Chapter 47: Echoes Beneath the Castle

[ September 2, 1973. Hogwarts. ]

It took me a couple of days to craft a rather useful artifact. This time, I did it myself — no need to rely on the magicomp for every little thing, or I'd get lazy fast. I only checked the finished result, fixed a few minor flaws that reduced mana costs, and made two prototypes of the artifact I called the Librarium.

As I'd planned, this wooden cylinder with a memory crystal inside let me copy books. You just had to touch the round end — with its miniature ritual circle — to a cover, and the tome's matrix would be inside. If you wanted, you could materialize it right away. Search and cataloging were also handled by the mind spirit. You could manage without it, but then you'd have to search for books by simple enumeration.

A metal ring encircled the cylinder's center — the connection to me and the magicomp. An idea popped into my head: if I gave Mother a ring, I could communicate with her anytime. Yeah, tunnel vision — it's like that, though the answer seemed to be right on the surface. But that's not the point. The problem was, if I went rummaging through all the books indiscriminately, it would be extremely suspicious.

What about creating a doppelganger and making it invisible? I didn't know what Hogwarts' charms were capable of. Speaking of which...

"Hal, what's the situation with Hogwarts?" I asked, stretching.

"No particular difficulties. The system is uncontrolled, as if the castle was created to be managed by a keeper, but there's no keeper. The only problem is the extreme deterioration of the castle's systems — sixty-three percent of charms and connections have various damages, ten percent of them critical and beyond repair." A semi-transparent projection of the castle appeared before me, with moving labeled people inside, connection lines, and points of various charms.

"Is that why heating only works in the common rooms?" I asked, rubbing my arms. The castle was chilly at night, and you had to light the fireplace.

"Correct. This system is one of the most worn out."

"Figures. Stone's a terrible insulator. No wonder everyone lines their rooms with wood and furs."

"Find anything interesting?" I asked, peering at the projection.

"Multiple hidden passages, living portraits acting as observers, and also that all the armor in the castle are golems."

"I expected that, but is there anything that stands out from the system?"

"The headmaster's office and a rather large basement room are cut off from observation. This doesn't look like an accident — more like intentional isolation. And there's also one door on the eighth floor. It seems to lead nowhere."

"In what sense?" I frowned.

"I don't know, but there's a door but no room. Very much like a connection to some separate space. Maybe it's a teleport, entrance to a spatial bubble, or someone's joke. Can't figure it out without additional research."

"Hm, then I'll go check it out now. By the way, can you intercept surveillance charms so my doppelganger would be invisible to them?"

"No, for that I'd need to penetrate the central node underground or the administrative one in the headmaster's office. However, they won't see him anyway since the doppelganger has no body. For the same reason, ghosts aren't detected either."

"Good. Hogwarts and its ghosts... What a combination. All that's missing is a necromancer's club." I grinned. "Thanks, Hal. See if you can find a way into the basement, and I'll check out the eighth floor."

"Understood, master."

I created a doppelganger on the ritual circle — after ten years of practice, I could only make first-level doppelgangers myself, which were almost completely useless — gave it the Librarium, and cast disillusionment, step-muffling, scent suppression, and eye-sliding charms. After saying goodbye through our connection to Dorothea, who had run off to play in the forest, I left Availon with the doppelganger.

Outside, less than half an hour had passed. Lunch was approaching, so after sending the doppelganger to the library, I went to the dining hall. This time, I sat at the Ravenclaw table so as not to show allegiance to any one house. The Durmstrang students, meanwhile, sat only at Slytherin.

I spotted Narcissa, chatting with Lucius and a plump redhead girl beside her. I asked Hal to show their names as illusions visible only to me — Alecto Carrow, it turned out. I also saw Severus Snape, looking as gloomy as ever.

"You have remarkably few Wrackspurts," a guy suddenly said, whose nameplate read Xenophilius Lovegood.

"What, excuse me?" I nearly choked on my pumpkin juice.

"Wrackspurts — they're creatures that feed on thoughts..." The guy looked a bit like Lucius Malfoy — same platinum blond, but with a dreamy, distracted air. His lilac shirt was half untucked, and his robe was buttoned with just one button. His gray eyes seemed to look right through you.

