Chapter 2. Kwisatz Haderach.(EDITED)

When I was still falling asleep, I was worried about only one thing: that they would not find me. I was not afraid to freeze, because it was the middle of summer, and the nights were quite warm.

"Frank Herbert," I saw the name on the book, "Dune."

The cover was not very remarkable: it did not have a man with hypertrophied muscles, as on the covers of books about Conan or as on the new disc of the Manowar group, but it depicted some kind of pass between the rocks, along which, it seems, someone was walking on the sand ... The picture was blurred, and my own voice in my sleep sounded like a trumpet.

Looking at my hands, I was surprised: they were not mine. And there were women, girls, with well-groomed nails.

Hands opened the book, and I felt that I knew roughly what was written there.

But I couldn't think about it for a long time - the whole situation around has changed dramatically.

I was in a solid, albeit not very rich house. Something terrible was happening there, someone was pounding at the door.

"Take Iris and run through the back door," shouted his father, Adrian Blair.

"Is this my father?" - a thought flashed through my mind.

Then my mother, who was called Selena, grabbed me in her arms and rushed to the back door.

"What else is Selena?" - again the thought flashed inappropriately.

"And Adrian had a wand in his hands," I noted mechanically.

Mom ran to the door, flung it open and, carefully looking around to see if there was an ambush waiting here, she rushed to run.

Whoever burst into our house, father detained them for a short while. Having passed through the house, they found the back door and rushed in pursuit.

Mother could not leave them. Those terrible people were shouting something and laughing. For them, this chase was fun.

Mother put me off her hands on the ground.

"Run, Iris," she said with determination in her voice, and I ran.

Shouts and lights flashed from behind. I heard my mother scream. Some of the attackers began to argue with the main one. At least it seemed to me that he was.

But he only said: "We have no time to mess with this mudblood."

Then I heard somewhere in the distance a shout: "Avada Kedavra!", And a green light flashed behind me.

After this outbreak, I realized for sure that my parents were dead, and I, too, did not have long to live. It is very difficult for a child to escape from an adult healthy man, and his strength ends too quickly. I wanted to be somewhere far from here, where they wouldn't kill me. I ran, but they caught up with me, a little more, and my world would end. There has never been so much fear.

The world flashed before my eyes, and I found myself in the city. I would have been happy, but a coldness spread in my chest, and I did not want it at all and could not "could." Instead of the joy of being saved, there was the pain of losing parents and something else, perhaps even more important than them.

The picture changed again, and I saw how the policeman brought me to the shelter.

"So my mother grew up in an orphanage too," I realized.

Then I saw another scene.

It was in a bar or similar drinking and entertainment establishment.

My mother, passing by the mirror, looked into it, noting that she looked great. Indeed, the face was very beautiful, plump lips, a neat nose, large expressive eyes with a blue-green iris, a few yellow-green spots closer to the pupil and a darker blue-green to the periphery of the pupil. And all this is on a pretty face oval without a massive lower jaw or strongly protruding cheekbones, without the general elongation of the face, which is often the case with Englishwomen. Everything was proportional and very feminine. Dark blond hair was styled into a simple hairstyle.

"She looks like Iris Lowe," I noted mechanically.

Mom turned sideways to assess her figure. I don't know what she saw there, but I felt that she was not very happy, although, in my opinion, everything was just super.

The facial expression, combined with large eyes and lips in a relaxed state, but with slightly lowered corners, seemed either surprised or a little offended, but without a doubt sweet.

Taking a seat at the bar, my mother began to look around the room until she caught her eye on a strange young man who was getting drunk sitting alone. No one seemed to notice him until he attracted attention himself. But even when attracted, it did not last longer than necessary, for example, to pour more whiskey for a strange visitor.

The man was young and very attractive. This type reminded me of someone.

My mother did not consider this young man for a long time; as soon as she looked at her, she decided.

It is difficult to say what it was - an impulse of the soul, love at first sight, or just interest in that world, the entrance to which was closed for her many years ago, when she miraculously escaped from terrible robbers. Escaped, but "burned out".

As she expected, this guy turned out to be a wizard, his name was "Sirius", as the brightest star in the constellation of the Dog - he just said so. He also told Iris about his friend, who got the most beautiful girl from the faculty where they studied, and which he really liked. He admitted that he was very jealous, considered himself deprived because of this.

So, word for word, Iris got Sirius talking and then began to console him.

It didn't matter to her that it was Black, she didn't even know his last name. Although the scanty knowledge that she retained about the world of magic should have been enough to remember such names as, for example, Dumbledore or Black.

