come into the kitchen, Lord Black," Xenophilius smiled awkwardly and returned to the hallway.
After staring at this strange man, Cassius nevertheless followed his host into the house.
Curiously glancing around the round room with its kitchen utensils and a spiral staircase leading upstairs in the middle, the young wizard sat down on the only chair not occupied by junk. Xenophilius was fussily trying to put a kettle on the stove with trembling hands.
"Is something wrong, Mr. Lovegood? You don't look well," Cassius decided to leave if the editor wasn't ready to discuss the topic Black needed.
"Something has happened," the man collapsed into a chair, "I'm completely confused and don't know what to do!"
Cassius looked at Lovegood warily. The despair in the white-haired man's voice was tinged with utter hopelessness. Cracking his long, nervous fingers, he began to share his troubles, lowering his eyes:
"In my journal, sir, I was careless enough to express the opinion of society about the new government and their methods. People in silver masks came to me and explained that my daughter — here the man sobbed, covering his face with his hands. — She... She... She was taken from Hogwarts by the Death Eaters, and I was ordered to print the same thing as all the other publishers, otherwise she would die... And if any of the undesirables come to see me, I must immediately send an owl to the DMF," Xenophilius said, tears streaming down his face. "Otherwise, they'll kill her..." he whispered.
Black looked sympathetically at the broken publisher.
"Hmm, I'm not an undesirable person for our ministry yet," Cassius smiled. "If you didn't want to see anyone, why did you agree to meet us?
"No, Mr. Black," Lovegood waved his hand nervously, barely managing to keep the teapot from falling on himself. "I didn't mean you, but this morning our neighbours, the Weasleys, broke into my house in a terrible state, and Mr. Potter was with them! I had no choice, I really had no other option," the white-haired wizard jumped up, wringing his hands. "The Death Eaters will be here soon, you'd better leave.
At that moment, on the second floor, Molly Weasley, who had rested a little, frowned more and more, listening to the conversation below.
"Mordred," the woman gritted her teeth, immediately going up to the third floor bedroom where the teenagers were now resting. On the high ceiling of the room, portraits had been skilfully painted: Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Neville, bound together as if by chains with the golden words "friends."
The teenagers were discussing how Polly was spending her time at Hogwarts when the door flew open and a deathly pale Molly rushed inside.
"The Death Eaters will be here soon! We have to leave this house immediately," the woman gasped. "Harry, you were at the Longbottom's in the manor, can you Apparate there?
"Yes, ma'am," Potter mumbled uncertainly.
"You can't handle a double Transfiguration, we don't need a split," Molly assessed the children's condition carefully. "And you can't get there on your own," she cut off Ron, who had jumped up.
After thinking for a moment, she looked at the children and made up her mind:
"Ginny, Ronald! Take my arms and hold on as tight as you can. I'll transport myself straight to the Longbottoms. Harry, follow us immediately, do you understand? It's become very dangerous here.
Grabbing the children by the arms, she spun around and disappeared into the portal with them. Potter was about to follow her when he glanced up at the ceiling again, and at that moment, the teenager felt very hurt. So their friend Polumna's father also works for the Death Eaters? Otherwise, why would he betray the fugitives who hadn't even been with him for half a day?
The desire to say everything to the vile traitor became so unbearable that Potter decided to look into the eyes of this man, who had immediately become unpleasant to him. "I can always escape from here," thought Harry. "And finding out from Lovegood how many galleons he sold his daughter's best friends for will be the right thing to do."
The teenager descended the stairs and saw Xenophilius, with tears in his eyes, and a tall, fair-haired wizard in a rich robe, whom he recognised with hostility as the man who had killed his godfather.
"Er, hello, sir," the teenager muttered angrily, not knowing how to begin his angry speech. At the sight of the haughty Black, all the right words flew out of his head.
Lovegood looked at Potter with reddened eyes and squeezed out:
"Run, Harry, the Death Eaters will be here any minute. Translate quickly!"
Feeling Polumna's despair, Potter immediately tried to spin around, but nothing happened; the apparition didn't work.
"They must be here already," Black commented melancholically on the failed attempt, then his face contorted with some unpleasant memory.
"Potter!" Cassius hissed suddenly, thinking something over. "You're a Hogwarts student, did a dragon eat you? Or did you graduate already?" Black looked at him hopefully.
