In every little child:
Both the boy and the girl
Paranoia is rampant,
Fear is swirling in my head!
He must run, escape,
Find enemies and fight,
Otherwise, he will die.,
Neck: bang — in heaven!
***
After the second murder, there was no longer that condescending attitude towards their safety among the Hogwarts students. Now it was mandatory for students to walk in groups, not wander aimlessly through the corridors unless absolutely necessary, and keep their ears open and their chopsticks at the ready.
After almost two months of scouting in the freshman camp, I was forced to admit that either the obsessed student had mastered amazing conspiracy skills, or he somehow managed to detect and neutralize our surveillance like Luna Lovegood, or the wanted killer was not from the first year.
In any case, our idea turned out to be a failure.
Christmas was approaching. The mood was already bad, and the increasing conflicts and recriminations between students from different courses, faculties, and clubs were constantly adding fuel to the fire. Hogwarts began to rapidly turn into a cesspool of suspicion and distrust, exacerbating the already gloomy atmosphere of the castle.
In a short time, the vast majority of students were supposed to leave Hogwarts, having gone home. None of them wanted to spend two extra weeks in the castle, especially at a time like this.
But I was more optimistic in this regard. There won't be many students left at school, but the likelihood of another murder during the holidays should decrease just as much.
Firstly, because a mysterious student can statistically easily leave school on his own. Secondly, the circle of suspects will shrink too much otherwise, and the killer, I am sure, does not act thoughtlessly, but thinks over his actions and does not want to reveal himself at all. Whatever their motives or charms are.
So I was convinced that either a new victim would appear in the coming days, or the danger would linger until the next calendar year.
Based on this, our team of unsuccessful detectives found new strength and became more active, but now we did not focus on a particular student or course.
Having no leads or suspicions, it was decided to arrange patrols in the corridors under the same invisibility cloak.
In the current reality, any single student could turn out to be a potential murderer, since all other sane students moved around the castle as at least a couple. Well, the example of Cormac McLaggen showed that this very "traitor" acts at the moment when most of the students are moving around the castle to change locations.
Otherwise, with the help of a banal survey of other students, it would be possible to reduce the area of suspicion several times, since entire courses and clubs would be in the same room all together, being a genuine alibi for each other.
So we tracked down lonely students during recess, meals, and free hours after class.
The corridors of Hogwarts have already become like my own. Because of my constant adventures under the mantle, I could almost walk through the corridor of any floor with my eyes closed. Thanks to my good orientation in the castle, my patrols turned out to be fast, and the floors changed one after another during these walks.
On one of the last days in December, I was still making my rounds during my lunch break. The corridors were empty, but I did not lose my vigilance, checking all the corners of the castle I knew.
Suddenly, at the far end of the corridor, I saw the silhouette of two students appear. It was quite suspicious since most of the students were currently having lunch in the Great Hall. The remaining kids huddled in their living rooms, but the fifth floor was in no way a passageway to any of them.
I pressed myself against one of the walls and took a wand in my hand just in case. The silhouettes were getting closer. As luck would have it, the head of the unknown men was hidden by a deep hood, as if they did not want to be recognized. Judging by their height, they were clearly undergraduates...
Really, I found it! At least once I met suspicious people who had some kind of secret hidden behind their shoulders. You just need to keep an eye on them — wherever the secretive students are going to find out everything.
The two undergraduates were already very close, and both of them, without slowing down, were looking at some kind of parchment that they were holding in their hands.
— Petrificus Totalus! "one of them suddenly pointed his wand straight at me and cast a spell. It was only thanks to the reflexes developed in the Duel Club that I managed to jump back in time, after which the paralyzing beam powerlessly crashed against the wall.
"Where is he?"
— Look, he's gone to the left!
— Petrificus Totalus! — the second spell flew, but I just ducked and it flew over me.
—Weasley?" What are you doing?! I shouted when I saw the twin's face under the hood of one of the students. If I hadn't noticed him, the aggressors would have already been hit by retaliatory spells that could have been cast directly from under the mantle.
—Give up, Golden,— George said menacingly, while his twin peered at the map and guided his brother's hand. "We know you're the traitor.
