In absolute silence, Snape and I walked through the corridors of Hogwarts all the way to the Headmaster's office. We stopped in front of a stone gargoyle; it looked quite historically interesting, but Snape didn't let my curiosity linger for long. He immediately barked the password: "Lemon sherbet."
The gargoyle leaped aside instantly, revealing a spiral staircase. Snape took off upstairs with a brisk pace, while I took my sweet time. I had no reason to rush after someone I didn't respect.
With a knock, Snape entered and left the door slightly ajar. After a moment, I followed him inside.
I surveyed his office with interest, completely ignoring the Headmaster and Snape's clearing of his throat. On the wall hung portraits of former Headmasters—powerful and politically influential people. It immediately occurred to me what kind of knowledge they must hide. If they remembered spells, rituals, and techniques, they would be an excellent source of information. I'll have to find out how it works with them. Are they real paintings with memory, or just ordinary fakes? I hadn't seen any moving paintings at Rosier Castle. Why? There was surely a reason for it.
Snape cleared his throat again, but by then I was already looking the other way—at a perch and a phoenix. A legendary creature whose tears heal, who can survive even the killing curse, and who can teleport across the world regardless of wards. I was curious how he would react to me, so I moved toward him immediately. Fawkes watched me curiously but didn't sing.
I felt Snape's sharp gaze on me, but Dumbledore's as well. It was full of expectation. I think he was also curious about the phoenix's reaction. Would the phoenix approve of me and my soul, even though I already had one life on my conscience? That poor soul in the Knockturn Alley?
The phoenix was still staring at me intently, piercing me with his gaze, but I felt no emotion from him. I returned his look expectantly.
Slowpoke. He was taking too long, and I didn't intend to wait two years for his approval. I reached out my hand to scratch him. I approached slowly. He didn't look like he wanted to pull away, and I had apparently judged him correctly. He let me touch his feathers without any trouble. I felt extreme heat coming from him; he didn't burn me, but he was truly hot to the touch. His feathers were exceptionally soft and pleasant.
While those two wizards stared at me, I calmly scratched the phoenix. I liked animals; they were great. For a moment, I felt a pang of longing for my cat from my previous life... Fawkes must have sensed my sadness because he gave a mournful trill and pressed his head against my hand.
Strange creature. I must admit, I was afraid of his rejection. I didn't feel evil, even if I was tough, uncompromising, and had no problem causing harm. But I never hurt the innocent. I felt relieved. So even a killer could have a clean soul.
I scratched him for a while longer, but then I finally turned toward Dumbledore's desk.
Dumbledore was smiling at me; his face looked as if he had aged backwards twenty years. At least compared to when we met by the Mirror of Erised—there he looked like he was on the verge of death. Snape was scowling at me, likely due to my insolence, but thanks to my father, he was certainly kinder to me than he would be to other students.
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore?" I asked matter-of-factly. I wanted him to finally tell me what this was about. I needed to sleep and get myself together for tomorrow's hunt.
Without answering me, the Headmaster turned to Snape: "Severus, could you leave us alone? Thank you," he requested, as if it were nothing.
But I had no intention of staying alone with the old fool. He was very powerful, and although he believed in the good, what if he became convinced that the best thing he could do was kill me? I believed he wasn't a bad person, but I wasn't going to risk it. I'd rather have Snape with me, so I stopped him immediately.
"No way, Dumbledore. I want Professor Snape here. After your attack, I don't feel safe in the same room as you," I went immediately into a hard counterattack. I needed to paint him in the worst possible light in Snape's eyes so he wouldn't accidentally obey him. At the same time, it was a chance for Snape to show me how much he cared about my safety.
Snape didn't let anything show on his face, but I was more observant. I noticed how his shoulders stiffened and that he didn't immediately start screaming at me for not addressing the Headmaster with respect. He silently awaited Dumbledore's reaction.
The smile vanished from the Headmaster's face instantly, and he suddenly looked like a kicked puppy. Regardless—trust, but verify. I didn't trust him.
"As you wish, Patrik," he agreed in a sad voice. After a moment, he continued: "I didn't want to involve Professor Snape in the issues between us. I honestly wanted to apologize to you. I'm sorry for what happened."
