Part 2. Inevitability Chapter 1. Reversion

Studies at Hogwarts had been in full swing for two weeks, and students, some lazily, and some happily went to classes. The weather was surprisingly warm for the early fall of 1944, and even a series of rains had not yet fall on the magic castle.

There was a loud pop at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A woman's body collapsed on the withered grass, and a strangled hoarse moan was heard. The young girl could not get up on her knees as quickly as she wanted. All her strength was thrown into trying to catch her breath. Only then she tried to stand up, fumbling for the cracked surface of the dead tree's stiff bark and pushing it off with both palms of her hands. Long-distance Apparition is characterized by splitting and pain, but the girl appeared to be fine except for her labored breathing. A cool wind hit her face and ruffled her long raven-colored hair. She immediately blew disgruntledly on a curl that fell unruly over her eyes, and then, with a heavy sigh, she finally straightened up, but then froze. Pale fingers clutched at her right side.

"Protective spells, damn you," she croaked in a muffled whisper, pushing a dry twig to the foot of the tree.

Studying the area with a penetrating gaze, she never blinked, then she deftly removed the ring from her pale hand and put it into her pocket.

Far away, in the melting sunlight, a huge castle towered. The stranger took a brave step toward the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but stumbled as Apparition did its part, even if it was invisible at first glance. Another reason, apparently, was the lack of shoes. Her bare feet were definitely cold, and the ground was not covered with velvety grass, but with a stunted echo of greenery. Although September turned out to be warm, the weather was completely unsuitable for a long black dress.

She barely made it to the main entrance, and looked around warily: the nature around, as well as the castle itself, looked insanely beautiful and even majestic. A vague memory of a similar sensation arose inside, but it immediately vanished like a fog. The consciousness grasped desperately at the pathetic echo of the sudden reminiscence, which the girl, shaking her head grudgingly, drove away like an annoying fly.

The clanging and grinding of the front door were unpleasantly loud. A man of medium height appeared on the threshold. His blond hair was disheveled, and his thick mustache was covered with drops of sweat. He was out of breath, which indicated one thing: An enraged Apollyon Pringle, the Hogwarts caretaker, was running as fast as he could.

"Nasty girl!" he spat out a curse, catching his breath on the last syllable. He looked like a fish with bulging eyes that opened its mouth desperately, but only silence came out. Coughing loudly and disgustingly, he finally asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm a student," she answered and examined him from head to toe.

"Don't lie!" Pringle made a sweeping motion of the arm, but did not hit. The girl didn't react; she didn't twitch or blink. "I know all the students, and I've never seen you before! I saw you at the edge of the forest! You are not a student!"

"I'm a Hogwarts student," she retorted with an iron calmness that seemed to annoy the caretaker even more. "Just take me to Dippet."

Apollyon squinted in displeasure as he looked the intruder.

"Ha!" he snorted. As if some ragamuffin dares…"

His indignation was interrupted by a calm male voice.

"What's going on here?"

Behind the caretaker appeared the professor of Transfiguration, who was, in fact, in a hurry on his own business, but could not pass by, noticing the strange swarming at the main entrance.

"Sir, this girl insists to be a Hogwarts student, but this is the first time I've seen her."

Dumbledore looked at the barefoot girl, whose appearance left much to be desired, but she was calm and unperturbed.

"What's the young miss's name?"

"Irene," she confidently introduced herself and looked into the blue eyes of the professor.

Dumbledore, in turn, frowned. Then he slowly raised his eyebrows, and wrinkles appeared on his forehead — he was taken aback.

"Irene!.." he repeated the name. "It took you a long time to get to Hogwarts... Mr. Pringle, where did you see our guest?"

"She appeared at the edge of the forest, exactly at six in the evening!"

"Well... We will discuss the details of your appearance later. You're obviously cold."

The professor motioned for the guest to enter the school, to which Apollyon Pringle grimaced in a disgust. Irene nodded gratefully in response and proceeded inside, ignoring the presence of the caretaker.