"Seventh year, sir," Potter flashed his glasses in surprise.
"Oh, Basileus, you Mordred worm! You've really done it now," Cassius groaned to himself. "What, am I supposed to save this hooligan from death? And rescue the editor's daughter from captivity?"
The house began to vibrate slightly from the irritated wizard's spontaneous reaction, and Black looked at Potter, who was completely confused, with displeasure. Suddenly, the Exploding Snap horn upstairs exploded with a loud bang, sensing the dark magic flowing from Cassius. Harry immediately grabbed his wand and looked up warily.
At that moment, there was a confident knock on the door.
"Open up, Lovegood," someone shouted in a loud voice.
Xenophilius hunched over and shuffled towards the entrance, his slippers scraping the floor.
"Stay here," Cassius hissed to the teenager who was about to follow Xenophilius, "and hide somewhere!
Harry hesitated, pulled out a light silver cloak and immediately threw it over his head, disappearing in an instant.
Cassius grunted with satisfaction and rose from his chair, then slowly made his way to the exit. When he stepped outside, he saw Lovegood standing on the bottom step, surrounded by a crowd of wizards in black, led by a vaguely familiar wizard. Cassius struggled to remember that a girl who looked similar was studying with his brother. "That must be her father," thought Cassius, looking at the smug man, whose expression was somewhat similar to that of a pug.
Meanwhile, Parkinson, looking down on the cowering Lovegood, growled angrily:
"Xenophilius. Where are your guests, you mumbling fool!
"I'm here, sir," came Black's sneering voice, and the Devourer stared at him in surprise.
"You said you had Potter in your house," he grabbed Lovegood by the lapels. "And here's some Mordred wizard who..."
"I would ask you, sir, to be more polite when speaking of a lord you do not know," Cassius interrupted coldly. "Otherwise, I may have to teach your wretched company some manners.
"What are you babbling about, you runt?" Parkinson snarled. "Or is it Potter himself in disguise, and Xenophon?"
Then he turned to his men and commanded haughtily:
"Tie them up and search the house. Maybe Weasley and Potter are hiding somewhere in this chicken coop. Dolohov said they were wounded and couldn't have gone far.
Black ribbons flew towards Lovegood and Black, and the bound and unarmed Xenophilius immediately fell to the ground, looking like a puppet. However, the spell did not reach Cassius, melting powerlessly in the air.
Black, without taking out his wand, waved his hand, and Parkinson, screeching piercingly with fear, broke away from the ground and hung in the air in front of Cassius. Seeing such a clear display of powerful non-verbal magic, the young Death Eaters froze in place, afraid not so much of getting hit by their boss as of angering the unknown but very powerful wizard.
"Legilimens," Cassius said, not bothering to hide his actions from the others, and poked the pale fat man's forehead with his finger, quickly scanning his memories. Finally, throwing him back off the porch, Black rubbed his hands together with satisfaction. "There's our girl," the young man sighed contentedly to himself. In the memories of this nobody, there were several other Hogwarts students sitting in the dungeons of the menorah.
"Gentlemen!" Cassius smiled at those present, and at his anticipatory look, the Devourers took a few steps back, moving away from their leader, who was still lying on the ground. "You go back to the barracks, and Mr Parkinson, my old friend, and I will search this house ourselves," he nodded to Lovegood, from whom he had already managed to remove the ropes.
"Well?" Cassius pressed the crowd of wizards with dark magic, causing them to turn pale. "Don't wait for him. My friend Parkinson," he lifted the wizard into the air, "will return to the manor himself."
There were alarming claps of apparition, and the ordinary Devourers decided not to tempt fate. So, many of their comrades had died yesterday near this village. None of the fat man's accompanying fighters wanted to die.
Dragging the Devourer into the house, Cassius sat him down on a kitchen chair and said harshly:
"Today, you will release all the Hogwarts students without informing your master, and send them back to school. Have you forgotten the commandments of the founders? Hogwarts students are not at war, unless they themselves get involved, of course.
Parkinson had already regained his composure somewhat and immediately began to yell at Cassius:
"My lord will skin you alive, you bastard! Don't you dare touch me. You'll become a criminal hunted by the entire Ministry. You're now outlaws," he said, looking contemptuously at Black. "Muggle-loving scum!"
