10

By the time I got out of the corridor, it was late at night, so I decided to do something about it. Mr Filch is always on duty at night, so it is easy to find him at night. Hiding in one of the many alcoves, he applied a henge, thought it through to the last detail, and created some otherworldly light around the figure. And the image was finished. He was a tall man in his forties, stately, with a straight back and the gestures of an aristocrat, as I remembered from one of those worlds where etiquette was literally hammered into me with a stick. He had black hair, slightly grey at the shoulders, neatly combed back. A small beard and moustache. He wore a perfectly tailored suit with scales on it. The right side of the suit is purple and the left is red. At the waist there is a leather belt with a golden buckle depicting a demon with horns and fangs. The shoulders are patterned with black ovals that turn into vertical stripes on the chest. On his legs are black trousers with white vertical stripes. In his hands he held a black stick with a top in the shape of moustached men with wide open mouths. A strange, otherworldly light glowed inside. Waving it around in his right hand, Wabbajek, or an exact replica of him, transfigured by the sword of one of the armour-bearers standing in the corridor, smiled slightly, stepped out of the niche and walked boldly down the corridor.

The two upperclassmen I encountered almost collapsed against the wall in fright, and I took a wide-brimmed, feathered hat in my right hand and placed it on my head with a slight bow.

- Excuse me, young man and lady, have you seen a patrolling cat or its master? I have something to tell him," the students shook their heads in disapproval. - Very well then. Cheese?

And with a bang, a piece of cheese formed in my hand. The boy rolled his eyes and fainted, to the horror of the girl behind him, who had to pick him up.

- What a cowardly lot of young people these days," I grimaced, evaporated the cheese from my hand, touched the brim of my hat and walked on.

It took me quite a while to find Filch... and frighten a few more students by sneaking into their living rooms. And getting rid of a ghost that had become attached to me, all eager to meet the 'new guy'. But one gesture to Wabbajack and a holy light washed over him and then I played ghost baseball. He was the ball and Wabbajack was the bat. He soon realised that I didn't need his company and ran away angrily through the wall somewhere. And I mended my suit, which I didn't really need, and went on my way.

Filch was found when, on the first floor, I heard him screaming. He had apparently caught the curfew-breakers and was about to give them a qualitative reprimand and order them to clean the school. As he rounded the corner, he saw a red-haired Ron Weasley and Hermione, who just winced at the remarks and lowered their shoulders in silence.

- Hey! Filch! Just the senile old fool I've been looking for! - ...as soon as he spotted me.

- Who are you? - he asked in a bewildered voice, and I took off my hat and opened my arms in a welcoming embrace.

- It is I! Your brother, the bastard son of your father's mistress! Sheogorath! - You should have seen the looks on Ron, Hermione and Filch's faces when I spoke! I wish I'd brought my camera!

- Uh-uh, I'm sorry, but I think you've made a mistake...

- Oh! Come on, mate, have some cheese," and with a swing he silenced the commandant with a piece of cheese that appeared in his hand. - And you children, run along, run along. Otherwise my brother looks like my father, he is a grumpy fellow! - ...they looked at me and then at Filch, who tried to spit out the cheese. - Cheese?

That last part of the sentence seemed to trigger them, and they shook their heads in disapproval and dashed down the corridor to the living room. I turned to the caretaker and, with a flick of my fingers, dissolved the cheese in his mouth.

- What do you think you're doing, mister!

- Sheo, just Sheo! - and my face immediately broke into the most charming of smiles. - And I allow myself... a lot of things, that's right. Cheese?

- I don't want your cheese! What right have you to interfere?

- Anyway, old man, do you want to be a magician? - I interrupted him, pulling a custard tart out of the air and biting into it with gusto. He puffed up at first at being interrupted, then turned white when he heard me, and puffed up again at the end. And then he spoke more normally.

- What, are you trying to make fun of a frail old man too? Not enough beer for me, but another ghostly prankster...

- And I'm not joking,' I poked him in his puny chest with my wabbajack. - And I'm no ghost, I'm a Daedra. The terrible and great Sheogorath, Lord of Madness! Let us meet," he said, holding out his hand for a shake. He looked at me in surprise, sighed, but decided to shake it anyway. And what a shock it was, to say the least, when his hand didn't go through mine. It was a firm, strong palm in a purple glove. - Cheese?

I said in a desperate voice, my orange eyes shining with an erect pupil. As I watched, the old man clutched his heart and fell to the stone floor.

- No-no! Don't let me die of a heart attack here! - The old man, who had picked him up by the collar, touched his hand, which was glowing with green light iryoninjutsu, to his chest, triggering and stimulating his heart. He inhaled convulsively and his face took on a healthier complexion.

- That's better," I nodded, loosening the collar of his robes as I helped him to his feet.

- Cheese? - I repeated, and Filch recoiled.