In the morning Sirius left in English, without saying goodbye while Mom was still asleep. It's good that the room has already been paid for. She did not see him again, but she often recalled. For Iris, this short affair had consequences.

"It's clear who he reminds me of, just look in the mirror," I summed up.

For the mother, it became an opportunity to somehow return to the world of magic.

Having lost her magic in childhood, she did not have time to "sip on fairy tales," and that world seemed, if not paradise, then something close. Even if there are evil wizards in him, whose actions she felt by her own example - but good always triumphs over evil. Mom believed it.

I saw the last episode from my own perspective.

- I will call you Arrakis, as a planet. And if you were a girl, you would become Dune.

"Oh-oh-oh, now it's clear where I got such a strange name. Well, thank you, maman, for not "Harkonen", otherwise I would have left kharki everywhere, "I thought with offense. But nothing could be changed, then the affairs of the past.

I realized that my mother was "burned out", but a small drop of magic remained with her. This drop was enough to win over almost any person, well, if he is not a magician. Therefore, she was able to get a job in a decent company for the job of a secretary with a good salary, which was quite simple with the ability to dispose of herself and attractive appearance. In addition to the ability to arrange, the mother knew how to "push away", which also made it possible to maintain a distance.

She still hoped to meet the very same wizard to say that he had a son, so she did not even plan to get along with anyone else. But fate was not destined to meet Sirius again.

I woke up from the cold. All muscles were numb, and the body ached like a hundred-year old man. Nobody found or disturbed me. I attributed such luck to the action of magic, which fulfilled my desire.

Having warmed up a little, I decided to sum up and look for something to eat. I wanted to eat incredibly, it seemed that the stomach was already digesting itself. What to do? Magic requires a lot of energy. But they could not find food. The first thing that came to mind was theft, but for those who do not know this business is very risky. I decided to start looking for a job.

Nobody was in a hurry to take a small bag to work. At the bakery, the salesman threatened to call some Bobby, after which I preferred to give a streak, only the heels flickered. The shoemaker refused in the shoe store, saying that he had no feasible job for a child, and he was basically not ready to entrust the sale to someone unknown. After wandering around the city for several hours and receiving several more refusals in different ways, I looked into a small cafe, where luck still smiled at me.

There were not very many visitors, but there was no downtime either. The owner of the establishment, most likely, simply regretted me - I made this conclusion because I did not see a special need for an additional employee.

Henry Lawson, the proprietor of the cafe, handled cooking and various general organizational matters related to management. Henry's grown-up daughter, Miranda, was already engaged in calculations and room service. Henry's wife, Martha, was engaged in general household affairs, helped everyone, and it seemed at times that she was in charge of the cafe, and not Henry at all.

Having learned the name of the daughter of the owner of the cafe, I remembered the game "Mass Effect" from that other world, as if a switch had switched in my head. Looking closely at the daughter of the owner of the cafe, I decided that this was just a coincidence. That Miranda had dark hair, and this one was blonde.

"Although, if you dye your hair, it will look like," I thought, but immediately discarded the thought. Why such speculation - it's a different world, a different time.

I was put to wash dishes and floors. The work is not very hard, but all day you get so tired that by the evening you fall off your feet. While I was busy with the dishes, I managed to grab something from the leftovers, so I was not completely hungry. Henry did not pay me money, but he fed me breakfast and dinner, and also allowed me to sleep in the rest room and gave me a wash at home.

Until the end of the summer I lived in a cafe and had time to think about something.

As I understood from the very beginning, I am in the world of Harry Potter. Most likely, I am a character in one of the thousands of fanfictions. Joke.

On the positive side, I can say that the world is "familiar", and I can assume with a high degree of probability what will happen in advance. Negative detail: I was not in this world. It just didn't exist. And apparently, in the main outline of events, Iris was unable to transgress and died in the same place where her parents were. I was simply not born. This already brings the factor of uncertainty into history, changes the course of events - Bradbury's butterfly and blah-blah-blah.

It is definitely good that I am a wizard in this world. But there and then the facts darkening this good news: I am an orphan, but inside there is an obscura. The first is bad in itself: no one will intercede, will not help in difficult times, no one will console - you should take care of yourself. Obscura is a problem. I have not heard that with an obscura inside it was possible to wield normal magic. Or is it possible? It is also quite obvious that my ejection took place after the awakening of the obscura.

The first blowout was rather late - I was more than three years old, while children, sometimes, are satisfied with them from two. I frightened my adoptive parents with mine, and they returned me to the orphanage, telling the tale that they were "just wrong." Then the "obliviators" came and cleaned the ends.

