Chapter 32 Third test.

Whatever one may do or wag, and having contacted a vampire you will always return to the topic of blood. Literally, this means that I started experiments with taking a memory potion with Sheldon's blood. I will not say that there was no result at all, but I did not get what I wanted either.

Even at the very early stages of assessing the danger from taking blood, a vampire assessed his chance of infection as very low. To turn into a bloodsucker, you need to drink a hundred grams of vampire blood. When the dose is halved, the circulation will be very slow, the body's resistance will be very strong and the case will most likely end in exhaustion and death even before the key changes take place. All this will lead to the fact that the vampire will not work, but you will get a ghoul. Vampires use these creatures as loyal servants, feeding them with their blood from time to time to keep them mentally degraded.

But ghouls aren't the only under-vampires that can result from improper transformation. In addition to ghouls, there is another version of the under-converted vampire, something like a zombie. Actually, if a ghoul drinks the blood of a vampire, then sooner or later he will move to the quality level of a vampire, and if not, he will slide down to the level of a zombie.

If a person drinks very little vampire blood, then his immune system (often) will be able to overcome the infection. Having been ill, the person slightly increased the resistance to circulation. Once upon a time there was an order of vampire hunters who worked to empower their fighters by instilling resistance to circulation and pumping them with vampire blood before battle. These warriors temporarily became ghouls, which in strength and speed brought them closer to vampires, making it possible to fight almost on an equal footing.

Knowing all this about the blood of vampires and carrying out additional research, I was almost sure of the safety of taking the potion. But there was still a little fear. There is always a risk.

Blood. There is blood everywhere. It's so dark that you gouge out your eyes, nothing will change. You can only hear the blood dripping down somewhere in large drops. Drip-drip-drip.

How do I know it's blood? I just know.

Rising to his feet, he tried to walk just randomly choosing the direction. With my arms outstretched, I blindly took a couple of steps until my hand touched something. Having felt the object, I realized that it was a body, suspended by its legs, a body hanging upside down. After examining the find, he determined that blood was draining from this body. But now I heard another drops. Having listened, I realized that I could determine from the rare drops of drops where the bodies were still suspended.

It was not scary. I was only slightly surprised at the absence of disgust, which should have been. The darkness did not brighten at all, but began to feel differently, near the bodies it trembled, which made it possible not to bump into obstacles. The trembling was not perceived by the eyes, but my mind persistently visualized these sensations, creating a surrogate analogue of sight.

Having touched the body, I tried to feel at least something - I came to this place for a memory. Oddly enough, but I did it. I saw a girl of about seventeen with blond hair and pale green eyes. She had a warm smile and a trusting expression on her face. I saw something like this before ... Yes, that's right, this is one of Sheldon's chicks. I put her to rest in now my mansion.

I did not go deeper into the vision. It was already too hard for me to kill these Sheldon girls, despite the fact that they were vampires, and if I find out their background before conversion, I feel their experiences, desires, dreams, hopes, then this can stir up the already settled worries in my soul, to turn over already settled experiences.

The vision was more black and white and painfully contrasted. Only some details, such as the eyes, were colored, and I'm sure the blood would also be red. I think that with a deeper immersion, the picture would acquire full color, and emotions would appear with color.

No, no, I don't need this.

To test his guesses about the suspended bodies, he touched another corpse, receiving a picture of memories. Again there was the girl Sheldon had killed. Nothing too new.

I didn't stay in one place any longer. Trying to move in one direction, by touch and using a new vision from the darkness, he went forward, hoping to go beyond the "composition" formed in the vampire's memory chambers from his victims. Gradually, the bodies that came across on my way became more and more dried up, and then they no longer hung on long ropes, being attached somewhere far above, now the bodies simply lay under my feet.

"Probably, the ropes are rotten," an unhealthy thought slipped through my mind.

What kind of ropes? Everything that is there is only a projection. Nothing is real here. There is even a minimum of energy here, which is largely supported by me, my magic.

Gradually, as we advanced, the bodies underfoot gave way to bones. And when I reached the edge of this place, the bones were gone. The edge was washed by the sea. It was an island in a sea-ocean of blood.

Sheldon's center of personality is emptiness and hunger, which are only partially filled with victims. All his own feelings and desires are the ocean of blood that surrounds the island. The islet is his deceitful essence.

This is how vampires are confused. Everything false is real, and everything real is false. The beast of the element of blood is constantly trying to swallow the island of personality, which is no longer a personality. The real personality of a vampire is a sea of ​​blood, a beast, a wild element.

Touching the blood, I tried to read at least something from Sheldon's memory. The flashing pictures-emotions, experiences and the rest of the information flow made me pull my hand back, breaking the contact. These visions were too uncoordinated, and there was something more ancient in them than Sheldon himself.