"You're crazy!" I exclaimed in response to these accusations. "You've lost your head at your Quidditch game!" Harry told me about the cases of a bludger flying into your skulls, but I didn't think it was that bad!
"Then what are you doing here?" Also under Harry's robe, which he stole.
"Stole it?" Yes, Harry lets her use it himself — your brother, by the way, too! We patrol the school in it! To figure out the killer, you idiots! If you say the spell again, you'll get an answer, George. I'm warning you," I threatened Weasley.
This summer, they seemed invincible and omniscient to me. Now, when it comes to stick fighting, I don't have to lag too far behind them, and with a huge advantage due to my own invisibility, I have a chance to defeat the twins altogether.
— And how will you prove your words? George asked me, a little flustered. "What if we lower our wands and become new victims the next moment?"
— Yes, ask your brother! Or a fellow hunter! Here, I'm taking the first step as a sign of good intentions, damn you! I pulled off my invisibility cloak, but continued pointing my wand at the twins just in case.
"Okay, George, looks like we made a mistake,— Fred admitted.
"I'm sorry, but you're probably right," George said, somewhat upset. — Oh, and I already imagined how we caught a murderer on the eve of Christmas...
— More joy in your voice! I asked indignantly. — I actually lived under the same roof with you for a month, just for a second. And you seriously thought that I was the killer?!
I also put my wand away, acknowledging the banal misunderstanding that had arisen between us. But how the twins scared me by suddenly starting to fire spells at an invisible target!
"This is the second day you've been wandering around the castle alone. No offense, Kyle, but it's suspicious enough to make me doubt it," Fred shrugged.
"But somehow we didn't think that you could pursue the same goals as us,— George added. —The invisibility cloak, right?" A good thing for safe searches.
—The Marauder's Map is also quite useful in this regard,— I replied pleasantly. "That's how you found me, isn't it?"
— To the point. But how did you even manage to jump away from the spell? We didn't show it on purpose until the very last moment!
—Reaction," I chuckled smugly. — I was prepared for any events as soon as I noticed you in the distance. I allowed myself a touch of bluster. — No one should be here at this time. There aren't even any classes here after lunch—I checked.
—Ha, you're pretty well prepared. But if I met a murderer here, what would I do?
— It's enough for me to know his name or at least see his appearance. After that, I will safely leave and share this identity with the right people.
"With the duelists, huh?" Clever, Golden, clever. You're sorry for hitting us, you know," George spread his hands. — It turned out to be a mistake, it doesn't happen to anyone.
— I understand. No offense, guys. Aren't you afraid that the teachers will find out about witchcraft in the corridors?
"Between punishment for breaking the rules and death at the hands of a murderer, we'll choose the former," Fred said sullenly. "Well, if our prank wasn't noticed, then there's nothing to worry about,— he shrugged his shoulders.
— By the way, we suggest exchanging information. You've been searching for days, haven't you? Any suspicions, unusual conversations, anything at all? All we need to do is find out the name, and then the map will put everything in its place," George said, proudly pointing to the artifact where all the names of the students in the castle were moving right now.
—No, I'm naked yet,— I sighed. — Before that, we had an unobvious version. We thought the killer might be a freshman. But for all the time, no evidence of this theory has been found.
"A freshman?" Well, you're bent, of course. Although... It would be Dumbledore's style to pull such a stunt. I sincerely hope that's not the case," Fred replied to me. — Our sister studies there after all.
"We've already checked her out—it's definitely not her, don't worry," the brothers visibly exhaled after my words. — What about you? Any progress? Well, except for me, of course," I grinned.
"We try to look at the map as often as possible, but none of the students really stand out: they don't go alone, they don't look into suspicious places, they don't change routes," Fred told me.
"That's why I'm saying there's a conspiracy here!" George said with conviction.
"A conspiracy?" What are you talking about?
"You're at it again,— Fred sighed. — My brother has been listening to fictionalists since his senior year and now thinks that the Director's Club is to blame for everything.
— Well, how else! One student shouldn't be able to hide from everyone at once! The sixth and seventh courses dig the ground with their noses, and others are always on someone's radar. In the case of McLaggen, almost every student has a person they were with! I'm telling you, the student killer has people who provide him with cover, and he doesn't touch them in return. And no one is better suited for this than the damn fanatics," George shared his theory with conviction.