I did not remember what happened, but at some deep level I pressed the magic in me. If I remembered and did it consciously, the obscura would have formed earlier. Most likely, in this case, the magic parasite would kill me.

Obscuri is bad, he can still do it, but the magic release then happened incredibly in time: it seems that at the moment of the first formation of the obscura, my magic core was conditionally divided into a light and dark part, becoming double, and the obscura itself somehow calmed ... Now he was something like schizophrenia, a split personality, but he didn't have much of his own character. I did not know any exact data about its nature, and had only my own assumptions.

Obscurus appears from suppressing magic when the little wizard hates his own. Negative emotions are very important for formation, from which spiritual strength is taken to start formation.

I was lucky that I wasn't much tyrannized at the shelter.

The obscura was formed within my "I" in the form of an integral formation, absorbing all the darkest thoughts and feelings. One could say that he is also me, but no: he was more like an animal, like a ferocious predator, with which I have yet to deal. I'll figure it out with time.

Another bad news was that I left traces of myself. On the bodies of the victims of the obscura, as far as I remember, there are characteristic traces - dark spots with chipped, like from acid. For an ignorant person, such a nature of the wounds will be incomprehensible, while an experienced person will immediately understand what is happening.

Of course, Obscura is not a very common occurrence, and it is likely that the Aurors and Obliviators who arrive at the scene will simply not determine the cause. But then they may well turn to the Department of Mysteries, where the reason will most likely be determined. And this means that I will soon be exposed, they will put me in the laboratory and there will be no Hogwarts.

So I lived in fear that the Aurors would soon come for me.

More bad news: since the kernel has shared, I am weaker than I should have been. But, fortunately, the magic remained. Ordinary wizards, as far as I understand, do not directly determine the level of powers, they can judge this only by indirect signs - how easily spells are given, how quickly magic responds to various actions.

But the best news for me was "Kwisatz Haderach" - the ability to look into genetic memory. I didn't read genes or anything like that, but somehow lived moments from the life of my ancestors, sharing thoughts and emotions with them at that moment. Definitely my hitter's piano.

The origin of this gift of magic can only be explained by the incredible passion of mother Dune. Paul Atreides had such an imbecile ability. But why magic responded to her desire and gave me such a gift is unknown.

Thanks to this ability, I will learn magic faster and, perhaps, I will be able to reveal several secrets of my family, or rather, families.

The role of this ability pales a little from the restriction to read only the memory of their direct ancestors. The knowledge of any grand-nephews and great-cousins ​​of my grandfather is by no means accessible to me. Another drop of tar in a barrel of honey gives the sad realization that the memory of ancestors is available only until the line of descendants in my direction was continued, then history will be covered with darkness. For example, I can remember everything about Sirius - almost everything - until the moment he spent the night with Iris, which passed on his genes to me. Well, maybe a little more after this point.

But nothing, if Iris was a squib since childhood, then Sirius was still a wizard and was able to do something. He mastered the same Animagus while still at Hogwarts, which means that this memory will be available. On the Blacks side, there are also older representatives in the genetic memory - the same Orion, Sirius's father, made up my dad at a very mature age, he was under thirty or so. His memory will be available until the same age. Maybe, if you dig around, you will find older relatives, but the main thing is that there are knowledgeable ones.

I put my ability first on development. While she manifested herself spontaneously or in dreams, I could not control her, choose what to watch - not TV, tea, but hoped over time to learn how to "switch channels", choose the topic of knowledge that I would like to see.

The Obscurus lurked and did not show itself in any way. Only at the border of sensations did I sometimes feel his movement - like a dog tossing and turning in a booth and grumble.

At the same time, I realized why Potter did not become an Obscura despite the conditions of detention. He was convinced that magic does not exist, so he seemed to suppress nothing in himself, and in his opinion it all happened.

And at the end of the summer, Henry brought in a policeman and turned me in. He apologized, said that he could no longer shelter me. The most active season for the cafe was coming to an end, there will be few visitors. Let Miranda go to study, but he himself will be able to serve those rare visitors, and he will no longer have money for someone else's child.

I don't blame Henry, he's right in many ways, but he could have given him a choice, such as a chance to escape.

Contrary to my fears, when I was returned to the orphanage, I learned that nothing strange had happened there. There was a gas explosion, injuring Mrs. Warren and her son, who are still in the hospital. Nobody connected my escape with this incident.

Living in the shelter after the incident was as simple and easy as before. Nobody touched, nobody pressed, studied well, even better, carried out instructions of teachers responsibly. Everyone was in good standing and Mrs. Warren never came back.