Are there graves piling up at school? That's the trouble!
There are only horror stories in my life — yes, yes, yes.
But death has its forks.,
Let her look with a grin.,
Play a staring game with her, make a deal...
It's hard to live at Hogwarts sometimes.
Yes!
***
After Halloween, the whole school seemed to be hiding, waiting for new incidents. Theories and assumptions about what happened at the end of October kept slipping through the students.
Some students, and I was one of them, believed that Dumbledore's words about the traitor were not related to the Halloween test, but were part of the annual idea of the headmaster. We assumed that this time Dumbledore had done an unprecedented thing — he had involved not one or two students, not one course, or even a faculty, but a whole fucking school in his sadistic games.
It was similar to something like an intellectual game from my previous life, in which respectable players jointly search for a villain in their ranks, which in turn gradually gets rid of them. Apparently, there was an underage maniac at Hogwarts and he had to be found among hundreds of innocent students before new victims appeared.
However, not everyone shared such a pessimistic point of view on this matter. Most of the students preferred to write off the death of two students as an accident, an evil fate, or attribute this event to the ruthlessness of Halloween. Which is over, which means there's nothing to worry about now. It helped them not to go crazy, shying away from every shadow in the castle, but I personally was not so annoyed by such connivance.
Instead of consolidation, instead of a plan of action or, at the very least, basic security measures, the lion's share of Hogwarts students hid their heads in the sand with the illusory hope that any danger would definitely avoid them.
Naive. They seemed to have forgotten where exactly they study.
But sometimes I wanted to follow their example. After all, that's exactly what a good half of my classmates did last year when they had to take part in the trials. And there were no consequences for them in the end!
I could ignore Dumbledore's words and what was happening at school in general. Instead, focus all your attention on studying, practicing spells, and strengthening relationships with both classmates and older students. It was so tempting...
But then I remembered one important thing.
Among those students who were already thinking about the identity of the traitor, making guesses and conducting their first exploratory investigations, I had a huge and undeniable advantage in knowledge.
First, I came across Tom Riddle's diary. With a dark artifact that can bend the student's will. With a personality in him that, for reasons unknown to me, can without any scruple follow the path of a murderer.
Secondly, I know all the events of my sophomore year in a brighter version of this world. And let them follow the worst-case scenario here, and Hogwarts School has become much more of a survival playground instead of a school, but the devil, as they say, lies in the details.
The details clearly indicated that even such a strong alternative reality of Potteriana had not completely erased some common points and similarities.
In the first year, it was a three-headed dog guarding the hatch, a test strip on the way to the artifact, familiar students and the same professors, albeit with a completely perverted character and teaching methods. Before the second one, I met Lockhart, albeit in a completely different role, and already at school I met my first brownie and ran into a dueling club. Yes, even the terrible things on Halloween, which were made a legitimate tradition here, repeated the thesis familiar to me, when it was on this day that some dangers began or the main events of the school year began.
There were also missing details of the mosaic: I hadn't seen Norbert's dragon, although theoretically it could have hatched here, I hadn't met a troll in my freshman year, and, thank all the gods, I still hadn't gotten to know the secret room and the basilisk crouching there, which I feared to the point of trembling in my knees. Although, if the diary is still relevant here, then the last point has never been excluded from the likelihood of further events in the castle.
But all this only convinced me even more that this world, though different, was still somewhat similar to the original I knew.
I thought about it carefully and came to the conclusion that most likely the traitor is the owner of the diary, which I then gave to McGonagall. And I remember perfectly well that in another reality he belonged to Ginny Weasley, who, under his control, did things similar to the actions of a traitor. Even if she was wielding a basilisk, and not with her own hands, which were used to strangle a first-year Slytherin here.
And since I'm the only one with such guesses and clues, I'm going to look for this very killer. Otherwise, I'll have to spend the whole year living in a castle with someone who can kill me and my friends at any moment.
But I had to be very careful. For everyone else, there's no way I can know who exactly that diary is. And one's guesses about the identity of the traitor must be wrapped up in a logical chain, and not guided only by knowledge of an alternative plot. Otherwise, I'll fall asleep, and then it will be impossible to predict my future fate.