Cassius scratched the back of his head in confusion, then shrugged and sighed heavily, looking at Parkinson:
"I understand your master. It's easy to become brutal when you're surrounded by such stupid subordinates. But since words don't get through to you, we'll resort to the method that works best for people like you — 'Crucio!'"
Parkinson immediately fell off his chair and began to scream. Lovegood cowered in the corner in terror, and Cassius, grimacing, cast "Silence" on the Devourer.
"I don't like these screams," he said confidentially to Xenophilius. "While our friend is gathering his wits, tell me, how do you know that symbol?" Cassius pulled out his wand and drew the sign of death with a fiery figure, "And Potter, stop hiding, take off your invisibility cloak."
Harry appeared at the top of the stairs, holding his wand in a trembling hand and watching in shock as Parkinson continued to writhe in a silent scream.
"Let him go!" Potter shouted, glaring at Cassius with hatred. "That's an unforgivable spell. It cripples the soul, Dumbledore said."
Black looked doubtfully at Parkinson and finally removed the spell. The wizard immediately curled up into a ball, whimpering softly.
"Are you ready to talk?" Cassius kicked Parkinson. "Or shall we continue?"
"I think so, Mr. Potter," Black turned to the pale teenager. "Our guest would hardly have stood up for you in front of Voldemort if you were in his place," he glanced at the lying Death Eater.
Cassius kicked the fat boy again, drawing his attention.
"Listen to me, Parkinson. You will convey my request to Voldemort: leave Hogwarts alone, do not attack the students. Slytherin, Gryffindor, the rest of the children... No reprisals at the school to blackmail the parents. Hogwarts must remain neutral territory, is that clear? And send back to school all the students you kidnapped, you bastards," Cassius looked disgustedly at the fat man who had defecated on himself. "And so that my order doesn't slip your mind as soon as I let you go," Cassius's eyes turned black for a moment. "My little Loa will help you."
A lump of darkness appeared on Black's hand, twisted slightly in his palm, then slid sharply towards Parkinson and into the nostrils of the Devourer, who tried to cover them with his hand. The man's eyes immediately burst, and bloody streaks ran down his face.
"Go home, Lord Parkinson," Cassius's kind smile sent a chill down the spine of all the mages in the room. "I'll be waiting for the children at school at the end of the day," Black cooed. "And believe me, Lord Parkinson, you won't like what happens to you if you disobey my order.
The Devourer merely nodded, glanced around with bloodshot eyes, and immediately ran out of the house. Only on his third attempt did he finally manage to apparate, and even then, Cassius would not have bet on it going smoothly.
Telling Potter to get out of there, Cassius summoned Kreacher and asked him to bring them some nice calming tea with Mr. Lovegood. A few minutes later, the house-elf returned with a tray holding two large mugs steaming with the delicious aroma of mint and lemon balm, and a pretty plate of small crispy biscuits. Promising Lovegood that his daughter would return to Hogwarts that very day and would be sure to contact her father, Cassius calmed the publisher down a little and was finally able to learn the whole story about the Deathly Hallows from him. Deciding that he wasn't interested in chasing after all the pieces of this puzzle, Black began to get ready to leave. Xenophilius was delighted and saw him to the door, asking him to come back if Cassius ever needed anything. The young wizard had long since apparated, and Lovegood sat on the steps in the cold autumn wind and prayed to Merlin that his daughter would send an owl soon.
========== Part 57. Snape's appointment and unexpected betrayal ==========
The next day, Cassius, well rested, went straight to his parents' house in the morning. He tried to visit Malfoy Manor more often, knowing that his visits always made Narcissa happy. The woman was preparing to become a mother for the third time and was therefore very nervous. Of course, the curse had weakened considerably in recent years, but the risk of giving birth to a Squib was very high, not to mention the fact that the witch herself might not survive the birth. After all, it was not for nothing that wizards had few children, even though their life expectancy was several times higher than that of Muggles.
Patting the house spirit on the head, who had taken his cloak in the hallway, Cassius headed for the living room, where Narcissa and Lucius liked to spend their time. Finding no one there, Black moved on, and only when he reached the path leading to the lake did he hear his mother's ringing laughter. As it turned out, Lucius had decided to learn how to fish, but alas...
