2

I woke up suddenly. A strange and forgotten sensation from my senses, from every nerve. It was like being in the water for a week and being abruptly thrown ashore, my body nailed firmly to the surface. But it was a kind of sensory shock only for the mind, not for the organs and brain, and so I withdrew extremely quickly. I was immediately aware of the lack of the familiar sensation of that strange space with the particles of "everything" in it.

I was staring at the unfamiliar ceiling and quickly decided to remember the dream. Yes, it was like a dream that I imagined the life of my body. A vague, blurred, strange dream that retained few details.

Helpless, perpetually "absent" from my body, unable to go to the toilet for a long time without help - that was exactly what I was. But even in that vegetative state, those brief periods of lucidity allowed the body to learn everything it needed to interact with the outside world and take care of itself. What a lot of suffering my current relatives went through, I must say!

With great difficulty and a cramp in my muscles that shouldn't be there, I lifted my head off the pillow and examined myself. A simple light-coloured pyjama suit, humanoid, human. A fountain of mixed and contradictory emotions poured into my head at once. The shards of elf memory resented his inferiority. The shards of dwarf memory resented the weakness of his feeble body. The memory of those accustomed to darkness complained of light, and so forth. Shards of numerous animals phoned with a desire to eat already, after all! The fragments of sentient beings from advanced universes were cursing the backwardness of the world, and the fragments of several mages of various races and branches were complaining about the unaccustomed energies around them. Hell, there was even resentment from shards of other genders! And only the largest shard, you could say the nucleus, around which the others lined up, was just happy to inhale the characteristic hospital smell with a dash of something strange, to see daylight, to feel the body, and just to live. It was a shame that I had lost a lot and that my past life was gaping holes, and the other shards were incapable of patching up those holes. No, there were many, very many, enough for hundreds of such holes, but they were different.

Each shard now felt like a part of me, as if it had once been "I". When I thought about it, I came to the logical conclusion that perhaps this was feel like a semblance of reincarnation. A life in the memory of the shards ended in death, in a strange space where you literally lose everything. Maybe after that you go to a new life, clean, without experience or memory, and then it's all over again. By some coincidence, I found myself able to absorb either someone else's or regain mine, lost over many lifetimes. It was a pity that it was not returned in full.

I looked around and noticed a small wardrobe with clothes next to the bed, a chalkboard scrawled with many symbols, a table with stacks of papers, and a chair. The room was small and looked more like a quarantine isolation ward - the walls were clearly not solid.

I tried to move my limbs. My mind was quickly regaining its skills. I was in the room for a couple of minutes before I got out of bed and changed into my usual clothes, which turned out to be stacked on the bedside table. Sports trousers, a T-shirt, socks, sneakers without laces, with elastic bands. To avoid untied shoelaces in my passed state?

A series of simultaneous contradictory sensations from different shards of my soul caused a headache from which I sat back down on the couch, starting to massage my temples. Something had to be done about that.

Memory... Don't think of it as a collection of pictures or something like that. It is a much more comprehensive, complex system of associations and responses to a particular external or internal stimulus. And so these reactions, they are incredibly contradictory and relate to everything from the body to the environment and scent. They throw up associative chains which give rise to images and thoughts which irritate the situation. Rejection of everything at the same time! This problem must be solved, and solved immediately.

Using the elven meditative technique, in the blink of an eye I fell into the void. I wished he could, but a massive multi-colored cloud appeared before my eyes. The problem was found at once - the superimposition of memories, one on top of the other. There were many such overlaps, and the reason was the lack of timestamps. Simply put, each shard was relevant right now, causing not only mush in the mind but also overloading of the brain by maximizing the load on neural connections.

Experience with mental techniques from shards belonging to wizards in some fantasy worlds suggested to me a method of creating a self-contained mental block to solve my problem. It wasn't easy to get to the right methods, because the images I needed were sometimes simply missing due to the incompleteness of the shards, but I sort of managed it. The mental unit itself will mark the following principle: from a simple organism to a complex one, from a less mentally developed one to a more mentally developed one. The last life of an ordinary person will be taken as the basis of personality. Yes, a lot is lost there, but even so he is the most whole, and simply the last. Everything else will be just a memory, like a dream that has been firmly remembered.

