Taking another cigarette from the pack, I clicked the lighter a couple of times. Passers-by sometimes glanced at me disapprovingly, dressed as I was, even by the standards of poor neighbourhoods, like a beggar. Taking another drag, I tried to figure out how deep I had got myself into trouble. It seemed to be somewhere in the middle: I couldn't see the light yet, but it was still possible to get out. At least I wasn't crippled, and no one had any business with me. I was just a totally uncool newcomer.
"No smoking here. Got it?" I grinned and looked at the character who had approached me. He seemed confident, since he wasn't scared off by my face.
"Of course," I said, not finishing my cigarette, taking it out with one hand while the other was pressed directly into my interlocutor's nose. There was an unpleasant crunch, but who cared? Dodging his punch, I hit him in the shin and then in the neck with the edge of my palm. While the man was writhing on the ground, I ran my hands through his pockets, searching for money.
"You have to pay for my time. Cigarettes don't grow on trees," I say. The man had a little money on him, about half a pound, and a nice knife. He must have "borrowed" it at some point. I searched him quickly, so without waiting for him to come to his senses and rush to defend his property, I quickly head for the courtyards. There is a very nice corner there that is completely hidden from view. I didn't want to take even the slightest risk.
"Appear." As usual, I felt a tug in my stomach and found myself not far from the Forbidden Forest, although Hogwarts was so far away that only the tops of the towers were visible.
A magnificent castle... Only there had my current body lived a little bit normally. I ended up in this "lovely" shell about six months ago. I was only thirty-five when, while transporting equipment from warehouses to several shops, I felt a twinge in my stomach... The pain was sharp, sometimes interrupted by a feeling of pressure. I decided that I could endure it for a couple of hours, especially since one of the customers was a hysterical person. I popped a painkiller into my mouth. So, the moron and idiot who didn't give a damn about his health, after suffering quite a lot in the evening, left this world. A trivial case of appendicitis was complicated by peritonitis, and in the evening my wife called an ambulance. They arrived half an hour later. I frown discontentedly — hellish memories, and stupid ones at that. The last thing I remember is the inside of the ambulance. And then I died. My wife and daughter were left behind. The only consolation is that I didn't leave them to a life of poverty. They have an apartment, a car, a dacha, and a pretty good euro account for a rainy day. If they manage their money wisely, they'll be fine.
Looking around to see if there are any unpleasant neighbours, I clench the stick in my hand and move deeper into the forest. The coordinates of the clearing (like many other things) were left to me by the previous owner of the body. Patrick O'Henley is a tall, burly man with slightly reddish hair, blue eyes and a terrifying face. But what did I expect? At least I survived. Judging by the same memory of the unfortunate man, he grew up with his mother, like a Muggle. Strange things happened, but without witnesses, and so it continued until the moment when an owl flew in. Patrick reread the letter several times and eagerly awaited his mother's arrival in the evening. Now he wouldn't have to forget about all the strange things — he was a wizard!
"Seko, akcio mushrooms." The bag was filled with fresh ingredients. Tying it up, I took out the next one. The ingredients must not be mixed together, otherwise they would lose their properties and the pharmacy would not even accept them for sickles. A little further away grew magical blue-eyed mushrooms, which were added to potions popular among witches for skin care. But there was a whole brood of snakes there, which reacted aggressively to my presence every time.
"Five sickles per stem, five sickles per stem," I said to myself, putting on my cloak and special gloves, and then several shields. They didn't last very long, maybe seven minutes at most. I didn't even try to cast disillusionment or other concealment spells. Magic snakes are nasty creatures; in addition to thermal "alarm" systems, they also have magical ones. It's very difficult to hide from them. So I'll go for a breakthrough, quickly grab what I need, and leave this inhospitable place without delay.
"Seko, seko, seko. Accio blue-eyes," I note with surprise that several snakes have also fallen under the spell; usually they hide quite well and try to bite from ambush. Jumping up, I grab the dead creatures and throw them into a bag. I don't use Accio, otherwise they'll fly everywhere...
"Left, right, left, right," I shout, jumping out of the clearing and running at least another kilometre. These creatures are vengeful. Once, I almost paid for my carelessness, but my quick reaction saved me, and I managed to dodge. The snake immediately hid after lunging at me.
It took another two hours to collect some moss and catch fifty yellow ants the size of a Galleon. They paid well for them. When I had a dozen bags tied to my belt, I landed not far from the pharmacy. It was a dirty, untidy alley, five metres from Diagon Alley. It seemed that the locals had this attitude towards everything: "If it doesn't concern me, I don't see or hear it."
"Twenty sickles," I said, looking at the short mage. Malpepper was clearly getting greedy.
"Thirty-five and a discount on some potions." I'm in no hurry, I can fray my nerves until evening.
"Twenty-five..." The rest of the haggling passed without much thought. Knowing this guy, he'd haggle for another twenty minutes.
Malpepper glared fiercely at my face and grimaced. Yeah, I know I'm not handsome. But what can you do? Patrick arrived at Hogwarts and caught many strange glances: they contained recognition, contempt, pity and anger. Later, lying in the hospital wing, the boy overheard a conversation between a medic and his dean.
"Poor boy," said Madam Sprout in a husky voice. "He was so handsome, and he lived such a peaceful life. If only he hadn't come to Hogwarts. But why did this happen now?
"You see, Pomona, the Lestranges were so proud of their pure blood that it was impossible to imagine they had a bastard. And O'Henley was a Muggle, you can imagine how terrible Rabastan's actions were for their family. Especially since everything came out." Only voices remained in his memory. The boy hadn't seen any faces back then. After he was cut off from the Lestrange family and his blood was burned, it was a miracle he was still alive. And he still had magic, albeit at the level of a magic school student, but it was there.
"How did you manage to save his life?" The dean of Hufflepuff sounded genuinely surprised.
"You see, Dumbledore...
"Thirty Sickles, O'Hanley, and if you continue to argue, I'll add Cruciatus on top of that, personally." I nod in agreement, snorting in the face of the irritated old man.
"Two potions to conceal your scent and a single potion to conceal your magical aura." "They were really necessary, because for the last six months they helped protect me from bounty hunters, and the clothes of a homeless person - from prying eyes. I wasn't afraid of the apothecary, the signed magical contract for the supply of ingredients forced the old fox to keep my secrets.
"What are you going to eat?" the mage grumbled, putting out the necessary items and placing the money I had saved next to them. Together with the raw materials, it came to exactly two Galleons, the cost of my safety for a couple of months.
"Whatever I find along the way." Nodding goodbye, I left the room and headed for a familiar alley.
"R-r-r," a large dog growled at the mage crouching against the wall. Looking closer, I recognised one of Lyutny's henchmen. The animal's appearance and colour also told me a lot, as did its very human gaze.
"Well, hello, Sirius Black."
"What? Did you anger the dog?" Two glances meet on the stick in my hand. "Get lost," the wizard jumps up and quickly leaves the alley, carefully squeezing himself under the wall.
"R-r-r," I knew what he was afraid of. But it was thanks to his escape that I was able to get a job; freaks like me aren't hired everywhere.
"What are you looking at, I don't have any food. Go to the pub or something, or you'll die soon, judging by the look of you." Sitting on the ground, the dog watched my actions closely. Grunting, I whispered, "Appare."
***
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