***
After our regular classes, we stumbled into our bedroom, taking Hermione with us. Neville came in with us, put away his bag of textbooks and immediately ran off to his club, so this place was perfect for a private conversation, which was rare at Hogwarts.
"I need to talk to you." It's about the killer," I said, instantly piquing the guys' interest.
"Do you know who that is?" Ron said, wide—eyed and surprised.
— No, I don't know. But something happened to me about a month ago and I think it might be related.
"We're all ears, Kyle. Seamus leaned on the bedside table and looked at me expectantly.
— Do you remember how I missed lunch? Anyway, that's when I went up to the bedroom and found the diary here... — I told the guys the story of my acquaintance with the horcrux, while omitting all the details and facts that Kyle Golden had nowhere to find out about.
— So this artifact was trying to take over your mind? Wow! Harry said worriedly. "Why didn't you tell us?"
—Sorry, guys. I was worried about your safety. You never know, maybe it's some kind of secret and it's dangerous to know about the diary - in fact, at that moment I still hadn't figured out what exactly to tell about Tom Riddle, so as not to put myself at risk. That's why I didn't say anything. "But after Halloween."..
"You think that the student-killer took possession of the diary,— Hermione said affirmatively, guessing the course of my thoughts the very first.
— To the point. Judge for yourself: which of the students is capable of voluntarily starting to kill the rest?
"Greengrass?" — Oh, no, — the boy immediately changed his mind, — even she doesn't get dirty on her hands.
—Exactly. So I'm pretty sure there was some influence on the traitorous student. And it's quite possible that the same diary is involved here, which does exactly that — it affects a person," I explained my theory to my friends.
—So Dumbledore or one of the teachers slipped the diary to you," Hermione began to reason, "you coped with the influence of the dark magic artifact and got rid of it, after which the diary was given to someone else... But how do you know who it is?
And I already had an idea about that. Since Ginny Weasley had a diary in another universe, and her victims were the enemies of a girl obsessed with Harry Potter, at least the motives for the murders here may be the same.
All I had to do was explain it to the guys in a way that made the theory sound convincing and without compromising my identity.
— I don't think that a murderer is ordered to take the life of a particular student. It's a test for everyone, right? This means that every student is at risk. It's quite possible that a student drugged by charms will kill those he treats badly," I shrugged, watching the reaction of the guys.
Harry crossed his arms and thought about it. — But in this case, who needs the death of a freshman? Nobody really knows him yet. There's a problem with your theory, Kyle.
"Maybe you're right. But everything will come together if all the students are included in the lists of suspects. In general, everyone," I hinted to my friends.
— You think that... Hermione even stood up from her seat. "It can't be!" A freshman killer? They're very small!
"Only a year younger than us, Hermy. And don't forget that if possessed, even an eleven-year-old child can kill an adult wizard. And here it's just another freshman.
"I don't know, Kyle,— Seamus said doubtfully... Is it too far-fetched? Are you sure about your assumptions?
— Well, think about it yourself. First-year students communicate only with each other. If anyone has a motive, even the tiniest one, inflated by the influence of an artifact, it's theirs.
— But all the senior courses suspect each other... Blair was saying at the club meeting just yesterday that it was probably one of the fanatics. And Goodwin claimed to be a researcher. And from your words it turns out that... Seamus drawled.
"That they're wrong?" Yes, I think so," I replied to my friend.
"And how do we find the suspect?" Harry asked. — We can't even talk to the freshmen, let alone ask them about their relationship during the course.
"That's the main problem, Harry. But there is still one solution. We can use the robe," I nodded towards the boy's suitcase, where our precious thing was kept, "we will take turns taking it and following the first year after classes. Eavesdrop on conversations, notice the moods on the course and accompany them wherever we can. While the senior courses will be busy searching among their own, we will look elsewhere. In a place where no one but us will either look or won't be able to. It certainly won't make things worse for anyone, and if successful, we'll save someone's life.
The guys exchanged glances with each other, weighing my offer.