Based on an article in a magazine, he had transformed his fishing tackle, prepared himself thoroughly, and set off for the lake, hoping to catch one of the golden carp. He persuaded his mother to go with him so that Narcissa could share her husband's triumph. The mermaids and the Water Sprite watched the Malfoy senior's new hobby with suspicion, but were afraid to swim closer, preferring to offer advice from a distance, each more absurd than the last.
It ended with Lucius slipping and falling into the lake after casting his line, which made Narcissa laugh out loud. Climbing out onto the pier, Lord Malfoy, without losing his dignity, solemnly dried himself with a spell, restoring his respectable appearance, but his wife continued to giggle at the novice fisherman for a long time. This moment of great embarrassment for the illustrious lord was overheard by Cassius as he made his way along the path to the gazebo.
Seeing their son, the Malfoys rejoiced and, after the obligatory heartfelt embraces and inquiries about his health and affairs, sat down at a table in the gazebo to hear all the details. The helpful house elf immediately brought tea and biscuits.
The son told them all the news, including that he was now obliged to protect Hogwarts students if they were in danger at school and had the right to appoint the headmaster.
"You're the father, don't you want to take this honourable position?" Cassius asked slyly. "You'll spend all day throwing Stung at the portrait of the great light and mistreating the old cat."
"Thanks, but I don't think that's what I want to do for the next few years," Lucius smiled, gazing tenderly at his wife. "When you have a sister, we'll spend the first few years taking care of her. It's so wonderful to feel like young parents again!"
"When you have helpful house elves and a good wife," Narcissa said sarcastically. "You never spent much time with the kids. Always working, dealing with your vassals, the Ministry.
"Oh, come on," Lucius said, embarrassed. "When Bellatrix is born," he gently stroked his wife's prominent belly, "you'll see how I've changed!"
Narcissa just snorted, not believing Lucius for a second.
The eldest son watched his parents' playful banter with pleasure, not forgetting about the tea and biscuits.
"Who should we appoint as headmaster then? Do you have a suitable candidate, Dad?" Cassius looked at his father. Then, unable to resist, he took a few more biscuits and threw them into the lake to cheer up the carp, which had been nervous all day.
"I've known Snape for a long time," Lucius mused. "He's been a slave all his life. First to Lord Voldemort, then to Dumbledore. But despite all his problems, he managed to retain some inner dignity and decency. Of course, he still has old debts and obligations hanging over him, but if he were to be removed from the mark, I think he would look more than appropriate as headmaster of Hogwarts. After taking the appropriate oaths to our family, of course.
"My potions teacher held him up as an example to the younger students," Cassius smiled nostalgically. "Izem Khune always said that Snape was incredibly talented and capable of advancing science.
"Let him advance it as headmaster of Hogwarts," Narcissa smiled. "I remember how he brewed excellent potions for us that helped me cope with morning sickness during my first pregnancy. I still remember him with gratitude.
"Well, if you think so, Mum," Cassius smiled at Narcissa. "Then Father and I should visit Mr. Snape to offer him this undemanding position," Black grinned mischievously. "We'll sort out the mark and his other obligations at the same time.
"That will be interesting," Lucius grinned. "He's convinced I'm dead. We'll have to take a picture of his face and save it for when we're old. It'll be something to laugh about."
After chatting a little more, Cassius stayed with his parents for lunch, and afterwards, he and his father apparated to Hogsmeade. Lucius had already put on the guise of an ordinary wizard so as not to alarm the public.
At the castle gates, they met Filch, who was on duty, and Cassius greeted him and asked where Headmaster Snape was. The bitter old man had great respect for Black, fondly remembering the time when Cassius had organised the Christmas ball. That evening, the old man had been given a whole case of excellent firewhisky, and since then Filch had looked at Black with gratitude.
"Where else would he be?" squeaked the caretaker, stroking Mrs Norris, who was sitting on his lap. "He's in his dungeon. Dumbledore's office, the ground beneath it is mandrake, and it's locked. He didn't even hand over his position properly. Armando Dippet did everything fifty years ago, but he passed away just when you were entering Hogwarts.After thanking Filch, who was grumbling about the old days, they headed for the dungeon. Most of the Slytherins were still at lunch, so they hardly met anyone on the way. Approaching the potions master's office, Cassius knocked politely, but the door was locked.
"Let's go to the Slytherin common room and ask someone to call Draco," Lucius decided after a moment's thought. "Severus may still be at lunch, but at least we'll get to see his son.