"Forgive Xeno, he talks about odd things, but he's a good person," smiled a beautiful girl across from me, her hair a lighter, more natural blond. "Pandora. Pandora Grey."

"Arthur Marlow. And I don't think your friend is strange," I said, testing a theory. "Tell me, do your Wrackspurts look like transparent fleas?"

"So you can see them?" Xeno's eyes went wide, as if a madman had just been told he was sane.

"Naturally. They're astral parasites. Feed on magical and mental energy. Though they have a different name — leprocorises, but yours is catchier."

"Wait, so these things are real?" Pandora asked, leaning in. "Why doesn't anyone else see them?"

"Family secret. But if you buy spectral lenses for artifactors, you'll see them too. They're pricey, though."

"What about the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, does it exist too?" Pandora asked, eyes shining with curiosity, while Xeno looked mortified.

"Of course it exists," I said, deadpan. "But it's not proper to show it to ladies on a first meeting. Especially with so many people around."

Richard Smith, my neighbor, burst out laughing. Then a second, a third, and soon the whole table was laughing — except for the blushing Xeno and Pandora, who didn't get the joke.

"And if we're alone, will you show me?" Pandora asked, completely serious. Even I couldn't help but laugh.

"Let's do it sometime later," I managed, still chuckling. I'd have to explain the joke to her later, so she wouldn't get into trouble.

After lunch — mashed potatoes and beef cutlet — I went... no, not to the eighth floor, but to the headmaster, who was just leaving the hall.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, may I steal a couple minutes of your time?" I caught up with him.

"Ah, the transfer student? Beauxbatons, Arthur Marlow, correct? Old age is no joy, so forgive me if I mixed something up." He stopped, stepping aside so as not to block the students.

"No, you're right. And you shouldn't put yourself down — a hundred years is nothing for a wizard." I smiled. As if a legilimens of his level would start losing memory — I'd believe that.

"I wanted to ask your permission to hire a house-elf. We have few in France, and even for money they're hard to find."

"You can use Hogwarts' house-elves." — who report to you, of course.

"My mother is pregnant, and I'd like to hire her an assistant. You understand how hard it is for a woman alone, especially in her condition."

"You do know how much it costs? And are you ready to take responsibility for a living being?" His half-moon glasses glinted, and I felt a gentle probe at my thoughts — not a mind attack, just a passive empath's reading.

"Ready, headmaster. My mother is a veela, so I treat all magical creatures the same as people." And that was true — I'd curse a criminal from any species equally.

"Well, since it's for a good cause, choose a willing house-elf to enter your service and contact Minerva McGonagall — she'll tell you what to do next," he said, smiling, and walked off.

What was that? He's strange, like all powerful wizards. No, obviously he was probing me, but too halfheartedly. Or maybe I'm just overthinking, and nobody cares about me at all? Who knows.

***

The eighth floor was a corridor lined with abandoned classrooms. All lessons are on lower floors now, except astronomy in the highest tower. Just proves there used to be more subjects — ritual magic, fencing, healing, artifactory, necromancy, elemental magic, and a long list of others, now either banned or lacking teachers. Sad — the title of Master has become an unattainable height, unless you're a genius or have a private tutor.

That's one reason I want to make magicogiators. Wizards spend lifetimes reinventing charms that already exist, gathering dust in pure-blood libraries. With this device, you could cut development time by decades. And if someone invents a dangerous spell or magical virus, an antidote could be found just as quickly.

But I'll have to be subtle — if I make all artifacts with mind copies or surveillance, some angry magister will come knocking. No, subtlety is key.

Back to the door that was a wall. Nearby was a painting of dancing trolls, and a connection ran from the door to it. The painting had a mental reader — nothing dangerous, just reads surface thoughts. What are you hiding, you pest?

I was about to use diagnostic charms when the door appeared. Ordinary, wooden, as if it had always been there. I created a doppelganger, made it open the door, and watched through its eyes.