— Do you think that the traitor will not be limited to Halloween? Do you think he's going to keep killing? Harry asked, startled.
Even some of my friends still believed that there would be no new victims. But I knew in my gut that this was not the case.
"I'm sure of it. Dumbledore doesn't waste words. He said to find it, which means that in case of failure, we must wait for trouble.
"This.".. It might work," Hermione replied thoughtfully. — We need to set up a duty schedule, and one of us will have to skip breakfasts, lunches and dinners while doing surveillance... And where do first-year students generally spend their time? They don't have rented space like we did.
— In different ways. Someone does their homework in the Great Hall, and someone immediately leaves for the living rooms after class. Some people go to Hogwarts, and a couple of Ravenclaw kids have already figured out about the scores and are studying in the library — Parvati told me yesterday, and Padma told her. But that's all the specifics. Let's figure out the most important thing: is everyone willing to try? I looked at Seamus, Ron, Harry, and Hermione in turn, waiting for an answer.
Of course, they agreed. Even if this test didn't directly affect us, as it did last year, even twelve-year-olds understood the importance of catching someone who could easily one day ambush you in the hallway and kill you. More cowardly guys would probably have refused. But there were none in our bedroom at the moment.
***
I declare responsibly that the invisibility cloak is the best magical artifact that can be thought of for our investigation. It is silent, with good visibility, lightweight and very high-quality thing.
My friends and I worked out a duty schedule in which we took turns following freshmen literally on their heels. Since the students went about their business after class, Hermione had to make a list of the names of the first year and work through each student individually, isolating from their pastimes, conversations and behavior any oddities that we could only notice.
We started with Gryffindor, as we had free access to the living room. After much discussion, a difficult decision was made to even enter the bedroom after another suspect.
The controversial side was by no means the moral side of the issue — children of our age had not yet had such complexes, and in such cases everyone was watching their gender, which made Hermione noticeably more work.
The risks—it was all about them.
If the first-year students find us in their bedroom and tell the teacher, then we will definitely not be punished, since according to the rules we should not show any direct interest in the first year at all. And knowing the methods of professors' punishments, each of us would really like to avoid this.
But it soon became clear that many first-year students spend most of their time either in classes, where we are definitely off limits, or in their bedrooms, for lack of another quiet place to prepare for lessons. The living room was overwhelmingly occupied by those students who didn't like spending their free time in clubs, and the Great Hall was often too noisy.
So, at the risk of being punished, we decided to follow our goals to victory. Moreover, it was in the bedroom that the first-year students loosened their tongues enough to learn at least something valuable.
Our first attempts revealed the life and everyday life of the students, showed their relationships on the course, identified potential leaders and outcasts among the students, and eliminated students with the potential of being incompetent or characterless. But none of the overheard information has led us to even a tiny clue about the identity of the killer.
Gavin Henderson was the name of the murdered Slytherin. If the Gryffindors had crossed paths with him, they certainly hadn't been friends with the boy. It became clear for sure: the deceased freshman was quite successful in his studies, did not stand out among his classmates in any negative way, and made friends with other snakes. It was completely unclear who killed him and for what, since the boy was not seen in any conflicts with other students.
When it became obvious that the cubs were useless, and Ginny Weasley was behaving quite normally and there was no diary in her bag, we switched to Slytherin. It immediately became more difficult, since the location of the living room and bedrooms was unfamiliar to us, and the danger of detection by freshmen was added to the exact same, but from senior students of the snake faculty.
Although the division in Hogwarts by clubs was much more noticeable than by faculty, but it also took place here. And if the Slytherins found out that Gryffindor sophomores were spying in their living room, this situation would not have ended well. At least for us.
Still, there were rare times when one of our gang of stalkers managed to get into the living room, and Ron once miraculously managed to get even to the boys' bedroom.
— Going out was the scariest thing. I thought, wow, the door will open and close. You never know what wonders you won't find at Hogwarts. Anyway, I sat with them for about an hour, and then I accidentally made a noise and took off, fortunately they didn't look for me," Ron shared his impressions immediately after he pulled off his risky adventure.