They continued down the corridor, and Cassius stopped a Slytherin who was running out of the faculty common room and asked him to call Draco Malfoy. The boy didn't ask any questions and immediately dived back into the passageway, and a couple of minutes later the younger Malfoy appeared. Seeing his older brother with a stranger, he greeted them politely and asked coldly why they had decided to visit him. The Malfoy trait was so evident in the younger boy that Cassius looked at his father and chuckled. Stunned by such lack of restraint, Draco glared reproachfully at Cassius, pointing with his eyes at the stranger standing next to him. There was no one else around, so Black cast a spell to prevent eavesdropping and revealed Lucius's identity. Draco immediately smiled and suggested they go into one of the abandoned classrooms to talk properly.
Closing the door with "Kolo-portus," Cassius smiled as he watched his brother happily embrace his father. The boy had already caught up with Lucius in height, and now they looked more alike than ever. Not in appearance, which concealed the older Malfoy, but in their mannerisms, gait, and behaviour.
"I'm glad to see you, but I don't think you came just to visit me," Draco said seriously.
"We came to see your godfather, brother," Cassius shrugged, "but he wasn't there.
"Well, the headmaster is in his office now," Draco casted "Tempus" to check the schedule. "I still have Charms, I have to run," he said regretfully to his relatives. "Professor Snape will definitely be there. He usually has a break for administrative work at this time."
Knocking again, they received an irritated invitation to enter and immediately took advantage of it. Snape, as usual, was sitting at his desk, only now instead of homework, there was a pile of administrative documents spread out in front of him.
"Hello, Lord Black," Severus stood up and came to meet him. "Who is the gentleman with you?
At that moment, Lucius removed his disguise and stared at Snape's astonished face for about a minute.
"How's life, Severus?" Lord Malfoy said mockingly, extending his hand. "You must have believed the rumours about my untimely demise?"
"I heard it from Lord Malfoy himself!" Snape snapped. "How could I not believe it? Those who were with him in France confirmed it."
"Voldemort is merely a stepping stone on the path to the greatness of the Malfoy family," Lucius said haughtily. "That half-blood will pay for trying to kill me.
Snape's pale face stretched in surprise.
"Do you understand, Lucius, that as soon as the lord summons me, I will be forced to tell him that I saw you alive? You speak so insolently of the master... I don't know what to think," Snape nervously adjusted his robe, as if it were suffocating him. "And what does Lord Black have to do with this?
"We are allies," Cassius smiled. "And we would like to invite you to join us.
Black explained to the astonished potions master that he was the heir of the founders by magic and could help him become the real headmaster of Hogwarts.
"That won't change anything," Snape glanced at his left hand. "I'll still have to obey the Dark Lord's orders.
"We can help you with that too," Malfoy smiled slyly.
"And what in return? Swap one master for another?" Snape spat bitterly. "I already made that mistake in my youth."
"No masters," Black shook his head. "Just a simple magical contract of friendship and partnership between our families and you, Mr. Snape.
"What awaits you with the Lord, Severus?" Malfoy looked intently at his old acquaintance. "Only eternal slavery or death. We are offering you a future worthy of your talent. I am sure you can restore Hogwarts to its former glory."
Snape thought hard, while Cassius looked around, trying to figure out what potions were brewing in several cauldrons that were quietly bubbling at the other end of the office. Lucius just waited for the stubborn potion maker to finally realise that such an opportunity only comes once in a lifetime. Remembering the conversation at home, he grinned and delivered his final argument:
"In your new office, you'll find a living portrait of Dumbledore, and you can spend entire evenings honing your wit on it.
"I'd rather squeeze out the poison," Cassius grinned to himself, trying not to let his emotions show on his face.
Snape smiled crookedly, then agreed, as if throwing off a whole Hogwarts Express of doubts.
"What do you require of me, gentlemen?
"Extend your hand, Mr. Snape," Cassius ordered. "Let's begin with a demonstration of my abilities.
Black pulled out his wand, which Severus immediately stared at incredulously. He waved it and hissed in Parseltongue, at which the potions master turned as white as chalk. Then came the pain, so intense that he wanted to bite his hand off. Lucius watched the magic with curiosity, observing how, in a dance of green sparks, the mark began to stretch and gradually separate from Snape's forearm.