I shook my head in disagreement. "An apology won't do anything, Professor. It was a mental attack on my person that left me in a genuinely bad psychological state. Probably much like the one you had when you looked into that mirror yourself. If I kill someone, an apology won't bring their life back."
He had to admit I was right. He nodded in agreement, and I saw him thinking intensely.
"Honestly, Patrik, I am sorry. In some things, you were right—sometimes it really is better to let things take their course," he paused for a moment, then continued: "Fawkes is an excellent judge of character, and it seems he likes you. Since my apology is just an empty word to you, how about we make a deal in Slytherin style?"
"I'm listening, Professor," I replied with my arms crossed. Snape continued to watch our conversation with an unreadable expression.
"As you surely know, I am considered a powerful wizard with knowledge gathered from decades of studying various branches of magic. I have contacts, rare books, and special spells," Dumbledore suggested with false modesty. I didn't blame him for being proud of his strength; he must have worked hard for it like any powerful wizard.
"Yes?" I asked with feigned lack of interest. Of course, he saw through me immediately and answered with a smile.
"Yes. Within reason and according to your choice, I am willing to share some book, knowledge, or spell."
He knew right away, the bastard, that he had me. I needed power. Dumbledore certainly wasn't the only strong wizard I had to consider. Grindelwald was still in Nurmengard, Voldemort was alive, and Rasputin was active in Russia. There were also various dark mages in Africa—a war was still going on there, and who knows what will happen in the coming decades. China? There were brutally powerful mages there too, and a solid communist regime. The problem was that the British Isles were completely cut off from worldwide magical news. They were so arrogant that they didn't report on events outside at all.
He saw how intensely I was thinking. He saw that I was on the edge, so he added: "You don't have to choose now, take your time to think. My apology is sincere, and within reason, you will get what you choose," he promised me with a smile.
"Fine, agreed, Professor. But I'm taking you at your word—within reason, I get exactly what I ask for," I wanted his promise confirmed.
"Yes, you have my word. When you decide, you can contact me through Professor Snape."
I nodded and turned to leave. I looked questioningly at Snape to see if he was coming with me, but he just shook his head. So I headed for the door alone. I hadn't even reached it when Fawkes demanded my attention again. I returned to him to scratch him once more before leaving.
He sang a short melody that immediately improved my mood. For a moment, he pulled away from me, caught one of the feathers on his chest with his beak, jerked his head sharply, and handed it to me.
I stared at him in surprise. Weren't phoenix feathers supposed to be extremely rare? Wasn't it a feather like this that was at the core of both Voldemort's and Potter's wands? But I definitely didn't plan on using it for a wand.
After a moment of hesitation, I took it and quietly thanked him. Neither Dumbledore nor Snape reacted in any way, so I left without another word.
Tomorrow will be tough.
***
The next day dragged on incredibly slowly. I couldn't wait for classes to finally end and for it to be five o'clock. My impatience was so obvious that even Agnes and Tobias asked me what was going on. I wasn't myself, but this was a serious matter for me.
In all those years in this body, I had truly grown into the identity of a wizard. Since the visit to the family estate and the Yule ritual, my bloodline had begun to mean a lot to me. Was it the effect of the ritual, or what exactly was it? It was strange, but definitely not unpleasant. I felt pride in my ancestors, and it mattered to me to help our allies. Specifically Sirius Black, who was basically my cousin.
Since my mother was disowned because she was a Squib, I didn't have the best relationship with the rest of the family. I had no idea how her sisters viewed my mother. I was sure Aunt Andromeda and cousin Nymphadora would treat her well, as would Sirius. Regarding Narcissa, I wasn't sure, and Bellatrix? She would probably kill her and then try to eliminate me too—according to the books, she was totally insane.
Of course, I didn't know for sure since I didn't know them personally; it was useless to speculate.
We were just having our last Potions class, where we were once again brewing that annoying Boil-Cure Potion.
Who was supposed to enjoy this? The recipe was simple, it stank, but it was apparently necessary for the hospital wing since almost everyone from the second year up knew the Furnunculus curse. But I needed to learn advanced potions—more demanding and complex ones. I had business plans for an extremely successful company, and I'd just need to invent one revolutionary potion. Unfortunately, my knowledge wasn't sufficient yet, and I didn't enjoy potions at all. I only cared about that one goal.