And again, nothing. Freshman snakes sometimes remembered their neighbor, to some extent even mourned him, but attributed his death to Halloween and that malicious brownie. It is clear that no one told them about the killer, and the children either did not want to guess on their own or could not.
November had almost passed and winter was already approaching. There may have been no progress in our investigation, but at least we kept a list of those freshmen who were definitely excluded from the suspects for one reason or another.
Surveillance has become part of our routine. Hermione even kept a special notebook where she marked down all the information she had heard, all the stories and fears of the first-year students. In short, the girl got a taste for it.
No one complained about the lack of results, and so far we've managed to avoid getting caught up in our antics. Some students, especially from the dueling club, noticed the constant absence of someone from our company, but especially for this we thought out various legends, which we adhered to in case of questions or suspicions.
There was no new murder. I was already thinking that I shouldn't have screwed myself up so much. The students, who were sure of new inevitable deaths at the hands of a murderer, were already being ridiculed, considering them paranoid. A month of calm has noticeably relaxed the tense situation at school, but a lull, as you know, happens only before a storm.
And soon it happened.
***
— Everyone is free, do not forget to wash your hands thoroughly — the juice of our babies is contraindicated in food, — said Professor Sprout solicitously when the herbology lesson came to an end.
I was only half listening to her. Leaving my things as they were, Seamus would pack them up and take them with him, and I had to catch the freshmen at the exit of the dungeons where they were taking potions.
I was the first to rush out of the office, after which I put on an invisibility cloak in a deserted corner and set off on my way.
After all, being invisible is pretty cool. When even passing teachers don't notice your presence, you feel powerful and almost immortal. It's a bad feeling, but it's so pleasant...
I made it to my destination just as the freshmen were leaving for the main hall. Classes ended, so the houses began to disperse to their living rooms: the Slytherins, for example, did not leave the dungeon at all, and the Hufflepuffs rose from one part of it only to head to the other, opposite.
But my path now lay with the lions and crows to the upper floors. Moving invisibly up stairs-in-motion was generally a separate genre of acrobatic art. Not only could these stairs rebel at any moment, but I also had to constantly make sure that none of the passengers next to me accidentally bumped into the mantle, which would inevitably lead me to reveal myself without the possibility of escape.
I made sure that no one got separated from the bunch of freshmen. It is the one who, in theory, owns the diary, who is sure to disappear into the crowd at the moment of committing his crimes, after which he quietly retreats from it. I've been tracking down similar cases, even though they haven't happened yet.
Now, having worked with lions and snakes to the best of our ability, we have switched to ravens. Right now, the very first surveillance was underway, and I was supposed to sneak into the Ravenclaw living room for the first time.
I knew where the rising crows were heading, so I kept an eye on them from above, but I went up to the floor above a little earlier so as not to be discovered in the crowd. Everything was quiet and peaceful - no one separated from the main group until they finally reached the living room of their faculty.
A large door with a crow statuette on it greeted the freshmen with another logical question. While they were fidgeting and pondering the riddle, the older students approached, who listened impatiently to the question and answered it without any problems, without saying a word to the freshmen.
It looked rude, but in fact, the upperclassmen did not feel any neglect — they simply could not behave otherwise, because the rules. I didn't realize that before.
The students of the Faculty of smart people began to actively go inside, and I fell in behind. In the spacious living room, I can easily avoid accidental collisions, but I need to be extra careful and collected at the entrance.
—Hey, but this isn't your living room," said a girl behind me, who was looking directly at me.
I froze in fright, and the freshmen began to turn in my direction. Fortunately, they saw the girl herself through me, and I myself remained invisible until now.
—Look, the half—wit is talking to fictional friends again," another girl said, after which many of the freshmen giggled. — There's no one here, who are you talking to, crazy?
"But he's here!" Luna Lovegood insisted.
In response, the other Ravenclaw girls just twirled their finger at their temples and, gossiping about their unhealthy classmate, moved further into the living room.
When the pandemonium had dissipated and the passage was empty, I decided to move on and leave this trap as soon as possible.