Severus himself did not scream at that moment only because he immediately tried to immerse himself in deep meditation so as not to feel the signals sent by his body and the magical source. It felt as if something that had long become familiar, an important part of his body and magic, part of his essence, was being torn out of him. At the same time, he felt the source begin to slowly come to life and fill with new energy. He felt a stronger connection to Hogwarts, which had supported him all this time, preventing him from sliding into madness and becoming as fanatical as the other Death Eaters. Of course, Dumbledore had made him a slave, but at the same time, the headmaster had saved him from a much worse fate. Snape, with an indescribable expression on his face, looked at his completely clean forearm.
"That was very revealing, Lord Black," Snape exhaled, leaning back in his chair and trying to wipe the sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand. "Your abilities are impressive. As I understand it, Lucius, you and your vassals have also taken advantage of this power?" The potions master smiled faintly.
The aristocrat only smiled slyly and shrugged.
"The Malfoy family, as you know, Severus, always acts in its own best interests first and foremost.
Snape nodded thoughtfully, gradually coming to his senses, feeling an extraordinary surge of strength from Hogwarts and a kind of inner liberation.
"What next, gentlemen?" The potion maker grinned crookedly, glancing at his companions.
"Let's go to your new office, Headmaster Snape," Cassius said, standing up. "I think everything is ready there now. I have already announced you as the new headmaster to Hogwarts. I think you must have felt the magic of the old castle.
Snape nodded and slowly rose, lost in his thoughts, realising where the feeling of Hogwarts magic had come from. Lucius tugged insistently at his sleeve.
"Let's go, Severus. I can't wait to see the face of the great light," Malfoy's eyes flashed maliciously. "I hope you realise you don't have to obey his portrait?"
Snape snorted proudly, shook his head, and quickly made his way upstairs, pulling his guests behind him. Approaching the gargoyle, he gave it a mental command, and it immediately moved aside, revealing a spiral staircase. With trepidation, Severus climbed the steps, threw open the door, and found himself in his familiar office. He hesitated, but was pushed forward by the impatient Malfoy and, after a moment's hesitation, made his way to the headmaster's desk.
"Hello, descendant," came the surprised voice of Phineas Nigelus Black from the wall, who watched proudly as Cassius entered the office unhurriedly.
"Good day to you, sir," Black smiled. "Welcome to the friendly ranks of Hogwarts' new headmaster, Severus Tobias Snape.
The living portraits of the former headmasters murmured quietly, eagerly examining the current head of the school. Finally, a voice familiar to everyone present rang out from the wall:
"Severus, my boy, I am so glad to see you alive and well!
"Silence! Somnus!" Snape barked, snatching his wand, then glancing at Lucius. "Merlin, I've always wanted to do that..."
***
The cold dungeon of Parkinson Manor had seen many prisoners, especially since Voldemort had taken up residence there. However, now the master of the castle himself hung on the wall in front of the enraged wizard. What the devourer, who had been completely loyal to his master until now, had done was simply beyond the Dark Lord's comprehension.
"What Mordred, Parkinson?" Voldemort hissed viciously. "Why did you release all the prisoners? Where are Potter, Weasley and their mother? Crucio!"
The fat man began to twitch and bang his head against the wall, screaming at the top of his lungs. Holding the "Pritch" for a minute, Voldemort pointed his wand at Parkinson's head and hissed, "Legilimens." The last events flashed before his eyes, and the wizard impatiently pushed them aside, causing Parkinson to groan.
Then he found the part of the memory where Black had cast a strange family illusion on his loyal follower. The enchanted Parkinson saw a dark entity that had supposedly entered his head, and Voldemort could see nothing else. From that moment on, the fat man's memory was completely gone. It had not been erased; an experienced Legiliment would have immediately noticed the familiar effect. No, it seemed as if Parkinson had fallen asleep and only woke up when he approached the Dark Lord in the dining hall and, without showing his usual respect, uttered the words Black had ordered him to say. And he did it in such a tone that Voldemort only by a miracle did not "avada kea" the scoundrel, but merely cast Cruciatus under the gaze of the astonished devourers, after which he ordered him to be taken to the torture chamber.
Only now did he decide to "punish" this scoundrel. The main thing that Voldemort noticed in Parkinson's memory was Black's wand. The very one he was looking for in Bulgaria, for information about which he killed Grindelwald.
