Bab 8: 8

Back in my room, I opened my bag and changed into more comfortable clothes, taking a rope, some folding hooks and 'cats' just in case, and thin but sturdy gloves. A hood and mask for my face would come in handy, as would steel claws for my boots. Also in my bag was a plastic bottle of water and half a litre of dry food. Anything could happen, so nothing should be superfluous. I took three more bags with me, which could easily hold the bag and other things. In case we had to swim. And after dropping off the ingredients for the torch (six pieces), I set off.

It's hard to describe how surprised my classmates were by my appearance. They looked at me with a look of shock. Although some of them showed a glimmer of interest, they asked no questions and went back to their classes. I could tell this wasn't Gryffindor with a pain in the ass. No, why did the Sorting Hat send me here in the first place?

Shaking my head, I stepped out into the corridor, activated my Wizarding Vision and approached the seemingly ordinary wall, but a few gestures and the wall shifted inwards and then backed away, revealing a staircase leading down. Nodding to myself, I pulled out my unusual wand and stepped into the tantalising unknown. As soon as I stepped down, the wall slid back into place with a slight rattle, closing the entrance. But this did not frighten me, so I lit a Lumos at the tip of my wand and continued on my way, tearing away the thick, dusty cobwebs with my hands, leaving traces in the thick carpet of dust that had accumulated over a very long time.

It took me quite a while to get down, and then I walked down the corridor, encountering turns to the left and right. My magical vision showed me that the left passage was gradually ascending and then turned into a staircase, which I didn't need. The right passage, however, led deep into the foundations of the castle. I went there, and on the way I came to a corridor that had been magically placed at the bottom of the lake! The walls of the passage were water! And there were fish swimming behind it, there were shells on the floor, and there was a giant octopus swimming in a convoy of newts and mermaids. To be honest, this corridor was quite frightening. I had a feeling it was about to collapse and I would find myself at the bottom of the lake, disoriented and stunned, at least by the impact of the water. But the corridor I had almost run through came to an end, and after opening the doors I entered a new, but now stone, corridor. Closing the doors behind me, I walked a short distance and began to descend once more into the depths of the dungeons of this frankly magical place. Like me, the real Harry was insanely curious to explore and have adventures.

Soon, however, I emerged into a cave that was simply indescribably huge. Even the walls were glowing! There were many strange glowing blue crystals, and at the bottom of the cave, where the entire castle could easily fit and there would still be room for the Forbidden Forest, a giant crystal shimmered with iridescent light, surrounded by obelisks of artefacts. And it was to this that all of the castle's power paths led.

After taking the path that ran along the cave wall, I soon found myself descending and standing near a giant crystal that literally radiated mana like my Core, only many times larger. The source of magic. The heart of Hogwarts. Examining the obelisks, I noticed two that had almost completely fallen apart, with barely visible traces leading to them, living on nothing but honesty. The other obelisks were more or less intact, but also in desperate need of repair.

He threw his bag on the ground, set up camp, rolled up his sleeves and walked over to the ruined obelisks. As he approached, he realised that they had been destroyed by collapsing stalactites, the remains of which lay around them. He looked at The Source, nodded to himself and, taking some of its energy, began to pile up the shards of obelisks and stalactites near the collapsed obelisks. Then I used Reparo's counterpart, only more powerful, designed to repair just about any structure. Mana was drawn directly from the source, and the shards of stone moved in, then began to rise and take their old positions, soldering themselves firmly to the other shards and the whole structure. And after half an hour, one of the two collapsed obelisks recovered. The runes flashed on its surface, and the path connected to it began to fill with energy, growing brighter and brighter. It took me three hours to recover the second obelisk, as its shards were somehow too far away, as if it had burst into flames rather than being destroyed by a local cataclysm. As he did so, he saw a lilac rune flashing, and as he approached, he cursed. This obelisk really did seem to have exploded due to a design flaw. A minor one, but one that made the rune look completely different. Not "crochet", but "crone". And these runes are completely different in their magical properties. Outwardly, however, they are only slightly different.

He took a hook from the bag, carefully drew the missing line and smeared it with blood from his pricked finger. The rune flashed and renewed itself, turning from purple to even blue. And the obelisk was enveloped in currents of energy, energising the circuit. Descending from the obelisk, I grabbed my bag and walked along the path of the first obelisk to find a chunk of rock that had caved in over time, breaking the runic energy channels. Here, a simple repair from the Sumerian armoury could only help to remove the rock and repair the cracks, but the runes had to be re-carved and replenished with his own blood. After three hours of tinkering, however, the path was restored and the obelisk was enveloped in magical currents, allowing more energy to flow into the castle. I could feel the castle sigh with relief and gratitude.

And then I had to go back to the living room and sneak into the room with the sleeping neighbours, put on my pyjamas and crawl into bed. My stomach rumbled, but I choked and fainted.