Inside was a gigantic room, the size of an aircraft hangar, filled with piles of junk. So it showed me exactly what I was thinking about? That is, exactly what it was hiding?

Withdrawing the doppelganger, I decided to experiment — thought about the library. The door vanished, then reappeared, and the doppelganger saw a copy of the Hogwarts library.

"Hold the door," I told the double, stepping inside and examining with true sight. The room wasn't real, but made of solid illusions — just like Availon. I picked up a book; it could be read normally. Some volumes were forbidden, not in the accessible section.

So I'm not the first to copy and embody matrices into reality. Interesting. But I didn't recall the old doppelganger copying books in the library. I'd need to send it here later and compare — maybe it's a clever fake.

Apparently, the room connects to Hogwarts, but Hal can't see it. Suggests there's a general network, and also a closed one. Diagnostic charms still didn't show how the space was made. Either there are many rooms, or it's one transforming space.

You can't research it from inside, and outside there's only the door. The main artifact core is probably hidden in that room with junk — only there, after several experiments, were there real objects and walls.

"Master, I found something strange," Hal interrupted.

"Good job, what is it?"

"The thickness of some walls is much greater than it should be, and some places that are on the map aren't visible to charms."

"For example?"

"The girls' bathroom on the second floor, Slytherin common room and dormitories, the prefects' bathroom," Hal answered.

"Wait, so the other places are visible? Girls' showers and other bathrooms, for example?"

"Correct."

Interesting — is this intentional, or just a side effect of the castle's reconstruction? If the headmaster wants to look at naked students, let him. Still, I'll keep this info for the future. What if I have a conflict with Dumbledore? Anyway, time to move on. "Another oddity is some sewage pipes."

"What's wrong with them?"

"The space inside them is expanded very strongly — up to two meters in diameter."

"And what's the problem? Yes, it's a lot, but many wizards overdo it, myself included."

"It's not just excessive expansion — these pipes are simply unnecessary, since waste has been destroyed by vanishing charms since the castle's creation. And the pipes were welded in later."

"Let me guess, and these expanded pipes end up in unventilated places?"

"You guessed correctly, master."

"All right — track suspicious movements of people and not only around me, try to find out if anyone is watching me or, conversely, specifically avoiding me." I returned to my room, made another doppelganger, and sent it with the Librarium to that transforming room with the library — let it copy matrices.

It's a long process, even though the copying itself is instant — there are more than a thousand books here. I went to check the strange places. My wandering around the castle might look odd, but it fits the behavior of a new student, especially since I moved in zigzags and visited some classes for five to ten minutes.

I didn't learn anything new in them, but made some conclusions thanks to Hal's observations. Cheerful Filius Flitwick — charms; young, beautiful, and strict Septima Vector — arithmancy; good-natured Pomona Sprout — herbology; Bathsheba Babbling — runes; funny, fat Horace Slughorn — potions; one-eyed, one-armed Silvanus Kettleburn — care of magical creatures. All of them teach their subjects well.

The exception was the transfiguration teacher, Gryffindor head and deputy headmistress, whom I needed to contact about the house-elf — Minerva McGonagall. She teaches dryly, quickly, using professional terms she doesn't explain, and mostly retells the textbook. Her feelings toward children are... let's say, indifferent.

Hal overheard that she only comes if someone loses a lot of points. Turning to her with your problems is useless — she'll listen, say she'll look into it, but won't do anything. Like with the marauders, who get away with everything. What a name they chose for themselves. Only maniacs would be worse.

Another exception was Defense Against the Dark Arts — Ethan French. I'd heard rumors about a curse on the position, but didn't think it was this bad. The guy just dictated from the textbook and looked nervous. The problem could be solved by renaming the class to "combat magic," but apparently, bureaucracy or the headmaster's own reluctance prevents this.

The last exception was history professor Cuthbert Binns, who had died a little bit. And, not noticing his premature demise, continued teaching. Here I don't understand Dumbledore at all. I get wanting to save money, but not at the expense of education! Children literally sleep in his classes.