He overcame his fear, reached out and touched the sea again, trying to keep his attention on any one picture-memory. At first nothing worked, but then attention lingered on the recollection of Maximilian's conversation with an even older vampire. Sheldon tried to persuade him to speak on his side, but he explained his vision of the world and refused.

"You are still too young," said the ancient one. - Your world was immediately the same as it is now, well, or almost the same. Although, you found the time before the statute with the wizards and before the establishment of the masquerade with us. Even if you yourself did not participate in the rituals, then you should have remembered about the wizards.

Sheldon's body and face were clearly visible, while the ancient was all shrouded in darkness, hiding his face and figure.

"Yes, I know about wizards," Sheldon said proudly. - Small groups of people with abilities are hiding on reservations, thinking about themselves for no reason. They believe that the world belongs to them, and everyone else is just garbage under their feet.

- You described the wizards and their world very accurately, - the vampire agreed, - only the same description applies to vampires.

"I disagree," Sheldon objected, preparing to defend his point. - I have just a goal: to establish the primacy of the vampires over the rest. I am well aware that vampires are not taking their rightful place.

"Don't tell me fairy tales," the ancient said forcefully. - Every vampire imagines himself as the navel of the world as soon as his connection with his parent weakens. Maybe you can see that vampires are not at the top, but you think that this is where they belong, your place.

"I saw this world when monsters still lived here," the ancient one continued a little more calmly. "Not the chimeras that wizards create or the animals they call dragons, but real monsters. I've seen human heroes kill them. Heroes were considered demigods - mortals endowed with the power of the gods, born of the union of gods with mortals. Not all of this is true.

- I do not understand, - Sheldon threw up his hands, - what are you talking about? What is the connection between this and my offer to join?

- This world is not as simple as you think, - the ancient smiled. - While monsters lived on earth, heroes were born among people. Note, not wizards, but heroes. Their strength is akin to that of wizards, but different. Magicians need to learn and train, and the heroes were originally endowed with great gifts and used them without difficulty.

- I still don't understand.

- It's all about balance, - the ancient gave the introductory topic. - People, wizards or heroes are all human, one species. All their differences easily fit into racial differences and they can all be reborn into each other, if not within the boundaries of one individual, but within the boundaries of the population. When the wizards established their statute, nothing special happened. But when the vampires followed the example of the wizards, hiding their world from the common people, fewer Muggleborns were born in people. This world is trying to maintain some kind of balance. What you suggest will upset the balance. Of course, a balance will be found. It is even possible that vampires will be at the top, which I doubt, but it will be a completely different world, which is not interesting to me.

- When you live with mine, - continued the ancient, - you will understand that it is people who define this world. Neither vampires, nor demons, nor spirits devoured to the level of gods do not determine the course of this world, but only people. God gave the earth to people.

"Wizards can also decide something," the ancient said. - Because they are people too. But vampires, in my opinion, take their place - in the shadows. Don't ask me to take your side anymore. I will not interfere with you, but I will not help you either. I have little interest in this world. I feel that I will soon come to the fact that the darkness in me will become as strong as blood. I will not need to drink blood anymore and I will know where the ancients are going.

I was thrown out of the vision.

After wandering around the island a little, looking for at least someone interesting and not finding, he returned from dreams to reality.

My journey into the memory of a vampire was too tiring. Too much sorrow, emptiness, blood and darkness. In the end, I began to feel the smell of blood all around - a sense of smell cut through. When I returned, I lay for a long time "digesting" impressions, coming back to normal.

The ancient vampire made a definite impression on me. The thought crept in that the vampire magician who developed the method of demonization was striving for the result that the ancient one demonstrated, looking for a way to accelerate the evolution of vampires.

The general mood from viewing the memory was depressed, depressed. All this blood, darkness, corpses, all this pressed on the psyche. In addition, I was overtaken by various unpleasant reactions and sensations that were stopped in my sleep. For a long time I struggled with a sudden disgust, which manifested itself in an obsessive desire to wash, even if I washed just an hour ago. Then fear came over me in the form of an extreme reluctance to be alone and in the dark. Finally, there was a desire to drink human blood.

Fortunately, all symptoms of a leaky roof and a mess in the attic were gone within a couple of days. But, despite some of the benefits of immersion in the memory of a vampire and a quick restoration of mental health, I did not want to use the potion with vampire blood again. Really, I felt like a psychonaut, boldly plunging into other people's psychoses and mental disorders. If I was crazy like Riddle, I probably spat on the danger of going crazy. A madman cannot be frightened with madness if he has the opportunity to satisfy his passion. But I was closer to the path of Dumbledore, who gathered knowledge not for the sake of strength.