"Professor, I…"

"Later, Irene," Dumbledore's voice sounded, as it once did, soft and soothing. "You're cold. And," he glanced at her bare feet, "you should clean yourself up before you go to the Headmaster. Go to the prefects' bathroom. It's on the fifth floor, door four to the left of the statue of Boris the Bewildered. In the meantime, I'm going to visit Professor Dippet... I have to check the archives. After all, six years have passed ...Dumbledore looked thoughtful, but his calm speech made it a little easier, because it was obvious that he remembered Irene and was in a positive mood.

"Yes, sir! That would be wonderful."

Dumbledore brought Irene to the right floor, and she, following his silhouette disappearing around the corner of the corridor, pushed the door open.

She saw a spacious room of white marble. In the middle of the room there was a large deep pool, the edges of which were rimmed by many gold taps decorated with gems. A large beautiful chandelier with burning candles hung from the ceiling. The windows were covered with linen curtains, and in the corner, there was a stack of snow-white towels. On the wall, there was a picture in a gold frame, on which a blond mermaid was seated.

"Emplasturum!" The white cloth immediately turned into a band-aid. "It's all right, we'll manage. It'll have to wait," Irene whispered, sealing the wound.

As soon as she stepped into the pool, foamy water poured out of the golden taps: pink and blue soap bubbles the size of soccer balls from one, thick white foam from another, fragrant purple clouds from a third, and a light stream of bubbles that rose into the air and froze in high arches as they barely touched the water. Plunging into the water, Irene took a deep breath and just closed her eyes.

"Everything will be all right," she whispered softly into the void, and then she sank headlong under the water.

Consciousness slammed the heavy doors to the chambers of the mind, where Irene spent the next half hour.

When she left the pool, she found her clean, ironed clothes and brand-new shoes.

"Oh, Dumbledore, thank you!" Irene said, realizing that it was the professor who gave the order to put the dress in order to the elves working at the school.

To appear in front of the headmaster of Hogwarts in a dirty dress, barefoot, with dirty feet, was really not the best idea. The professor solved the problem, for which Irene was grateful.

She dressed quickly and was ready to leave the prefects' bathroom when a sharp stabbing pain in her side made her freeze in one place and then slowly sink to the floor. Pale fingers dug into the black curls, testifying to the impossibility of enduring this torment. Irene squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and then silently stared at one point, rubbing her temples. The current of thoughts, too turbulent, was dragging into its whirlpool. Sighing heavily, Irene collected all of her will in a fist and confidently stood up. Then she headed for the exit into the corridor, where Professor Dumbledore was already waiting for her.

"Consider it a gift," he smiled. "This bathroom is actually for prefects of houses, but Quidditch players are allowed to use it, too."

"Thank you for the warm welcome," Irene thanked politely, and a tentative but still smile appeared on her face, "and thank you so much for the clothes, Professor!"

"The headmaster is waiting for us."

Dumbledore smiled warmly, and Irene obediently followed him into the Headmaster's Tower. A small crowd of first-year students met her. They were joyful, noisy, and their eyes were still lighting up because of a magical castle. It was as if Irene had been poked with a blunt needle: the obsessive thought that she could study here six years ago, and also hurry somewhere about her business, responded with an unpleasant heaviness in the stomach. Irene got dizzy momentarily, and it made her want to throw up. Damn wound!

Soon Dumbledore and Irene were at the entrance to the tower itself, where a huge stone stairwell gargoyle stood. The professor said loudly, "Gingerbread!"

Immediately, the statue turned, revealing a spiral staircase leading up. Dumbledore's voice rang in Irene's ears, but she obediently followed, without giving a single hint that every step was difficult for her.

"Wait a bit," said the professor, opening the door to the office, and immediately came across a frightened girl's look. "It's all right!" He patted her shoulder reassuringly.