— By the way... Fred looked at me with interest. — But you, Kyle, can get into their club! And to find out if my brother is right, or if he's talking utter nonsense.
"The Director's Club?" I swallowed. "Isn't there some kind of intrusion protection or something?"
It was the fear of being discovered by some kind of protective charms that prevented me from entering other clubs under the guise of invisibility.
The twins waved their hands in unison. — clubs don't practice this, and why would they? Towler and Cox took their buddies there last year. Not during an official meeting, but just to hang out together. And there was no magic at all. There's a pre-Christmas club meeting right after class today. If you can get away from the duelists, then try to get into them.
If this was true, then it was impossible to miss such a tempting chance to get to know the ideology of the fanatics better and at the same time look for the killer in their midst.
— I'll think about your offer. And I'll see about the circumstances," I replied neutrally.
— yeah. Just tell me, if you find out anything valuable, share it with us, okay? Fred asked me.
— No problem.
"And if you can't or don't want to get in there, then give us the mantle after the holidays and we'll do it ourselves,— George said confidently.
— I'm sorry, guys, but the robe is the property of our course, namely Harry Potter. We do not give it for use.
—Come on, nothing's going to happen to her," the twins tried to push for the opportunity to use such a valuable thing.
— Do you lend your Marauder's Card to anyone? I asked in response to their entreaties.
"Look, brother. And Golden got us away. Well, then try to get into their lair yourself. There's no other way to get into this cult," George waved goodbye and he and Fred moved down the corridor.
***
Inspired and at the same time quite nervous, I spent the rest of the classes thinking about the upcoming infiltration of the Director's Club.
I told them about the meeting with the twins and outlined the situation to my friends. There were concerns, but for the most part, Harry, Ron, and Seamus supported my idea. Only Hermione was pretty worried about my safety, but it seemed to me that it was mostly the magic of the contract that spoke to her.
His good position in the Duel Club also played into his hands. I managed to arrange for the meeting to be skipped without telling Chairman Goodwin the reasons and details. At the very least, I was going to excuse myself by feeling unwell, but I didn't even have to do that.
Well, the guys had to try themselves and their strengths in a joint training battle without my participation, which should only benefit them. Even in case of defeat, they will gain the necessary experience, which was unavailable to friends in my presence because it was unnecessary.
And so, after the last class, I donned the invisibility cloak and followed Sophie, who was heading to her club in the company of three Slytherins: Crabbe, Goyle and Bletchley, whom I had punched in the face not so long ago.
These were the only sophomores who joined the fanatics. And Sophie could understand — according to the girl, she was not invited to any club, and the Muggle-born Ravenclaw was saved from being a "waif" by some fourth-year student who invited her to the Director's Club at the very last moment. But what the Slytherins had forgotten at the headmaster's club remained a mystery.
After all, their parents took part in the conflict twelve years ago on the side of Voldemort... I'll have to ask my undergraduates, maybe they'll enlighten me on this.
In general, the Director's Club was unique in its kind. All other clubs demanded a certain fee for their existence: the organization of an annual ball fell on the shoulders of a team of girls and girls, duelists organized a tournament, researchers participated in expeditions, scribes monitored the library and translated ancient texts, and artisans created magical artifacts.
Even the Quidditch players, who weren't really a club, were required to participate in the school championship, the first two matches of which had already passed and brought with them dozens of fractures, bruises and abrasions to the participants. The fact that none of the Quidditch players died was already considered a good result.
But only they themselves knew what price the fanatics were paying. But the members of the mysterious club were in no hurry to talk about it, since even Sophie hadn't really told me anything about her club, even though I tried to ask her and find out information by various manipulations.
The entrance to the club was on the third floor, right in the place where there was a passage to the three—headed dog in my freshman year. It was completely unclear where the fanatics had meetings last year.
As I approached the right place, I saw familiar faces greeting each other and entering the door I knew. Among them were two Gryffindor friends: Kenneth Towler and Russell Cox. The ones the twins were talking about, and the ones who were trying to get Hermione to sign the contract. I also noticed Slytherin Brandon Stevens from the seventh year, who took over the leadership during Halloween after Dylan Blair was knocked out by an agile brownie.