Dumbledore's concentrator, taken by the Dark Lord from the tomb of the great light, did not resemble the legendary Elder Wand at all. But in the hands of this brat, whom Voldemort had long since forgotten, was that very concentrator.
"I'll destroy it," dark magic swirled around the room. "You decided to give me conditions, you stupid puppy. If only Dumbledore hadn't interfered back then..." He banged on the wall. "They'll all die, all of them! Potter, Black, whoever else is there, dare to oppose my power. But Parkinson can live for now," the devourer moaned at his master's feet. "Forgive me, my dear," Voldemort stroked the huge snake affectionately. "You won't get that mouse yet, I still need it.
Rising and leaving Parkinson in the dungeon, the Dark Lord entered his study, nodding to Rukwood, who was standing near the door, to come in.
"How do you intend to please me, Augustus?" hissed Voldemort, sinking into his chair.
"An owl has arrived from Gringotts, requesting that you receive their representative for negotiations on a matter of importance to you, my lord," Rukwood bowed.
"I will receive him," said the wizard, interested. "Send the owl immediately."
An hour later, Augustus knocked cautiously on the door and, receiving permission, reported that the representative of Gringotts Bank had arrived at the manor.
"Let him in," Voldemort permitted. "Let's see what these insolent little men have to offer me.
The messenger from the bank entered the office and, left alone with the Dark Lord, removed the hood from his head.
"Hello, Professor Flitwick," hissed Voldemort in surprise.
"Good day," squeaked Filius. "I am here to offer a deal that will be of interest to you and the goblin people.
The Dark Lord nodded silently, indicating that he would continue.
"It so happens," squeaked the half-goblin, "that after the death of the Lestranges, the famous Penelope Hufflepuff cup, which is your Horcrux, fell into our hands, man. Flitwick's small eyes flashed predatorily.
Voldemort glared at the little professor and hissed coldly:
"What do you want for this cup, Flitwick?
"The goblin people are waiting for you to return one of our relics. It is a sword that was made for the human wizard Ragnuk the First," squeaked the half-goblin. "According to the agreement, all goblin-made items must be returned after the death of their owner.
"At the time, I was unable to obtain it," Voldemort hissed thoughtfully.
"I know a wizard who may be a dark mage, but he studied at Gryffindor," Flitwick said, looking at him. "His name is Cassius Black. I think you can order him to give us the sword.
"That brat?" Voldemort hissed furiously. "He will be tortured and killed when I catch him. Both times we met, he managed to escape. The first time, I underestimated the scoundrel, and during our second encounter, Dumbledore allowed Black to feign death and hide from my wrath.
"Before you kill him, we can make an exchange, can't we?" the half-goblin smiled slyly. "I'm sure the Imperius Curse will make him want to do it of his own free will."
"A-ha-ha," an icy laugh filled the room. "I think we have a deal, Professor.
***
Throwing a cloak over his head, Cassius left the Gorbyn and Burks shop. Some Irish gangsters had decided to rob the old man's shop and brazenly ordered him to contact his owners. The clan's vassals had sent their children to Hogwarts, while they and their wives were still enjoying Lucky Bay beach, comfortably settled in an excellent boarding house for wizards on the outskirts of Cape Le Grand National Park. Cassius had to go to Lyutny at his father's request. Quickly dealing with the slow-witted bandits, Black respectfully said goodbye to Gorbyn and now walked leisurely towards Diagon Alley. Suddenly, his attention was drawn to the sounds of a magical battle coming from another dark corner. Not wanting to show any inappropriate curiosity, Cassius simply walked on, but at that moment, a pink-haired girl flew out of the darkness, holding a Protego in front of her. Catching the unexpected flyer by the waist, Black immediately put her on the ground, whereupon she, without even paying attention to him, immediately rushed back. Shrugging his shoulders, Cassius continued on his way, when a few minutes later he heard the pink-haired girl's voice behind him.
"Wait, sir!" The girl caught her breath and stopped next to the young man. "Thank you for catching me... Phew... I'm Auror Tonks, my colleagues and I are hunting smugglers, but the two who got away from me were too quick. Thanks again, or else I'm afraid my back would have made friends with the pavement of Lyutny," she said, catching her breath and looking questioningly at Black. "What's your name?"
"I'm Cassius," the boy smiled. "My father asked me to stop by Gorbyn and Burks to see if I could find anything for his collection of strange clowns. Here, for example," he took tiny stone figures that looked like Irish people out of his pocket, their faces contorted in mortal terror.