The door slammed loudly, and a few moments later there were unintelligible male voices. Forgetting the pain and nausea, Irene immediately set the hearing amplifying charm and listened to each word.

"No, Armando, the girl looked very haggard and exhausted. The defense had been breached ten minutes before she arrived. She was lucky."

"However, appropriate measures must be taken, Dumbledore."

"As a matter of course..."

Loud footsteps swiftly approached the door. There was a flick of the hand, undoing the charm. Irene staggered to the opposite side of the entrance, and her gaze was fixed on the spiral staircase going down, as if it were something amazingly beautiful, requiring contemplation. Dumbledore opened the door, nodded approvingly, and she, tearing herself away from such interesting action, cautiously followed him.

In a spacious round office with many windows, on the walls of which were hung numerous portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses of the school, there was a table. Exactly there the wizened, sickly-looking wizard was sitting. He was practically bald, except for a few wisps of gray hair. Armando Dippet looked sternly at Irene.

"Your name is Irene, isn't it?"

She nodded silently and anxiously clutched at the hem of her black dress.

"Well, have a seat. I'm the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Armando Dippet. You should have been admitted to our school six years ago... Frankly, we're a little shocked by your sudden appearance, as well as your disappearance."

The headmaster fell silent, staring inquiringly at Irene, waiting for a logical explanation of what had happened.

"Sir!" She sat up straighter in her chair, and her hands rested obediently on her knees. "I don't know exactly what happened six years ago, but..." The pale fingers removed an unruly curl behind the ear. "Touching one of the books I was packing in my suitcase, I was thrown into a completely unknown area. There was a plain with a huge mountain... I remember crying for a long time, realizing that I was in a completely unfamiliar place. You know that I was eleven years old at the time, and I did not master magic properly. However, I didn't have any knowledge either... I spent the next three years in Koldovstoretz, where I was sent to, as it turned out. I couldn't go back, because I was a lonely child, and it was really great there... Then another three years in Germany. I won a special grant from their ministry, so without thinking twice I went to Europe. Today there was a treacherous attack on the school in Dortmund, where I studied... You know that these are terrible, dark times... Not only for Germany, but for all of Eastern Europe..." There was pain in Irene's eyes. She swallowed hard, and continued in a whisper, "I ran here, sir... I have nowhere else to go."

The story sounded logical and convincing, because everyone knew about the portkeys and the portals. A random thing might well have played such a cruel trick. Considering that an eleven-year-old girl living in a Muggle orphanage, who had just found out that she was a wizard, had absolutely no knowledge or any understanding of such things.

"All right, Irene, I'll make a request to your school. I have heard it is quite small and closed, but it always produces very strong wizards who hold high positions in Ministries all over the world.

"Yes, sir... That's why I was especially pleased that I got there. As for the request, all the necessary documents have already been sent to Hogwarts, the owl should arrive within the next week. My teacher sent you a request for my transfer, as I wanted to finish my studies here, because..."

"You should have originally studied here," Dumbledore said with a sympathetic smile on his face.

He remembered a little, thin girl with tight black braids and a pale, haggard face, and how she could not remember who she was and where she came from. He remembered how a light flashed in her green eyes from the good news about admission to Hogwarts; a visit to King's Cross station on September 1, 1938, where he was waited for two young wizards to hand over a second ticket and a little bag of galleons... But only one came — a little boy, whose ardor was suddenly replaced by calmness and politeness. He became withdrawn and taciturn, not quite the same as the first meeting at the orphanage. The answer to the question, where his girlfriend was, was "not a friend, she disappeared". Of course, the girl was not found either in London or in any other place in England, because, as it just turned out, she was in a completely different country. Obviously, she had a hard time, and her journey to the designated place was so long... She did not choose her fate... It just happened.

Irene nodded silently, lowering her head. Her curls fell unruly over her face.