"Here you go!" You exist, don't you? — Luna Lovegood approached me, but still did not dare to try to touch me.
How can she even see me?! Through the invisibility cloak! The real Gift of Death! And even without his crazy glasses!
"Say something." Or can't you?
I was really confused. I'm not supposed to talk to her! Damn, what am I doing...
"Don't notice me. I'm invisible," I whispered, hoping that the same answer would help me with the crazy girl.
— Ah, that's it! Luna smiled and covered her eyes with her hands. "That's it, I can't see you anymore.
Did it work? What a madhouse...
Deciding not to tease luck by the tail, I left the company of Luna Lovegood. At the same time, other upperclassmen approached the living room, who looked at the freshman with their hands over their eyes as if she were insane.
"Are you still here?" I can't see it!
And I could understand their feelings perfectly.
My heart was pounding like crazy, so I just walked along the upstairs hallway and calmed down a little.
I could calculate many probabilities of my own disclosure, but this could not have occurred to me...
Luna Lovegood... Still, there's something about this girl other than her usual oddities. A magical gift? Special vision? Who would have known.
Soon I met the gaze of three friends, who had already managed to get up and go into the living room to dump their bags with textbooks. I decided not to join them — I needed time to come to my senses.
While I was walking along the corridor and thinking about what had happened, some kind of panic began on the lower floors. Someone was running, someone was screaming, and a fifth-year friend from Gryffindor almost knocked me over while he was rushing into the living room at full speed with an expression on his face as if he had seen death itself.
The fourth floor was the very stumbling block that had aroused this sleeping hive of Hogwarts. McGonagall appeared and chased away the curious students, but thanks to the invisibility cloak, I managed to get in and see what happened with my own eyes.
A new body. Strangled in the hallway. Gryffindor. Third year. Cormac McLaggen.
Unfortunately, I was right. Dumbledore's traitor woke up and went back to work. But there was no Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, or murderer among the freshmen. At least I've found out that much for sure.
It remained to understand what the third-year student was able to annoy an unknown freshman from another faculty. Or is my theory wrong and the first course has nothing to do with it?..
***
— You have to put yourself in such a position, right before Christmas! Ron lamented as we headed to the hospital wing.
"You saw for yourself that it was an accident," said Hermione. "It's not Neville's fault that he's like this... Such...
"Clumsy?" Ron chuckled. — Haha, it's my fault. And now he's not going home, and he's going to spend the holidays at the castle with the killer.
"Take it easy, Ron," Seamus said, "the three of them are staying here, too."
— Oh, sorry guys, I wasn't thinking... Ron made a guilty face.
"And I keep telling you to think first and talk later," I slapped him on the shoulder. "Especially since the killer can go on vacation himself, and we'll be safe." Well, if he shows up during the holidays, then the circle of suspects will be reduced too much. There are only advantages all around.
— Yeah, if you count the new victim as a plus... Harry muttered.
— You know what I mean.
Hogwarts has been filled with panic, suspicion, and paranoia since the second murder. It's not surprising that many of us sometimes caught this negative vibe, but I did my best to keep the guys' morale up. In the end, we didn't really know either the Slytherin freshman or McLaggen, which was why the feelings weren't so strong.
— Look — what kind of pandemonium is this? Ron pointed into the distance.
"Did they all come to meet Neville after he was discharged?" Harry asked in surprise. "Even the Slytherins from our class are there, even though he can't stand them."
"I didn't think your eyesight would get so good with your glasses," I replied thoughtfully. "Yes, they definitely came to meet Neville," I looked around at almost the entire sophomore class, who were standing in groups right outside the hospital wing, "but not for friendly support, definitely. They're all wondering what happened to Neville after the fifth mark. And Ron was talking too loudly about his discharge date in the Great Hall.
— Hey, I didn't do it on purpose!
"You always do things by accident, buddy,— Seamus said mockingly.
A whole week ago, Neville ended up in the hospital wing for the fifth time with serious injuries. The combat magic under the supervision of the Parapet contributed greatly to this.