Power and knowledge are good, but more important is how they are used.

Riddle made the Horcruxes, finding in his time this way of gaining "immortality", a way of frankly trashy, destroying the personality, depriving the mind. My opinion is this: even if Riddle had known the consequences in advance, he would still have done the same, because he was a madman from the beginning. Although the madness was not so noticeable, it grew in him, gradually taking over his entire personality, until a monster appeared, an insane monster, hungry for even more strength and power.

If Tom was like me, he would not blindly use the old ritual. He rethought the information he had gathered, he would have found another way, not so flawed. My project "Avatar" seemed to me more profitable than creating an anchor, even without touching on the topic of madness.

Yes, my method has not yet been tested, but it will be possible to try it soon. No one will need to be killed as a victim, the soul is not damaged, there is no personality disorder. In addition, in the event of the death of the doll, the original must become stronger.

Unfortunately, until the third test of the Tournament I had no opportunity to replace the original. Therefore, the risk for Potter will remain great. There is some probability that in the event of the death of the original, her soul will be attracted to the doll, but this is still not a Horcrux, not a full-fledged anchor, there are little hopes for this.

***

Before the third test of the Tournament, I decided to look for something in the Hogwarts Library on the topic of ancient times, about which the vampire spoke. It was not possible to find out anything reliably. The information was not entirely zero, but close to that. The books that told, conventionally, about those times were all in languages ​​unknown to me and under special control. The most widespread was the literature about Merlin. Not such ancient times, but nevertheless, almost all books about the times of Merlin were like fairy tales.

Looking for literature with the mention of elves, I found a few more tales. What to do? This people was already a legend in Merlin's time, and now Merlin himself is more of a mythical character.

A surprise for me was a book in Russian explaining the origin of some Slavic fairy-tale characters. Baba Yaga and her granddaughter Marya-Krasa are two faces of the power of death, they are one power, but different images. Koschey the Immortal, a character in many Slavic fairy tales, had a very real historical prototype. The prototype of Koshchei the Immortal - a character in East Slavic tales and epics - is the leader of the Ostrogoths of the 4th century. Germanarich. He is sometimes called the King of the Goths. Later, for the Slavs, it becomes the prototype of the threat from the west.

"Yeah," I depicted in my thoughts Kisa Vorobyaninov.

What ficwriters did not invent in the past world and the Russian archmage Koshchei, and the great magical families of the Koshcheyevs, and what kind of nonsense, but it turns out Koschey is a German, a German, a Goth. But he was a magician, in some places in this found book he was called the king-sorcerer and the king-sorcerer.

With the Serpent Gorynych, everything was both more complicated and simpler. If you take this three-headed dragon as it is, then just an evil inclination without any applications to reality, but if you start drawing parallels, then the image of the Horde emerges. Serpent Demands Tribute - The Horde demands tribute. Eats young guys and girls - they drive healthy and strong guys and beautiful girls into slavery. Spits fire - the horde loved to burn cities. Three-headed - The Golden Horde eventually split into parts. In this revision, the serpent becomes an image of danger from the east, from the Horde. Perhaps an earlier version of the serpent was associated with the Huns.

I read in the same book about Slavic brownies, which made me even more inclined to purchase our English one. Maybe someone and for fun in their own house to be a guest at the brownie, but I sharply did not like this idea. Moreover, the book mentioned for comparison and the English housekeeper and the differences in his behavior when attached to a wizard and a magical source.

"Bind strictly to the wizard," I decided for myself.

Our English housekeeper Dobby, Winky or any other will never reach the level of freedom of Slavic brownies, but it's better to tie it to a wizard - in order to avoid ...

The stands were built in a semicircle in front of the entrances to the labyrinth. The music of the local brass band was playing. Spectators chanted bravura chants in support of their champions.

The champions with the school directors went to the starting point of the third test.

"Professor Moody hid the goblet in the back of the Triwizard labyrinth this morning," Dumbledore announced. - No one except him knows the location of the cup.

"Mr. Crum will be the first to enter the maze," Professor Dumbledore said, and paused, giving the audience an opportunity to express their emotions in support of the champion Durmstrang. - The second, with a small time difference, will enter Miss Potter, who took second place in the previous tests - a new explosion of emotions interrupted the director again. "Almost immediately after her, Mr. Black will enter the maze. And the last - Miss Delacour, - the director finished with the distribution of priorities, no longer paying attention to the shouts of the fans. - Whoever touches the cup first will be the winner. We will control the maze outside. If anyone wishes to withdraw from the competition, he or she should send up a sheaf of red sparks.