- W-w-who w-w-who are you? - he shrieked almost hysterically.

- Well, holy slippers, Aedra! I introduced myself! Have you not? What a bore you are. I am Sheogorath! Lord Daedra! Lord of Madness! And I am your brother-in-law! - He grunted at the last part and then replied.

- It can't be!

- That's right, it can't be. I may not be your brother, but I am still the Lord of Madness. And Sheogorath... what is wrong with this world? No one believes me! Must I assume my true form? I don't want to! I certainly don't want this look! But I don't want to be a chicken either... what's a chicken got to do with it? Damn stick! - I ended by blaming my walking stick. And Filch, who was standing next to me, didn't understand at all. - Oh, all right! In short, do you want to be a wizard again? Yes or no? Just answer me!

- Is it-is it-is it possible?

- Anything is possible! - I replied, grinning madly. - I am the Lord of Madness, don't you see? Anything that's impossible is no problem for me, madness is infinite and boundless! And I will give you magic! In all its glory and madness! All you have to do for me in return is take this crap," and I pushed the obviously lost Wabbajack into my sentences. - And may magic be yours! Keep the muck to yourself, though you may lose it, though that's impossible. But try and see if it works. For thousands of years I never did... well, keep the magic and get rid of it. The main thing is to renew your skills! Goodbye!

I applied the shunshin and disappeared out of sight of the uncomprehending caretaker. But then, barely stopping my hand in front of his face lest the blow scatter the henge, I was back. Filch was looking at the wand. And flinched when I appeared beside him.

- Oh, I forgot, your health is bad! And if you die quickly, this stuff will come back to me. So..." I grabbed the steward, put him on my shoulder, and almost immediately we were in his room, where I unloaded the staff-wielding steward onto the bed. - Here comes the treatment! - and revealed an enema in my hand. The size of a watermelon. Filch's eyes widened in horror.

- What the hell am I supposed to do with this? - he said, thrusting it at the enema and immediately tossing it into the corner. Another flick of the wrist and there was a litre syringe with a ten centimetre needle in it. The poor caretaker almost had another heart attack when he saw the syringe, but it didn't work, I patched his heart up properly. - What am I going to do, vaccinate him?! Where the hell is it?! - He threw the syringe in the same place as the enema, waved his hand and disappeared halfway down the hall. And the desperately pale bellboy stared at my lower body, my upper body seemingly sawed off. He could actually see the spine, the intestines and all the rest of the body's innards, and yet the lower part was moving, there was no blood coming out of the wound. And then bang! I was safe and sound again! When I saw the grey-brown, raspberry-haired henchman, I asked:

- Cheese?

- Let's..." the shopkeeper relented and, surprised at his agreement, I handed him a piece of cheese. He took it, examined it and put it on the table.

- That's the one! - I said, showing Filch the blue capsule. - And there's another one! - I showed a red capsule in my left hand. - In short, you swallow the blue one and hello, magic! I'll patch you up nicely, and you'll even lose a few years. Swallow the red one and you'll forget all about this evening and me! The second one is tempting, isn't it? Many have taken the second, Pelagius so sure... but it's not about him now, is it? Take your pick! - He slipped two palms under the old man's nose. He looked at them, at me, at me, and suddenly he said.

- Can I have two?

- No! I know I look great and I'm unforgettable, but you can only choose one! Your choice: Magic or forget me!

Filch, after some thought, took the blue capsule and I handed him a goblet of wine. He swallowed the capsule and downed the wine, his eyes bulging, and he made such a speech that I immediately grabbed a notebook and started jotting down particularly tricky phrases. Why? I hadn't heard much cursing from mages before, so it was interesting to refresh my vocabulary. When the old man caught his breath, he staggered like a drunk and decided to collapse on the floor, but I picked him up and gently laid him on the bed. And then my palms were enveloped in green light and I set about treating his old, crumbling carcass. There was a lot of work to do. He needed to be treated for liver and kidney stones, his heart, veins and arteries cleaned, marasmus removed, his brain improved, his eyesight corrected, his stomach repaired and so on. I got carried away at the end and only stopped when I realised that Filch didn't look like himself at all. He'd lost about thirty years, his hair, teeth and wrinkles were gone. He didn't look more than forty now. Too much, but come on, am I a Sheogorat or not?! After all?! No, but it doesn't matter!

When I had finished working on his body, I took traces of energy from the castle and transplanted them into him, literally watching as his energy channels came alive and filled with energy, and the almost extinguished source of magic came back to life slightly. Once the magic had filled his body and all the magic channels, and I was sure he was all right, Shunshin moved to my room and collapsed on the bed after putting the henge away. To sleep!!!

And by the bunk of the badly rejuvenated Quartermaster was a parchment sheet on the bedside table with a message for him when he woke up. At the head of the bed, the staff flashed with an unearthly light, and an unearthly, mad laughter swept through the sleeping old man's room...