If last year we only tried to carefully pass the obstacle course, now we have added a timer. And the standards of the black teacher were very harsh.
So Neville hurried, which almost broke him to pieces — only the charms on the strip, and a true miracle saved the boy's life, after which he reached the room with Madam Pomfrey's healing talents in a deplorable state.
"It's not right to stand there and wait for Neville to come out and show himself to everyone,— Hermione shared. — He's already been hurt so much, and then there's the audience with ridicule and questions. Especially from them," she pointed with her hand at the three Slytherin fanatics: Crabbe, Goyle and Bletchley. — As they called him names before, they will do something like that now.
"Hermione's right, Kyle. Shall we help our neighbor? Seamus asked, "Nott and Malfoy won't get in, and the badgers and crows will back off if you push."
"Why not,— I shrugged. —Hey, sophomores! I shouted down the hall. — There won't be a show, let's go. Satisfy your curiosity when Longbottom shows up for class.
"Don't tell us what to do, Golden," Bletchley grinned, supported by his massive cronies.
"Do you want to check what happens if you don't follow my instructions?" Okay, — I went for a sharp rapprochement with my classmate's greyhound and ordered a right hook with all my might, hitting him right on the cheekbone. The blow came out so strong and unexpected that the boy fell to the floor and was completely lost in space.
"If I'm telling you to leave, Pike," I leaned over to the boy and spoke in a low voice, "then please follow the recommendations. Otherwise, we'll do it again.
Crabbe and Goyle didn't even dare to fight, as my friends immediately pointed their wands at them, so I could take such liberties.
Twelve-year-olds, especially bullies like Bletchley, are intimidated by unexpected brute force. And even more so are children who are used to solving any conflicts with magic. Moreover, witchcraft in the corridors is punishable, but punching is not prohibited by any Hogwarts rule, unless it eventually escalates into a fight. A funny incident, which I took advantage of.
The other sophomores, seeing my serious attitude, decided to leave the hallway without unnecessary reminders. Even Bletchley hadn't said a word, and he was still recovering. Crabbe and Goyle just took him out of my sight.
The only one left with us was Terry Booth, who was friends with Neville and was really worried about his well-being.
"Guys?" Neville opened the door of the hospital wing and went outside. "What are you doing here?"
—We're meeting you,— said Ron.
—Yeah," the boy nodded awkwardly, "thanks, Ron."
— Have you been given a fifth mark? — blurted out the red-haired boy, whom we immediately shamed with a look.
—Yes... to me.".. Professor Sprout came and did something with Madam Pomfrey. It doesn't hurt, and they said it was an important experiment that would make my life easier.
I'm interested:
— And what did they do, if it's not a secret?
"It's no secret,— Neville replied, but it was clear from the look in his eyes that he was shy. "You.".. Just don't laugh, okay?
—Come on, don't Tomy,— said Ron.
"Well, I don't know. See for yourself," Neville showed us his right hand, which he had been unobtrusively holding behind his back.
—Well, the hand looks normal," Hermione shared what she saw.
"Wait a minute. Right now," with these words, Neville's hand turned green, and stalks and foliage came out of his sleeve, immediately covering the boy's hand.
"You.".. Does it hurt, Nev? I asked, examining his hand. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that the limb had not turned green, but had literally turned into a tangle of vegetation.
—No," he waved his hand, the fingers of which fell apart with a wave, after which they came together again, "on the contrary, the sensations are pleasant. I was warned, however, that the flora could go beyond the elbow and entangle the entire arm, and then the body, but this will not happen soon.
— So you can turn your hand into plants? Is this Madam Pomfrey's punishment? Ron asked, looking at his alien hand and speculatively comparing their results.
"Not a punishment,— Neville shook his head, —the healer called it an upgrade." And I don't turn my hand. This is a disguise that hides vegetation and can be removed or resumed. And they also told me that now interacting with plants will be much easier, safer and better, can you imagine? And also, when using witchcraft with the right hand, some of the magic will settle on plants and give them strength, and they themselves can be used even in battle!
Neville Longbottom has become a vegetative cyborg killer. Hogwarts surprises me more and more.