The room where Fluffy used to sit turned out to be just a passage to the next room. This time, there was a door on the back, where last year only a solid stone wall could be seen.
At the entrance to the main abode of the club, students wore hoods, and their faculty colors on their robes dimmed, which made it impossible to distinguish the students in the gloom. The only light came from lighted candles, which were placed on something like an altar - that's where the students were heading, and I quietly followed them.
The students gathered in a semicircle around this kind of shrine, and it was only at that moment that I finally managed to make out what the wall behind it was like.
There was a stone statue of Dumbledore. Lively.
She stared menacingly at the rows of gathered students, barely noticeably moved, crunching her stone body parts, but she did not move from her place, and did not utter words.
There were soft prayers from the students, each saying them in his own way. I was very close to Sophie, so I clearly heard her words.:
—Oh, Hogwarts, Hogwarts, the majestic castle. Give me the strength to get through this year. Great Dumbledore, teach me a lesson that will open my eyes. Test my spirit and my will, because only you are able to sift the wheat from the chaff. Tell worthy magicians the truths of this world, share your wisdom, punish the unworthy, exalt the righteous. Savior of a fading world, don't let magic go into oblivion, don't let the enemies of humanity win, don't let the bitter truth about our nature be hidden,— Sophie whispered her words over and over, repeating them as if they were some kind of mantra.
The echo of my prayers made my skin crawl, and the statue of Dumbledore seemed to be looking straight into my soul. In fear, I began to back away, eventually hiding from the omnipresent gaze of the stone replica of the director behind one of the pillars.
The twins were right — this is a real cult that prays to Dumbledore at the beginning of its meeting as if he were a deity. What a gloom...
— Greetings to all of you at the last meeting before Christmas! — after the prayers were said, Brandon came forward and began his speech. — Half of the school year has passed, and now we know the Great Dumbledore's plan this year. Like a ray of light, the Director points the way to the evil that has settled in our ranks. The student who dared to personally decide the fate of others must be found and punished! — his teammates reacted violently to his speech, expressing their agreement with his words in every possible way. — And let the ignorant suspect one of us, but I am sure that if you have performed the sacrament of prayer, then any evil in you must dry up. So let's find the traitor in the circles of the lost sheep. Let's show other clubs what kind of malice they cultivate in their bellies! Let's shine the light of truth on them! Let us illuminate them with the sacred flame of our faith! Let's show the grace bestowed by the Great Dumbledore!
Well, based on his convinced speeches, it became clear that the sought-after killer was not in the ranks of the fanatics. There are only potential ones — those who, after graduating from Hogwarts, will destroy anyone pointed out by their bearded messiah.
— Our cause is just! And we have been proving this for decades! Throughout the entire existence of the club, our brothers and sisters have been tested of their will at times — no, ten times more often than others! And they stayed alive!
Brandon had inflamed himself and the others so much that, apparently, he wasn't going to stop at all. Of course, students go home, so they need to be pumped full of ideology.
In order not to get into the ideas of the local "Dark Good," I stopped listening to the undergraduate's speech and began to examine the room more carefully.
Despite the semi-darkness, there were comfortable sofas and tables in the far corner of the mini-hall, where all sorts of goodies were waiting for their eaters. It turns out that even cultists like to eat delicious food.
I was much more attracted to the "Wall of Honor", a place where there were small animated portraits of wizards with a short description of their achievements. Apparently, these were the students who were members of the Headmaster's Club and had successfully graduated from Hogwarts.:
"Chloe Meredith. The head of the club in 1975. The head of the Muggle population Control department since 1981," the portrait showed a pretty girl with short hair, who closed her eyes every five to ten seconds and smiled to herself.
She probably imagined killing every tenth Muggle to "control the population."..
These were not the full-fledged portraits that littered the walls of Hogwarts, even if they remained absolutely silent here. Rather, these clippings of students from the Director's Club who had achieved at least something were animated in the same way as they did on the pages of the Daily Prophet.