"Ugh," the girl wrinkled her nose. "How ugly. Who would want to go to such lengths with the details?"
"Some people look for porcelain teapots at flea markets, and my dad collects red-haired clowns," Cassius said with a grin. "Maybe he liked stories about Joseph Grimaldi when he was a child.
"That's for Muggles, isn't it?" the girl asked in surprise. "You look like a pure-blood wizard, Cassius. It's strange that your father was interested in Muggle culture."
"I have nothing against Muggles," Cassius shrugged. "I often played in Muggle streets as a child and socialised with ordinary children. We had a lot of fun, and it's nice to remember now.
They left Lutnaya and walked slowly towards The Leaky Cauldron. Tonks told Cassius funny stories from her Auror training, and the boy nodded politely and laughed at the right moments. The conversation drifted into the bar, and now Black was sitting at a table with his new acquaintance.
"How's Auror work under this government?" Cassius asked curiously.
Tonks sighed sadly and looked away. Her hair slowly turned from pink to purple.
"What can ordinary Aurors do?" she wrinkled her nose. "The head of the department made a deal with the minister," the girl sneered. "We catch petty crooks and don't get involved in politics, and the Death Eaters don't terrorise ordinary citizens. But rumour has it," she frowned discontentedly, "that the Ministry has set up a commission to register 'Muggle-born degenerates', where they check the origin and purity of wizards. All Muggle-borns are going to be stripped of their wands, and those who resist will be sent to Azkaban. The atmosphere at the Ministry is very tense right now," Tonks sighed.
She twirled a glass of firewhisky in her hand, forced a smile, and asked,
"I still don't know what family my saviour comes from?
"As I said," the young man smiled politely, "my name is Cassius. Cassius Black, at your service, Miss Tonks.
The girl jumped up from the table as if scalded, knocking over her glass, and stumbled back, almost tripping.
"Black?" she hissed in amazement. "Are you related to my mother from that family of pure-blooded bastards who threw her out?
"I was raised in another country," Cassius shrugged. "It's hard for me to understand your British quirks. I've never met your mother, but I do think we're related, you and I. You're too impulsive. My teacher spent a long time trying to knock that out of me, saying it was 'unworthy of a true wizard'. Cassius leaned forward without standing up and picked up the fallen glass.
"I'm sorry... Then maybe you'd like to come visit us?" Tonks collapsed back into her chair. "I don't know any of our relatives, and at Hogwarts they said we're related to many purebloods, even the Malfoys. My mother and father always try to avoid the subject. My father is a simple Muggle-born, and my mother was disowned by the Black family. She doesn't like to talk about it," sighed the girl, returning her hair to its pink colour. "But maybe if she gets to know you, another relative from another country, she'll change her attitude? Especially since you're tolerant of Muggle-borns.
"All right," Cassius shrugged. "It'll be interesting to meet your parents. Send an owl when it's convenient for you..."
Tonks had already run off to the Muggle side, and Cassius sat for a while, thinking, "Maybe I can reconcile my mother and Aunt Andromeda?" His mother often remembered her last surviving sister, with whom she had not spoken since the moment she was banished from the family. She really wanted to see her again, but Andromeda, stubborn and unyielding like all Blackes, did not respond to any of her letters or requests to meet. "I'll make my mother happy tomorrow," Cassius thought to himself.
***
The old healer of the Malfoy family sadly lowered his wand, unwinding a large complex of diagnostic spells. Narcissa and Lucius looked anxiously at the dissatisfied wizard.
"I don't have very good news," sighed the wizard. "The foetus is developing beautifully, physically there are no abnormalities. But magically, things are not so great," the old man gratefully accepted a glass of water from the house elf. "Your daughter's gift is dormant, and if the curse is not completely removed before she turns eleven, the girl will remain a squib forever.
Narcissa looked at Lucius in horror, and the man clenched his fists nervously.
"We'll figure this out, my dear, I promise," Malfoy croaked hoarsely.
"Then allow me to leave your home, gentlemen," bowed the healer. "The main thing is to get there before she enters Hogwarts.
After seeing the old man out, Narcissa looked at her husband demandingly:
"I've been telling you for a long time, Lucius," the woman's eyes flashed with rage. "Kill them all!"