When I opened my eyes, I saw the following picture. Not far from my bunk, a suspicious gray-bearded old man in a purple robe was sitting in a chair, a composite image of fairy-tale wizards. Beside him stood a lady in her fifties, dressed as a kind of sister of mercy. It was familiar... Something familiar, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Though, the associations rather quickly began to lead me through the nooks and crannies of the images from the memory shards, supplementing the gaps from the other images. What a silly mess in the head - even thinking with difficulty!

My last name also sounds familiar to me... No, of course I know it, because it is mine. But as if I should know something from past lives, but it's gone. Like references to blank pages on the internet.

They looked at me intently, but were in no hurry to do anything.

"It seems, Poppy, the boy has finally come to his senses."

"I agree, Albus. A meaningful look, examining. Do you understand us, young man?"

"Hardly, Poppy," Albus shook his head disappointedly. "He was a bit… different from birth, after all."

"I understand," I murmured strangely, horrified by the way my lips and tongue moved grimly and clumsily. "It was like I was asleep. Like I was dreaming. A dream about my life."

I had to speak in stages, in short phrases, but even so, I felt that every sound uttered improved my ability to speak. That's how useful these elven techniques are for accelerating learning and restoring mental activity. The adaptation of skills to the body is incredibly fast! Or maybe it's because of something else.

Elven... Elven... the most controversial fragment of life in a thousand years. But it is as riddled and empty as it is vast. Inadvertently delving into unwinding associations through imagination, bodily sense and image representation, I was able to pick up a few sensations stretching across this shard for its entire length. The sensation of a bow handle in one hand, and an arrow between my fingers in the other. It was as if I could feel the tension of the bowstring for real, but I couldn't even approximately remember the shape of the bow, for example, or the face. They were gone. Nothing led to them. I could recreate the sensation from circumstantial evidence from other shards, but it would be just that, a recreation. Although, that is the basis of memory - impulses from neuron to neuron cause their excitation and response impulses already to other neurons, causing a simulated stimulus and response. This, of course, is by no means the whole mechanism, but it is the basis of the organism's memory, and it seems that the memory shards have triggered the corresponding development of the central nervous system...

"The dream turned out to be life," I went on to say, returning from thoughts to reality. "I remember a lot of things. It takes practice..."

"That is wonderful news!" The old gray-bearded man smiled happily, flashing his half glasses. - To tell you the truth, we have been looking forward to your awakening.

"Temper your ardor, Albus," the woman beside me glanced reproachfully at the old man. "Your verbal lace is inappropriate now. Keep it simple."

"You're right, Poppy. Habit. Do you know who you are?" The old man turned to me.

"A man of thirteen years, a wizard, Hector Granger."

"Family?"

"Parents, Emma and Robert Granger. Sister, Hermione Granger. Parents are dentists. Sister." due to finish her second year at Hogwarts School.

After looking around the room, I added:

"This school. Strange. It seemed like a dream. Real, but a dream. Turns out it wasn't a dream."

"Will you let us check on your well-being?"

"Yes, I am."

"Poppy?"

The woman didn't need to be reminded, so she took out her wand, and walked toward me, waving it in the air. I was curious, but the human eye was not adapted to detect the radiations of the magical range, so I didn't see any specifics. In the normal visual spectrum, I could see small waves of light distortion coming from the woman's wand to me. After a dozen seconds of silent manipulation, the woman stepped back towards the sitting and smiling old man.

"Everything is fine, Albus, except that brain activity has dropped quite a bit, but is still abnormally high. Lack of mass, thinness and some complex muscle underdevelopment. With that exception, everything is in perfect condition."

"That's great news. I had faith it would work out, and in your qualifications as well as Smethwyck's. We just need to observe for a couple of days, consolidate the results, and if there are no relapses or regression, Mr. Granger can be discharged."

This was said more obviously to me, for it was obvious from the eyes of the woman named Poppy that she had drawn the same conclusions herself.

"Can you introduce yourself?" I asked as I looked at them.

"Ah yes, no joy in growing old. I forgot," the old man smiled. "Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Poppy Pomfrey, a mediwitch, working in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. You're in this very wing, by the way."

"I see. Thank you. Hector Granger. You know. Is there food here?"