Since I had to stay in this room until one of the students went out, I stood and looked at the portraits of former Hogwarts students. The monologue using oratory and religious borrowings by the head of the club had already ended, so the cultists discussed the club's tasks in a well-organized and coordinated manner, shared their assumptions about the identity of the killer and communicated on other, very different topics. Just like they did at my club meetings.
And from the outside, you wouldn't even say that some ten minutes ago they were praying for a wizard who forcibly forces children to study with wizards and periodically kills them.
I noticed familiar names several times, and then I saw that Dolores Umbridge, our first-year teacher of household magic, Charity Burbage, and even Remus Lupin were members of the Headmaster's Club during their studies. But then I saw a portrait that made my head spin.:
"James Potter. The head of the club in 1978. An auror in the service of the Ministry, heroically died in 1981 during the battle with Voldemort."
***
"Well, Ron, are you ready to take that back?" Or are you still in doubt? Seamus was feeling great, and judging by the look on his face, he was already looking forward to showing his friend his progress in practice.
—Oh, come on,— said Ron. — Did you even get out of training if you were able to learn spells so quickly?
— And what else was there to do for two whole weeks in an empty castle? — I asked a counter question. — Of course, to practice!
Ron didn't want to admit that while he was at home with his family all Christmas, many of us had learned Stupefy, Expelliarmus, and even the very difficult Incendio, which, however, so far only Seamus had come out with.
— You're just starting to realize how hard you'll have to try to catch up to our level. So you don't like what you're hearing," Finnigan chuckled. And judging by Weasley's sour expression, he'd hit the nail on the head.
"I can help you master the charms,— said Hermione. — Tomorrow or on the weekend, we can arrange separate training sessions, if Kyle doesn't mind.
"All hands for it, but the three of us will find something to do ourselves," I nodded benevolently.
"Uh.".. Okay, thanks, Hermione,— Ron was a little embarrassed, as he still felt ambiguously about the girl's help.
After the holiday desolation, Hogwarts was filled with students again, and the educational process resumed with the same vigor. There had still been no new murder, but my gut warned me that this was about to change soon—the killer had been hiding for too long.
—Kyle," Harry asked me, "are we going to resume our patrols?" Or will we come up with something new?
At the beginning of January, Harry was thoughtful and uncommunicative, digesting the information he received from me about his father. After all, from the moment he found out about what had happened to his parents, the boy strongly romanticized their personalities and did not expect at all that James Potter could turn out to be a fanatical follower of Dumbledore's actions.
After all, after my story, none of the guys had any doubts about what the Director's Club really was and who exactly was there.
But then I organized intensive training and charm training, with the help of which I managed to wake Harry up enough so that he was almost more active now than before the holidays.
— Now I don't think it will do any good. Instead of going around looking for suspicious students, we need to look from a different angle: understand the motives of the killer and find out why that Slytherin and Cormac died. How can they be related? How many students can we exclude from the circle of suspects? We need a list of all students, from which we will gradually exclude those students who have alibis during a particular murder. Hermione, will you do it?
— Expand that list of freshmen by increasing it seven times? Why not," the girl chuckled.
— Your scrupulous diligence will help us a lot, thank you. Well, Ron, in gratitude for the training, will help you as much as he can. Isn't that right, Ron? I looked at the boy expectantly.
— well... Sure, yeah," he nodded like a dummy.
— You see, Kyle, what a close-knit and helpful team we have! Ron alone is worth a lot! Seamus said loftily, making us laugh.
— Okay, guys, see you soon! Harry noticed the girls from his Quidditch team and started walking towards them.
Chatting and joking, we reached the clubhouse, where the first meeting after the winter holidays will be held soon.
"We're finally going to get back at the Ravens for that fight," Seamus said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
— And I would first take out the Slytherins for the dirty trick they gave us... Ron said gloomily.
On the very day when I infiltrated the Director's Club, the guys still lost in the general battle between the second year. Not only was I, as the strongest duelist, absent, but the Slytherins also decided to play defensively this time, without sending a single attacking spell at the opponents for the first few minutes of the battle. Apparently, they wanted to take down the arrogance of our team, which is used only to winning.