"What's the young miss's last name?" The headmaster demanded sternly. "And do you have any relatives?"

Irene was silent. Dippet raised his eyebrows questioningly, looking through two small glasses.

"My parents are dead, sir," the voice trembled treacherously. "As for the last name, Fräulein Düster."

"Miss Duester," Dumbledore smiled. "It is our customs to call you Miss."

"Out of habit..." Irene fidgetily wiped a tear from her cheek, which still treacherously exposed her emotions and inner state, but then she smiled hollowly. "In Koldovstoretz, they helped me find my parents, but unfortunately..."

"It's all right, Miss Duester," Dumbledore smiled. "It's all right."

"You lived in the same orphanage with one of the currently best students of Hogwarts," Dippet's strict tone made Irene try to remember who he was talking about, but not a single image came to mind. "Well... In any case, Dumbledore checked the archive, and you really should have studied here... We will wait for your documents and, if necessary, visit the school where you studied before.

Irene nodded obediently, blowing on the annoying curl that kept trying to prick her delicate eyelids. The men looked at each other, and Dippet nodded faintly to Dumbledore.

"Welcome home," the Headmaster smiled for the first time. "Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

"If you've done well in school up to this point, you can probably get right into your senior year. Gaps in knowledge will definitely need to be filled, we have strict requirements here. And, Irene, you have to pass the sorting ceremony," Dumbledore nodded encouragingly.

"Yes, I'm ready," Irene shrugged listlessly.

There was a large sorting hat hanging behind the headmaster's back, which he carefully took off and handed to the professor. Dumbledore brought it to the top of the girl's head, and it fumbled, but barely managed to touch the black hair, immediately shouted, "Slytherin!"

Irene flinched in fright. The Headmaster, on the other hand, smiled, putting the wise helper back in its place.

"Well, Irene, we are waiting for you in the great hall for dinner... in ten minutes. Hurry up."

"Can I not be introduced?" The wary question sounded unsure.

"All right," Dippet was a little surprised, but agreed. "Your way home was too long and thorny... We will not create an additional anxiety. Tomorrow you will go for a robe and all the necessary books."

"I'm seventeen now. Can I use Apparition from the school grounds?"

"Actually, no, Miss Duester," Dumbledore replied. "You're lucky that you were able to apparate on school grounds."

"Why is that?"

"The school is protected. Only the Headmaster and some of the teachers have that privilege. By the way, did you notice anything strange when you appeared near the forest? The enchantment doesn't affect the Forbidden Forest, but you can't apparate on the grounds before it."

"No, sir," Irene shrugged, "nothing at all. Only the angry man who met me at the entrance."

"Ah, this is our caretaker, Appolyon Pringle. He is very strict, and his punishments are quite severe, so it is not worth violating the rules of conduct and discipline at Hogwarts."

"As for Apparition," Dippet adjusted his glasses, "since you're already seventeen... And we have this situation, then, as an exception, we'll allow it. Do you remember where all the necessary things are sold?"

"Yes, I remember," Irene nodded.

A small leather pouch, painfully familiar, filled with galleons for poor orphaned students, was laid out on the table in front of the newly minted student. She obediently took it and placed it in the deep pocket of her dress.

Then there was an explanation of how to get to the great hall, and Irene went there. There were practically no students in the corridors, apparently everyone was already in the great hall of Hogwarts, the doors to which were wide open. "That's fine," a joyful thought flashed. "I'll go in unnoticed and sit on the edge..."

Confidently entering the huge hall, Irene saw four long tables: Slytherin was on the left hand, which caused untold joy, because she would not have to attract too much attention, making her way deep into the rows, if the snake faculty table was somewhere else. Except that the only free place, as it turned out, was not close to the entrance. Bridging the distance of several meters, Irene looked with interest at the enchanted ceiling decorated with a scattering of stars. The sight of such skillful magic and beauty sent pleasant goosebumps, and a smile barely touched the lips, as cold mind took over, slamming shut like a visor, and interest in the magic ceiling disappeared as quickly as it appeared. The cutting pains in Irene's side increased, it got worse. With her head held high, Irene strode to an empty seat, casting a somewhat cold glance at the other houses.