No wonder a great Russian scientist said: "A people who don't know their past have no future." If you look for conspiracy, it seems the headmaster is raising easily manipulated weak wizards.

General lowering of education, increased bans on magic, children not knowing how to protect themselves or their history, and artificially inflamed house rivalries.

Why artificial? Narcissa gave me the schedule — in nine out of ten paired lessons, Slytherin is with Gryffindor. The headmaster needs escalation — divide and rule. It's easier to recruit supporters from chaos than from neutral, self-sufficient Ravenclaws.

But back to McGonagall. While my doppelgangers collected libraries, I waited for the end of the fourth year's last lesson, and when the students came out, I knocked on the door.

"Come in," she called, and I entered. A woman with chestnut hair in a bun, blue eyes, and thin, perpetually pursed lips, looked about forty. Not unattractive — dress her in a fitted dress and a little makeup, and she'd be in her prime. But she aged herself with her robes and behavior.

I also felt she was very, very tired. Maybe I was too harsh, drawing conclusions from Hal's limited analysis?

"Good evening, Professor McGonagall. Would it be offensive to say you look excellent today?" I tried a gentle smile. She blinked, then actually smiled — a real one, not the tight-lipped version.

"You're a flatterer, Mr. Marlow," she said, a little color rising in her cheeks. "So, what brings you to my lair? Classes are over."

"Honestly, I have a request. Headmaster Dumbledore gave me permission to acquire a house-elf and sent me to you." Her smile faded a bit, but didn't disappear. My compliment had been pleasant, but realizing I hadn't come for her sake soured it.

"Or did he make a mistake?"

"No, he didn't. Let's go to my office." She gathered a stack of parchment, shrank it with a nonverbal Reducio, and headed for the door.

"I see you have a lot of work. I heard you're also deputy headmistress?"

"Yes, there's plenty. Want to offer your help?" She glanced at me, half-amused, half-skeptical.

"Why not, if occasionally?" I shrugged. For me, time in reality doesn't mean much. But officially getting access to Hogwarts documents would be nice. And it'd let me give her an artifact as a gift without it seeming inappropriate.

"I admit, I didn't expect that. But what about your studies?" She gave me a sharp look.

"No need to worry, I've already completed the entire fifth year."

"Then why transfer to Hogwarts?"

"To see the world, meet new people. I heard Hogwarts has the largest library in Europe and excellent teachers." I smiled again. "And it's good for broadening one's horizons."

"Commendable, young man," she said, opening a door near the Gryffindor common room. Inside were shelves crammed with books and folders. Opposite the door stood a large oak desk, buried under parchment.

No wonder she has no time for herself or her house.

"You could use an assistant — better yet, two. At Beauxbatons, it's common practice. Assistants often teach younger years," I said, following her in.

"Good practice," she sighed, summoning a folder and pulling out a sheet. "But we're not Beauxbatons. Sit and fill out the application. Do you have the money?"

"Yes, of course." I sat in the visitor's chair, which had clearly been repaired more than once, and with a tap of my wand, filled out the parchment. Nothing complicated. I handed over a bag of money and the application.

"Now I believe you could pass your O.W.L.s with that charm control," she said, nodding at the parchment, and pulled a medallion from her desk. "Give this to the chosen house-elf, and the free contract will be severed."

"Well, since we've settled that, let me help you."

"So you weren't joking?" She looked genuinely surprised.

"Of course not. What kind of wizard throws around promises?" In about an hour, I helped her deal with half the paperwork. My mental magic was at eidetic memory level — I just needed to glance at a sheet to read it, then analyze the mistakes. Turns out, searching for others' mistakes is a great way to learn. If only they weren't so repetitive and obvious.

Finishing, I bowed to a grateful Minerva and went to dinner, which I spent with the friendly Hufflepuffs. I don't know if the hat really sorts by character or if the "rejects" reputation brings them together, but they were the simplest and most unpretentious.

An hour after dinner, the first doppelganger returned, and two hours later — the second. I dispersed them and gave Hal the task of filtering and indexing the books, while I began preparing for a nighttime foray to the "strange" places.

***

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Thank you for the help with the power stones!!!