Considering that wizards ate absolutely everything, there were an awful lot of fat people among them. They had a high body fat percentage and weren't in the best physical shape, which was actually understandable—they didn't even have to get off the couch to summon whatever they wanted. Do something in the garden? A flick of the wand. Wash up? A flick of the wand. Do the dishes? A flick of the wand. Pack up? A flick of the wand.
Well, in short, a flick of the wand was the answer to every physical activity. And they looked the part. They ate unhealthy things, and the negatives that would plague any Muggle were solved with potions. But the fat? That stuck to them. You just had to walk through Diagon Alley, and almost every second wizard was obese.
A fat-reduction potion? That would be a massive hit. But for that, you need knowledge, and if I asked the older students, I'd be afraid they'd steal the idea. Plus, I don't even have enough capital for legal services right now.
I couldn't wait for summer. I had big plans with Vespera and her support in the area of Dark Arts.
Finally, the Potions class ended. Fortunately, Longbottom didn't melt his cauldron today; I don't understand how he could be such an anti-talent when Herbology was no problem for him. Luckily, after months of toil with the most basic mixtures, he could at least brew the simpler potions now.
We packed up and went to hand in our samples. If you're wondering how it worked, it was quite simple: when someone finished their work, they stepped before Snape. He graded the sample, and if the grade was at least an "A" (Acceptable), we left the potion in the cauldron on the spot. If the result was worse, we had to get rid of it.
I admit that in the beginning, I had a bit of trouble with potions. My preparation of ingredients was catastrophic—the pieces I cut were all different. I used to cut the ingredients like someone preparing chicken breast for a stir-fry... basically every piece different, even if they were similar in shape. Now, however, like most Slytherins, I was getting at least A's. In this regard, Snape was fairly objective. He couldn't very well give a fake grade to a potion that was headed for the hospital wing. That would end very badly.
We immediately headed to our common room to quickly write our essays. It was already our habit—first fulfill duties and then focus on spell practice and duels.
Finally, we finished that annoying theory on Transfiguration for McGonagall. I finished roughly at the same time as Agnes. She was more the studious type; grades mattered to her much more than they did to me. I couldn't care less. I didn't plan on working in some boring, ordinary position. So while I breezed through the essays just enough to get by, Agnes wrote them like a professional. Her father really cared about results.
"Classroom, Patrik?" Agnes asked. Nearby, Theodore and Tobias were still working hard on their assignments. Both were striving for good grades; apparently, it was common in pure-blood families. But I had no one to preach to me, and Vespera taught me how to be powerful rather than how to write essays... thank God for that.
"No, Agnes. Not today. I have something to do."
A quick Tempus told me I still had half an hour to spare. I decided to head out early—at least I'll have one more cake in the kitchen.
Agnes was used to me keeping certain things to myself, so she just nodded understandingly. I nodded to the guys and left the common room.
***
I sat contentedly in the Hogwarts kitchen, enjoying a cake again. This time, however, it wasn't apricot but blueberry. It reminded me of my great-grandmother—it was the type of cake that was common during the communist regime. I think it was called a "cup cake", but I wouldn't bet my life on it. Actually, all I wanted to say was that although it was simple, it was refreshing and amazing. I didn't have milk this time, though... it would be a really bad idea if I crapped myself during the confrontation with the rat.
I was finishing the last piece when the twins walked into the room. They seemed tense and serious, as if they were going into an actual battle. It was a change from their usual grinning behavior, but it was definitely better than if they were to slack off.
"Hello, Patrik," they spoke at the same time. Perfectly timed. For a split second, I wondered if twins had some kind of amplified effect when casting magic together, but I immediately dismissed the thought.
"Hey. Ready? Do you have the map?"
"Of course, we couldn't even sleep! We've been watching him nonstop!" shouted the one on the left.
But the second one immediately shut him down: "Don't lie, Fred, you slept like a baby! I was the one watching him all night!"
"I'm Fred, you're George!"
"Are they out of their minds?" I asked myself internally, but I saw they were just trying to lighten the mood because of their nerves. I chose to ignore it.