"Move over," her voice sounded imperious, as if she had just given an order. The students, casting appraising glances, whispered quietly among themselves, which was irritating. "I am a new student. My name is Irene. Nice to meet you all." Without waiting for any approving gesture to allow her to take an empty seat, Irene added, "And I don't say it twice."

"Okay, but this seat is taken, Irene," the blond guy about her age smirked, exchanging a mocking glance with the dark-haired neighbor.

"I beg your pardon?" The theatrically polite question sounded too loud, drawing the attention of the other students. "No one seems to be here, which means this place is mine."

"Yeah, but..." He glanced behind Irene's back at the end of the hall, where the main entrance was, and then suddenly stopped, though his speech had promised to be ardent and vivid from the start.

"Look, I'll stay out of your way," Irene pointed a finger at the blond fellow student, eyebrows arched in mute questioning.

"Edmund Avery," he said quietly.

"Mr. Avery, and your way, Mr.?" A predatory stare settled on the brunette.

"Adalbert Lestrange."

"Mr. Lestrange. And you stay out of mine." A strained smile, more like a grin, froze on the pale face. Irene's stomach seemed to ache even more, and the damned students were even more unnerving.

"Yeah, the hell with you," Avery sniggered as he looked once more at the main entrance and then continued his evening meal; Lestrange followed the lead. The rest of the students, who had been watching silently, now were staring at their plates.

Irene flicked her unruly hair back and took a sip of bubbly pumpkin juice, so long-awaited and so sweetly pleasant. It was definitely obliged to give a feeling of lightness and relief! But it didn't happen. Her body was suddenly flooded with heat. Irene was sure the temperature rose. "Either it's a hell of a pumpkin," she thought to herself, "or I need to rest immediately."

She hurriedly finished her juice, grabbed the first piece of pie she could find, and hurried to the exit. There were too many people in the great hall and too much attention on the new student, who didn't look like a freshperson and didn't wear a robe yet. Before she was a full-fledged student, she already seemed to have messed up relationships with some young men. Fine. Why did they swoop in like pesky flies, though? She was very tired and just wanted to have dinner. And they're not professors or headmistresses to fawn over! They're just students who haven't even seen life yet. Also, this stabbing pain in her side was literally keeping her from breathing...

Hurrying to the open doors, Irene stared at the shoes. The shoes were very beautiful: dark, with a small heel and insanely comfortable! A severe blow. Irene felt a pain. She heard ringing in the ears. She slowly raised her head, and the first thing she saw was long platinum hair, a small dark green badge and a patch indicating that the person belonged to the Slytherin house. There was no desire to ruin a relationship that hadn't even begun with another potential classmate.

"Excuse me," Irene said as politely as she could.

A piece of shepherd's pie was imprinted on the young man's black robe.

"Oh, shit," Irene grinned idiotically.

She carefully brought her pale fingers to the scene of the crime and smiled guiltily.

"Here," she hummed, knocking the stuffing off with the flick, which flopped to the floor.

The student cast a contemptuous glance at the cause of the chaos. The gray-blue eyes were very beautiful, but cold enough to send shivers down her spine.

"Okay," Irene whispered, realizing that this was probably not going to work. There was a slight wave of the hand. "Scourgify!"

The remains of the food finally disappeared from the robe, and a perfectly indulgent smile slid across the young man's face. Irene stepped aside, because she had no desire at all to figure out who should concede. The tall young man, like Kai from the Muggle fairy tale about the Snow Queen, which of course every child living in Germany knew, made his way into the hall.

"Arrogant poseur," Irene muttered under her breath and headed for the stairs, where a couple of little girls in Slytherin robes were standing. They were the ones to ask where the common room was.