Then the crows, together with the badger, quickly figured out what was going on and focused all their forces on my friends. And even though Seamus, Ron and Hermione were able to arrange a decent exchange, Malfoy and Nott won in the end, who, after all the Gryffindors were eliminated, staged a surprise attack and finished off the remaining ravens.
—I think Ron's right,— said Hermione suddenly. — We should not allow ourselves to be dragged into the mud in this way. Especially from our allies.
Watching Ron's jaw drop, I replied:
- hm... Okay. Let's show them today what happens if you pull a lion by the tail. I think we can use our new arsenal of spells to knock out the Slytherins first, and then deal with the rest.
The guys were overjoyed with my decision, and Seamus's burning eyes did not bode well for the two snakes.
—Don't use Incendio, Seamus,— I warned my friend. "You know the rules of practice duels.
— But you can dream...
When we ascended to the Gryffindor tier, we were greeted by an acquaintance, Richie Coote:
— Hi guys! Is it true that you have mastered Stupefy? Aren't they lying?
—Hi, Richie,— I said amiably. — You'll see at the training duel today.
— Things are going well... It looks like the third year at the tournament will have to try not to lose face in the dirt, eh?" he said thoughtfully.
After Cormac's death, the sociable boy remained the only third-year student who was a member of the Gryffindor duel club. But even so, he was not discouraged and was always in a fairly cheerful mood, which I was very impressed with.
— You have a strong build too, Richie. Protego may well save you.
— And that's it. But we have zero teamwork and a small cart...
— So it is with us too. We'll practice teamwork a month before the tournament, and then we'll see," I replied to the boy, to which he nodded in agreement.
— Golden, have you finally decided to attend the club meeting, and even come in advance? — Dylan Blair got up from his seat and immediately overturned the joke, recalling my previous absence.
"Hello to you, too, Dylan. Yes, they say they teach dueling here, so I came to take a look," I replied jokingly, since the head of the school was clearly in a good mood.
—Ha ha! Not bad, not bad. Come on, since His Majesty has condescended to us, let's take a look at his progress in business. Follow me, Golden. While the others are pulling up, you will show your combinations and bundles.
I rolled my eyes—Dylan had clearly decided to gently teach me a lesson for my sharp tongue. But there was nothing to do, and he shouldn't be too hard on me.
While more and more teammates entered the room and dispersed to their tiers, I was given a stress test. Dylan waited for my attacks, easily dodged them or took them on his shield, after which he commented on my actions. For every mistake or serious mistake he made, he didn't shy away from sending out various spells himself, which I had to dodge on reflex.
I even liked this kind of sparring, because I had to put all my strength into hurting or at least surprising the senior. I got so carried away that I missed the moment when two fourth-year teammates ran into the club.
— Guys! Guys, ah! One of them shouted, trying to catch his breath as quickly as possible.
"The Nile?" Why are you so sweaty? "Chairman Goodwin was one of the first to notice something was wrong and came closer to them.
Dylan signaled me to pause the duel and also went to the guys, becoming interested in what was happening.
"There... there."..
— Yes, take a deep breath and say it normally!
Soon, almost the entire dueling club gathered around the two Hufflepuff boys.
"There's a new murder!" We saw the travel agents running away from the scene! Malcolm stayed there to keep watch," Neil Norton said quickly, after which he began to catch his breath again.
"They were crows... Gran Page and Jeremy Stratton—I recognized them! — another Hufflepuff student added his friend's words.
"So there are two killers?" Someone shouted from the crowd.
— And I said right away that this is a Club of researchers! Another voice came to me.
— Tom, what are we going to do? Dylan crossed his arms and frowned at Chairman Goodwin.
"Let's go find out for ourselves.".. I know both Page and Stratton, they're ordinary students, nothing remarkable," he replied thoughtfully.
— I know them too, they're from my class! Secretive guys, suspicious!
— That's it! Duel club — follow me! Did you two find out the victim's identity? Goodwin asked the badgers as they came running.
"Yes, he's a kid from our faculty, a sophomore," Neil replied, making my eyes widen.
"Who?" Who exactly? Hopkins shouted excitedly.
— Well, this one, the waif. I don't remember his name.
"Justin Finch—Fletchley?"
—Yeah, that's the one.