"Gred and Forge, the map, please," I requested calmly. Fortunately, they didn't fool around, and one of them slapped it onto the table immediately. I opened it at once and touched it with my wand: "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
I started looking for Peter. Coincidentally, he was in the library again with Ron and the others. We'll have to get him out of there somehow.
"Guys, we'll have to lure him out along with Ron. Discreetly. Madam Pince could give us trouble if we were too loud, or God forbid, if we had to get a little rough," I remarked toward them.
"What do you mean by rough?" one of them blurted out. "Ron has to be safe."
"Yes, he's our brother!" the other added.
"Of course he will be. A Stunning Spell, Disarming, and so on. You don't have to worry," I promised immediately, though in my head I already had harsher scenarios if that rat decided to transform and run.
They nodded silently, satisfied for now, and so we headed for the library. I had the cage hidden on me, and one of them was constantly checking the map. The plan was clear.
They'll get Ron out discreetly—just him. They'll make up some private family matter, and then we'll simply throw the rat into the cage. Easy peasy. I was to wait outside the library so as not to arouse suspicion that something bad was happening if they saw me with them.
"Everything will go like clockwork," I whispered as they went inside. I held the map now and watched as their dots on the parchment approached the Golden Trio.
I saw them stop. I watched them with tension for a moment, and after a short while, Ron did indeed head out of the library with them.
"Fuck," slipped out of my mouth. The name Peter Pettigrew didn't move on the map at all. It was still glowing right next to Granger and Potter.
The redheads just walked out. The twins were looking at me full of expectation, while Ronald immediately cried out in surprise: "What is he doing here?!"
"Stupefy!" I stunned him instantly. He was hooting like a madman, and I didn't intend to risk the rat getting spooked and running if he heard him. But what was worse—the twins, in a defensive reflex, pulled their wands on me.
"Gryffindor morons," I thought. They knew I'd stun him if necessary. Before they could attack, I started explaining.
"Guys, Pettigrew is still in the library, Ron doesn't have him in his pocket. His yelling could have warned him. Put those wands away," I ordered immediately. We didn't have time for their single-cell reasoning.
They tucked their wands away instantly and shrugged apologetically. "What now? Are we going in for him?" one of them asked.
I thought for a moment and then nodded. "One of you has to go in as if nothing's happening. Make up a story that Ron was running after Percy, for example, and forgot Scabbers. Say you came to get him. We'll wait for you here with the cage open."
They nodded, and one of them headed inside right away; they didn't even have to discuss it. Were they telepaths or something?
I saw that Fred went in, while George watched the map with me. I waited tensely to see if something would get fucked up, if Scabbers would sense something unusual and make a run for it. It didn't happen. Fred stopped for a moment at their table and after a while headed back to us with Scabbers in his hand.
Ron was still lying on the ground, stunned. We only have a few seconds before someone notices something suspicious. Enough time for it to get complicated, but also enough for it to work out smoothly. It was a simple plan, and those are the best. You could cut the tension in me with a knife.
Fortunately, as soon as the door opened, Fred immediately put the rat into the cage and closed it. The runes glowed for a second and then went out. Scabbers immediately began to squeal.
You've realized it now, haven't you, you piece of shit? You're fucked!
"We have him! Thank you," I turned to them with a smile. Now I just had to wait for Vespera, who would arrive by my birthday at the latest. Pettigrew will go to Azkaban where he belongs, Sirius will be free, and I will have fulfilled my duty to an allied house. Of course, I was also counting on a financial bonus, some family secrets, and books... but that can wait.
"As soon as I leave, wake your brother up and make something up. Pettigrew will be in Azkaban soon, and I'm sure it'll be in the Daily Prophet shortly," I paused for a second, then added: "Black will be free, and I'll definitely mention your names. A monetary bonus would surely come in handy for you."
As soon as they nodded in agreement, I headed happily to the common room.
"Simple plans are fucking best," I thought contentedly.
***
Author's note:
So, what do you guys think about Dumbledore? It looks like he's actually developed a bit of a conscience... or at least he's trying to make amends. What do you think Patrik is going to ask for in return?
Fawkes is such a legend, and that feather is definitely going to come in handy later on ;).
As they say, simple plans are the best—and Peter is absolutely screwed.
***
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