In the dungeon.

In the corridor, which seemed to be a dead end, there was a wall that opened a secret passage leading to the common room. Fortunately, a pretty girl came up there at the same time as Irene.

"Pure blood," she said, and the door opened in a second.

Irene followed. The common room was tastefully furnished, with tapestries depicting the exploits of famous Slytherins in the Middle Ages hung on the walls, and antique dark wood sideboards by the walls. Despite the presence of fireplaces, the room seemed rather cool. The lighting, too, matched the setting: Magical lamps illuminated the space with a cold swampy light. Irene smiled at the realization that she liked it here already. The low-ceilinged guest rooms were right under the Black Lake. Chairs with dark green upholstery, low old dark green and black leather sofas stood next to the fireplace.

"I'm sorry," Irene called out to the girl. "I'm new here, and I would love it if you could show me where the girls' rooms are."

The girl turned around and looked at Irene with a surprised look, and then nodded friendly.

"Katherine Grace!" she smiled. "I saw you in the great hall, I suppose you should have been sent to Gryffindor."

"Irene! Irene Düster. That place was free, so I just took it. Yeah, and... The stress of the long journey must have affected my behavior... It was stupid of me."

"It was spectacular, I admit," Katherine laughed merrily and led Irene down into the depths of the dungeon to show her where the girls' room was. "You will soon see what's what, but my advice to you: Don't do that again. By the way, there's an empty bed right next to me, you can take it."

The girls entered the room. The first thing that caught Irene's eye was the very large distance between the beds with dark green curtains, which pleased Irene.

"Depulso!" A mountain of pillows flew off the empty bed to the floor. "Oh, those girls! They put theirs here because the place was empty. They'll come and pick them up."

"They're taking your orders, aren't they?" Irene sat down on the bed, dangling her legs. Her side prickled sharply.

Katherine rolled her eyes.

"I am the prefect of our house since this year. I've always wanted to be one! There is also a prefect from the guys. His name is Abraxas Malfoy," a smile touched her face.

"I saw him, I guess..." Since all students have patches, the badges obviously spoke about the status of the prefect. On Grace's chest was exactly the same as that of the young man whom Irene had safely smeared with pie. "A blonde with long hair, almost like yours."

"Yes," the smile from Katherine's face was not going to disappear. It was obvious that she liked him.

Irene was looking at a girl whose appearance was surprisingly attractive: blonde hair perfectly matched with bright blue eyes.

"But there is also the prefect of Hogwarts, he is also from our house, and it is better to obey him, I warn you at once." At these words Irene's heart began to beat slower, and Katherine's tone became very serious, "The best student of the school. Straight-Outstanding student. But he is very strict to himself and to others."

The girls spent the rest of the evening together, more on Katherine's initiative than on Irene's. The former turned out to be surprisingly talkative, and while Irene usually avoided such people, in this case their communication went surprisingly easy.

Irene told about her studies at the other two schools, and Katherine in turn explained who Irene should talk to and who she should stay away from. Gradually the room was filled with other students, and getting to know them was not a burden, because no one asked unnecessary, uncomfortable questions, which was certainly to Irene's liking.

Finally, the head touched the soft pillow. With a slight flick of the hand, the curtain slid down, enclosing the small space. The right side stung uncomfortably, and Irene threw back the blanket, and the next moment she saw that the band-aid had almost come off. The cut didn't seem to have healed at all. The thought that tomorrow she could apparate, and thus go to the apothecary for the necessary potions, calmed. How do Muggles live with a cut, for instance? Horrible. Irene wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Everything inside echoed some vague, but such a sweet feeling: I'm home. For some reason, absolutely everything here seemed so familiar that for the first time in all this time, Irene sincerely smiled, falling asleep on soft pillows under a dark green canopy that echoed her eyes. Or maybe she was just incredibly tired, dreaming of just sleeping like an ordinary student.