Immediately a housekeeper appeared in the room, adjusted the blanket on my sleeping carcass, cast a spell to purify the air and give it a slight mountain freshness. He cleaned and ironed all my clothes and went over to the neighbours and cast a few spells to stop them snoring and sniffing. The elf muttered to himself that wizards were very fond of snoring and respiratory remedies, which were readily available from any mage healer. But it was a pity even for these dwarves, and the poor man had to deal with a non-core business. Returning to his corner behind the wardrobe, he gestured to the other two housemates to clean and iron their uniforms. These helpers kept glancing enviously at the master's bed. But they were immediately sobered by the Master's stern gaze, and the servants disappeared from the room as soon as they had finished their work. The elf, remembering that his master had overslept his lessons today and had caused him trouble, hung the alarm clock over his head and with a clear conscience began to make a new feeding list for his ward. Though he hadn't needed the list last time, Master would certainly not oversleep this time, and pumpkin juice could be just as healthy as a mixture of fresh berries, soft oatmeal with fruit, and hot muffins with honey.

You know, I could have expected a lot of things, but not what happened this morning. I was asleep, dreaming such juicy, bright and warm dreams, when suddenly the siren sounded right above my ear and a commanding voice bellowed:

- Wake up, company! - I was so surprised that within thirty seconds I was standing at attention on my bunk, looking with misty eyes at my neighbour, who had fallen off the bed in surprise. And the grunting second man, who had jumped up in fright and banged his head on the headboard. But there was no sergeant, and noticing this, and then remembering where I was, I looked back at my bed and saw the active weaving of an alarm clock depriving the mind of its ward of the most effective way of waking up. And my sergeant from one of my lives can't be beaten at that. Believe me. So he worked on his reflexes, without even waking up, got dressed, made the bed and stood at attention by the stool, ready to be watched.

Exhaling and relaxing, he mentally spat and headed for the bathroom, grabbing some cleaning supplies and a towel. Glancing at the clock in the living room, he grimaced slightly and entered the bathroom to find it empty. Still, there was something to be said for getting up an hour earlier. For one thing, there were no queues in the bathroom and you could do your business in peace. As he approached the shower room, he noticed the door on the left with surprise and opened it curiously. He grinned in shock and smiled in satisfaction. There! That's what the restored power supply and the partial restoration of his abilities had done to the lock! And there was a bathtub in the room, into which I immediately poured water from the taps, adjusted the temperature, undressed and climbed in. Now we had a bathroom too, not just the headmasters! After soaking and washing, I walked out of the bathroom to the surprised looks of other sleepy students, leaving the door open and poking at it with my finger. The first student to see the bathtub in the bathroom jumped in and slammed the door in the face of the next inquisitive student. Well, as they say, first come, first served. Whistling a catchy tune from a TV show I'd seen in one of the worlds, I made my way back to the room.

- Our service is dangerous and difficult, in back alleys and courtyards, but it's not the first time, tra la la la la la la la! And in spite of your mess, your disorder and your holes in the walls, we're on duty for you, aren't we? To make a long story short, here were the operas..." he finished the song in bits and pieces as he entered the room, picked up his bag, let his hair down and went into the living room. Around him, like Brownian particles, in a kind of sleepy chaos, wandered the sleepwalkers not yet awake, running larks and looking for a hangover with eyes red from lack of sleep and a rough evening.

When it was time to move out, I joined the crowd of wandering fellow students and the headmistress quickly led us to the breakfast hall. To my surprise, I was the one who had a much better breakfast than everyone else, so I wolfed it down quickly and munched on berry juice scones, good thing everyone in our department was staring at their textbooks, even at the table. Then, after waiting for the others, I made my way to the right office with the rest of the crowd. Today we have Defence Against the Dark (ha-ha) Arts. The smell of garlic wafted through the room and standing at the lectern was Professor Quirrell himself, a turban wrapped around his head. Yes, well, he looked like one. And the power is a total nightmare! How could he not be dead?

As our faculty and the noisy Gryffindors gathered in the classroom, the professor began his lesson. Stammering, he introduced himself and wrote the topic of today's lesson on the blackboard. And it was, of course, an introduction to the concept of the Dark Arts! To make a long story short, Granger pulled at her hand throughout the lesson, the professor ignoring her as he stammered out stories of dark wizards and equally dark creatures and the dangers of encountering them. Especially the ones about vampires. Especially... The second part of the pair was all about vampires. It was like he was obsessed with them, honestly!

The second lesson we had was Transfiguration, and so today we were taught the simplest spells to turn an inanimate object into an inanimate person, and after giving everyone matches (children and matches... what was the fire safety situation here?), we were told to use the spell we had learned and turn a match into a needle. I looked at the spell this way and that, but still couldn't figure it out or understand it. It was just gibberish and a wand gesture. Why make it so complicated? I imagined the structure of the tree, substituted the metal structure for the shape of the needle and adjusted the fit to the shape by making a weaving gesture with my hand and saying the word Activator: "Transfo" in Sumerian, and with a slight hiss the match changed its structure and shape into a grey metal needle with an eye for thread. McGonagall, seeing this, walked over, examined the needle and gave her verdict:

- Ravenclaw, plus ten points for speed and quality of transformation! - And off she went to Hermione, who I remembered from the train was in Gryffindor. Her game was half-turned. And with this obscure spell! Looking at the pin, I took a box of matches from my bag and, laying them out on the table, began to practise the very spell McGonagall had given us. And to my own surprise, I turned a match into a needle for the first time. There was only one thing...

- Potter Harry! What does that mean?! - asked the Dean of Gryffindor as all the matches in the classroom suddenly turned into needles, and I looked at the four needles on my desk, then at the needles on the other desks in surprise, and could only say:

- Oops!