So Justine Bony caught up with the coward. He may have knocked us over in our first year, but the boy certainly didn't deserve to die...
"That's enough talking. Let's move out! — Thomas Goodwin came out of the dueling club with his wand on the edge, — lead the way.
We had no choice but to follow the seniors.
"Take a good look at all those who were in the club before the badgers came running," I whispered to my friends. "They're not suspected.
A fairly large group, and by this time almost the entire dueling club was assembled, boldly walked first through the corridor of Hogwarts, and then moved up the stairs in motion to the second floor, where a new murder took place.
The students were extremely serious: now they had names and witnesses to what had happened, so the seniors were determined to finally end Dumbledore's ordeal.
When we came to the scene of the incident, we saw a pretty bad picture. Justin lay lifeless on the stone floor against the wall. Malcolm, the guy who was waiting for us at the scene, was sitting nearby, and blood was streaming from his nose. Well, the rest of the corridor was occupied by members of the Explorers' Club, and their undergraduates menacingly bent over our teammate and pointed their wands at him.
— Hey, travelogues! Get away from him quickly! One of the duelists shouted.
— Have you completely confused the coast?! — the second one supported him.
"It's a murderer!" We have witnesses! The upperclassman girl, who was apparently their head, grinned triumphantly. "I knew it was all your gang of bullies and show—offs. They'll deal with you now...
Such words further inflamed the state of the duelists, and I myself was a little taken aback by such audacious statements.
— Have you completely lost your fear, Poole?! Or is she crazy? Thomas Goodwin shouted, pointing his wand at the girl. — I repeat for the last time: get away from our teammate and put your magic wands on the floor!
— As the head of the school, I support this requirement! Dylan stood next to Goodwin and took up his favorite dueling stance.
"You're covering up for a murderer, Blair!" Your words are worthless! The upperclasswoman screamed in response and pointed her magic wand in response.
Her actions were repeated by other researchers, but other duelists did not stay away.
— Maybe everyone should calm down, exhale and sort out what happened... Denis Green said faintly, but fate decided otherwise, and events rushed by.
I can't even tell you whose spell fell off the wand first. At one point, the students switched from words to deeds, and the corridor of Hogwarts shone with all the colors of the rainbow due to the rays of spells flying through it.
"Get down!" Green, French, Watts — protection! The rest of you, attack! Blair gave sharp instructions, rolling to the side at the same time.
Instead of giving orders, Goodwin sent powerful attacking spells into a group of opponents, but after a few moments he himself caught several particularly fast rays with his body, which managed to overtake the chairman before the formation of protection from massive "Protos".
A crowd formed. A lot of beams got stuck in the shields, but almost any successful ricochet from the wall or a low-flying beam found its target behind.
Even in such a wide corridor, which abounded at Hogwarts, it was too crowded to fight if there were almost forty people on both sides of the battle.
— Hit them en masse!
— Green! Green!
"What's wrong with Goodwin?"
"Against the wall!" I shouted to my friends, who immediately obeyed.
In an amicable way, it was necessary to retreat, but there was a showdown between the clubs. And if we retreat during a conflict in our own dueling field, then we can say goodbye to the reputation of the club. Therefore, I worked with everyone else to cast a variety of spells and send them to a mass gathering of travelers.
Someone savvy from the students figured out to do transfiguration and created something like barricades on the walls of the corridor from improvised things. Such a large gathering of students inevitably spread back and forth along the walls, taking up convenient positions for targeted fire at the hostile club and hiding from retaliatory charms behind the transfigured junk.
— Push through the shields! Come on, come on! — shouted Blair, who did not hesitate to bombard them with "Bombs" — the best explosive spell, perfectly suitable for weakening the "Protego". Of those that are studied in school, of course.
— We need to pull away those who are out cold! They're being enchanted!
— Let's go slowly forward, keep our shields up!
— Keep the Protego on its feet! At least someone!
— Don't stand in the center!
It felt like I was in the midst of one of the world wars, and in an instant I was right on the front line. Dangerous spell beams swept over his head and under his feet. Only the hull was saved by the magical shields that took the brunt of the attack. Students who were hit by one of the enchantments were constantly flying away, freezing, or passing out. Right in front of my eyes, Ron was hit by something concentrated, which caused him to spin in the air like a bundle and fly straight to the end of the corridor.