Albus chuckled and wished me nothing but good luck and left my room. Mediwitch Pomfrey promised a plentiful lunch in a few seconds, asked me to wait here and left as well. Lunch did indeed appear. Suddenly and on its own, taking up empty space on the table. Salads, meat dishes, side dishes, tea, juice, buns. Quite entertaining, as each dish requires a different approach to tableware wielding, rather than just paddling with a spoon. A test of skill? Perhaps, but I don't mind doing it myself. I'll get used to the body, what can I do.

After that visit, time flew by quite quickly. Madam Pomfrey visited me a lot, checking things out, casting spells, bringing potions, and talking about distracted subjects. More accurately, she asked, stimulating my desire to speak. Mostly about mundane things. On the one hand this allowed her to learn the extent of my awareness of the everyday life and realities around me, and on the other hand it was conversational practice. Although, by the third day I was able to speak comfortably, my muscles and ligaments of the speech apparatus were not tired by the unfamiliar strain, and my speech became smooth and competent, without distortions of sounds and other rubbish.

Physical activity in the form of simple movement in space or simply the correct use of cutlery, books, notebooks, pencils, all this was in relative normalcy, but complex motor skills and atypical movements were out of the question; the body in that respect was really underdeveloped and would take a long time to work on it. I am flexible, though.

The adjusted mental block had finished its work on the first day and now I was not torn by conflicting emotions arising at the same time. But that doesn't mean the shards have stopped affecting me at all, no. They are "I" and that "I" doesn't like... much. In order, because of the memory of the shards, I am simply dissatisfied with either side of the situation. A dwarf is supposed to be a strong warrior, a skilled smith, a shrewd businessman. From a young age. Strong and hardy. If not, it is better to go straight to the Deep Paths on the last journey and not disgrace the existence of the clan. As an elf, I should be skilled in the arts, flexible and agile, a deadly melee and ranged fighter, and possess a bunch of other skills and abilities. If not, one has to wonder about the meaning of immortal life, and whether to fertilise the mellirn with himself. And there's a whole wagonload of "ifs" like that. And only the human basis hints, "No talent at thirteen? Well, that's fine."

All week I've been trying to figure out how to go on living. Judging by this body's memories, I have to build relationships with my relatives, study at this Hogwarts, whatever it is, grow up and stuff. It's horrible. Just awful. But in any case, it's better than disappearing into nothingness.

After a week of Madam Pomfrey watching over me, old Dumbledore appeared in my makeshift hospital room and together we went to meet my parents. Through the fireplace. An amazing transport system that works on the principles of piercing space! And no, I didn't understand the basics of this system, but by some associations in shards of memory, I was able to understand at least what it was. Still, it's not clear to me how memory shards should be treated. They feel like I've experienced a live-action film, a kind of "total immersion" - once" sorted, a lot of it doesn't resonate emotionally and is more like information. Information worth studying properly.

By the fireplace we moved into a very unrepresentative drinking establishment, decorated in the style of an old tavern. The few patrons looked unkempt and even like bums, even though it was the late twentieth century, and these people were supposed to be wizards, I supposed. It's a terrible shame for a wizard to be so bum-like.

"The Leaky Cauldron," explained the Headmaster as we walked towards the exit of the hall. To the Headmaster, by the way, many nodded with a smile. - One of the few passageways into London's main magical street, Diagon Alley. I think Professor McGonagall will tell you more when you go shopping. Or would you prefer to go with your sister?"

"I don't know."

"It might be even better, though I know she was going to spend the rest of the holidays with her friends."

"Then I won't distract her."

After leaving the Leaky Cauldron, we found ourselves in a quite ordinary and era-appropriate street in London. People in ordinary casual clothes scurried back and forth, cars drove by, the technogenic noise hit my ears, and my sense of smell alarmed - the atmosphere of the metropolis might well give me a sensory shock when I'm not used to it.

"Here are your parents," the headmaster smiled and nodded towards the car parked nearby. An old Land Rover. Old even for today.

The Headmaster waved his hand in the air slightly and I felt a light energy fluctuation. The man and woman standing by the car, whom I vaguely remember, immediately turned their attention to the two of us.

"Headmaster Dumbledore?" The woman turned to the old man and shifted her gaze to me. "Hector?"