If the duelists won with skill and organization, then the researchers in this battle showed the real wonders of diversity. There were spells flying at us that I had never even heard of before. Not only attacking, but also affecting the castle corridor itself and changing its landscape. Not only direct rays, but also flashes, lightning, and smooth waves of magic. It was immediately clear that the travel agents weren't just sitting around in their club, going through careful preparation for their expeditions.
But we were considered the best for a reason. In the camp of the travelers, the number of students neutralized by spells was no less than ours. At some point, the last of their shields crumbled into yellow sparks, and everyone who was hiding behind it began to receive their dose of ruthless magic one by one.
When such a sudden battle ended and a debriefing was conducted, all the reasons for what happened were clarified, which turned out to be a banal misunderstanding.
The two travelers and the three duelists discovered Justin Finch-Fletchley almost simultaneously, approaching him from different directions. But the researchers saw only Malcolm, as he left the office he had been in before, the very first, after which they decided to run away, because they did not want to be new victims of the killer. Well, the duelists saw the escaping travelers and quite reasonably decided that they were involved in the death of the boy, proving this by their flight.
And then it spun, spun... It also played a significant role that the clubs were on edge and had been treating each other with increased suspicion for months. The misunderstanding was just the match that ignited the conflict that has been brewing since Halloween.
And its consequences were not long in coming.
***
"There has been an outrageous collective violation of Hogwarts rules. No, it's blatant! It's ugly! Professor McGonagall addressed the students gathered on the lawn, waving her bony arms emotionally. — One fifth of all students staged a stupid, reckless, unreasonable fight in the hallway of the school... — even I could see how she was shuddering all over from the fact that someone so numerous dared to disrupt the castle. — The punishment in this case should be instructive and inevitable. Only by applying it to all students involved in the conflict will they be able to learn the necessary lesson from this.
A cold wind blew, bringing with it a pile of falling snowflakes. I was so hot that sweat was running down my forehead.
The chair wobbled a little under me, but I managed to keep my balance and get it back to normal. He looked back to his left: Seamus was preparing for his own fate with his eyes closed. He looked to his right: Ron was restlessly scanning the gathered crowd, looking for either Harry or his brothers. Hermione was standing somewhere behind him, but I couldn't make out her face.
Across from me were fellow students from the researchers: Megan, Jack, Jerry, Sally-Ann... I may not have seen them in the thick of the battle, but they participated in the battle just like us. It's possible that some of the spells I cast hit the guys as well.
— For such a serious offense, I appoint you... Five minutes of punishment. Argus, mark the time. McGonagall said, and took out her own wand.
Five minutes... I swallowed instinctively, causing my adam's apple to rest against the thick rope. Yeah, five minutes... Is it a lot or a little? A hell of a lot, as far as I'm concerned.
Someone was sobbing, and some of the girls who were watching from the crowd looked at us with tears in their eyes. My nose itched at the wrong time, but my hands were tied behind my back, just like all the other delinquent students.
But after a few seconds, he will completely stop bothering me.
The professor waved her wand, and the chairs we were standing on began to fall like dominoes one by one onto a small layer of fluffy snow. The students remained hanging in their seats, as our necks were squeezed by a noose.
I started to jump and get nervous, because the barbed rope bit into my throat — it began to press painfully and interfere with breathing. The rest of the students, whom I had stopped paying attention to, also fluttered.
Tears sprang from his eyes, and a continuous wheeze came from his throat. The rope glowed with a blue glow, giving away the presence of enchanted properties on it.
We were hanged. For five minutes.
"The red look of the gallows man" was the name of this torture invention of a sick wizard. A rope that did not allow the hanged man to die, but at the same time conveyed to him all the accompanying sensations. Well, it had such a name because of the capillaries bursting in the eyes, which created this very "red look".
Minutes... What minutes, if even seconds, in this state lasted forever! It hurts so much!
That's how the conflict between researchers and duelists over the murderer of Justin Finch-Fletchley and other students ended. Dozens of students floundering in the air, who had the opportunity to get acquainted with the next punishment in the Dark Hogwarts...