"Hello? I guess," I nodded without much emotion. And then the 'snot' began.

My mother, and it was she, because even a blind man would have noticed the resemblance of our faces, immediately rushed to me and hugged me and said something. Yes, it was the first time I'd ever seen my son look consciously and intelligently at me. My father was much more reserved, walking over and saying hello to the Headmaster. By the hand.

"Thank you for your help."

"As I said," the Headmaster smiled, "it wasn't difficult or costly and even without our help the boy would have recovered, albeit somewhat later."

After exchanging a few more words with the headmaster, my parents dragged me quickly into the car, and my mother sat beside me in the back seat, absolutely not going to let me out of her arms. I was as thin as a stick, so I wouldn't break anything.

When I got home, they showed me everything, even though I remembered everything. Then they sat me down at the table.

"You're so thin, what a nightmare," my mother wailed as she put some meat on my plate.

"I was like that before. I said - I remember everything."

My hands weren't very good at holding the fork properly, as my upbringing from the shards demanded, and I had to simplify my grip somewhat - the way my body had learned, being on autopilot.Yes, I know I'm holding my instruments the way a human is used to, but damn the elf shard! Even though it's almost empty, there are things that this elf did a lot more often than a human, because he's just lived longer.

"Needs more practice," I remarked aloud.

My parents looked at me with relief.

The whole day passed in a similar vein. I was shown around the house and given some "what's what and how to use it" training. To my surprise I noticed that some technical nuances, for example, remote control for television, at first arouse a little bit of confusion, but then, as if unwillingly, an understanding of the internal mechanism of the TV set on an electric beam tube, and the remote control came to my mind. And how to use it, of course.

Hermione. Sister. A girl like a girl. She's really gone to stay with friends now, and our parents are complaining that it's impossible to get in touch. You need a postal owl, and wizards have no other communication. Nonsense. Well, you don't go into someone else's monastery with your prayers.

Even though I had my birthday on the Fourth of July at Hogwarts, there was nothing stopping me from celebrating it again with tea and cake. By the twentieth, the excitement of my recovery had died down, and my parents stopped hovering around me all their free time, like fairy bears at a pot of honey. Now I was not only reading various books to check the completeness of my knowledge, but also able to think in solitude, and there were many things to think about.

The first was the physique. A healthy body has a healthy spirit, and that was not just a proverb. The condition of the body is very important to a magical being, which includes absolutely all organics with the gift of manipulating energies. When healer Smethwyck came to us, if my memory is not the best, he spoke of the "triad": body, soul, mind. The state of the soul has yet to be verified, the mind I have more or less put in order and what remains is the body.

At the moment I am the happy owner of a male body, thirteen years old. Somewhat taller than my peers, thin, mediocre muscles. My health was said to be fine, only my brain works abnormally hard. That needs to change. No, not in terms of brains, but physical condition, and there are several ways to help me. The classic of the genre is physical training. Add to that magical support in the form of potions and infusions. But first of all it is necessary to take care about diagnostics of the magical abilities and making connection to different energies. So we need to start with magic. What do I know about magic from the memories of the shards? Not much, and hardly any specifics - general facts and thoughts most often swirling in the minds of the shards. And a couple dozen tricks, just as often used, and therefore best "recorded".

In itself, magic is a complex sphere of conscious manipulation with various and diverse energies of the universe in order to change or embody various properties and aspects of reality. Simply put, magic is a discipline, sorcery is a process.

Since magic allows one to manipulate energies, a legitimate question arises: "What kind of energies?" As obvious as the answer is, it is simple - any kind. The elves proved in their time that all things are a form of energy. This fact is superimposed on the multidimensionality of reality and generates an infinite variety of energies of various kinds, currents and properties.

Multidimensionality? An infinite number of dimensions within a single space. Many of these dimensions are filled with certain energies whose names are as close as possible to embodied or related effects, properties and other edges of reality. For example, such trivialities as the energies of fire, water or electricity, life, light, darkness, death and the like. An immeasurable multitude. Some combine to form other, more complex ones, and some cannot be combined, like matter and antimatter - there will be a big ba-da-boom.

I yawned and decided it was time to go to sleep. As healthy as my body was, it could not boast of stamina. Yes, sleep...