"Participants, come here quickly," Albus called to the champions. Embracing Krum and Delacour by the shoulders, he began to speak in a voice lowered to half a whisper, the last instructions:

- There are no dragons and underwater creatures in the labyrinth, but there you can meet something more terrible. In the maze, people change. Find the goblet if you can, but be careful not to lose yourself along the way.

- Champions, get ready, - the director gave the command.

Potter took a seat according to her color. It was from that passage that Moody came out. I'm not hinting at anything, but if this "Moody" needs Potter to win, then it is logical to assume that it is through this passage that the path may be the shortest. I need to make it to the cup with Potter. It is risky, but this order is the most advantageous. If I were the first, I would find myself alone with danger on the other side of the portal, and if Anrietta was the first, she would be left alone, then she would have to cope on her own, as in the canon, almost.

"Shoot for the count of three," the director said to Filch, who was standing with a pallet by the cannon. - One!

A shot rang out, announcing the start of the third competition.

Krum walked confidently into the passage, and the hedge bushes closed behind him. Potter entered the maze slowly, looking around all the time. When they gave me the signal to enter, I slipped into the aisle with a light jog, not wanting to waste time.

It was already evening. Clouds began to gather in the sky. When Dumbledore began his speech and instructions, the sun had not yet disappeared behind the edge of the stands, but now, especially in the maze, it seemed as if night had come. The darkness had not yet become impenetrable, but it evoked certain sensations. It immediately reminded me of recent adventures in the world of vampire memory, so I immediately became sweaty. But on the other hand, the darkness became clearer to me, closer, even dearer. I had to go to a dead end once to understand the special vibrations of darkness that warn of an error.

In the labyrinth, there were various sounds, indistinguishable from the rustling of leaves, which also made the nerves tense. I safely avoided short dead-end branches, focusing on the vibrations of darkness. Feeling the right direction with my instinct, I was about to rush forward when the walls of the labyrinth began to close, pushing me in the opposite direction. If I had been in the aisle Moody came through, I might have been able to follow the scent, but at the same time, False Groom had time to wind circles there.

Hastily retreating, he began to look for a new path. A minute later, Fleur's hysterical cry was heard. I wanted to help her, she was screaming painfully terribly, but looking for a way to her here is just a waste of time and a failure of the whole plan. I hesitated for some time, deciding on a decision, until I saw red sparks from the direction from which I heard the French woman's cry. One could hope that they would help her.

I did not meet boggarts, nozzle tails or sphinx in the maze, I don't know about the rest of the champions. After some time, I again managed to feel the way to the cup, by that moment I had already lost track of time. Rushing to the goblet, I was lucky enough to stumble upon Krum with a dull look, who was trying to attack Potter.

"Lie down," I shouted to Anriette, showering Krum with spells.

After a short fight, getting a step, Victor fell to the ground. Approaching the fallen body with a stick at the ready, I was ready to make control, but Potter literally hung on my arm, persuading me to leave Krum as it is:

- Don't, he's bewitched.

Having heeded her cries, he took his wand away from Krum, at that very moment the walls of the labyrinth again made another evolution, opening us a long, but straight corridor to the cup, which attracted us with a blue light.

I didn't have a task to overtake Potter, so I didn't overtake her, but when the creepers grabbed my legs and didn't react to Anrietta, it seemed to me that I had lost.

"Henriette, help me," I shouted.

The girl hesitated for a moment, but still came back and helped me to free myself from the devil's snare, it seems that these plants are called so. The corridor began to close again, and we hurried to the cup.

"Come on together," Potter suggested. "You saved me from Krum, and I saved you from the devil's snares.

"Okay," I agreed. - One-two-three.

We grabbed the goblet and the portal took us to the old cemetery.

- The cup is a portal, - I worked as a captain.

Potter had just found a gravestone with the inscription "Tom Riddle 1905-1943".

- We need to leave here, rather to the cup, - the girl worried.

When a light appeared in the nearest crypt, and a fire was lit under the cauldron, I was ready to act and ordered Potter:

- Take cover! Hurry!

Having hesitated for a second, Potter still obeyed the command, hiding behind the nearest monument. Standing like in the movies Cedric, aiming his wand, I had no plans. Have you pointed your wand? Shoot! Moreover, no one demands to start with avada, and no one has died of treading by itself.

"Kill the second boy," the ugly child ordered in a nasty voice.

Tail's death did not become a major obstacle to Voldemort's plans. He found two whole replacements. You never know fools like Quirrell that they are ready to serve at least "Atskaya Stsotone" for promises of gaining strength and power?

"Avada Kedavra," one of the Dark Lord's followers shouted, pointing his wand in my direction.

But I, hiding behind one of the monuments, this spell did no harm, did not get. In response, he sent a series of weak spells to the Upivans. The goal was not to hit the enemies, but to force them to stop the advance. Unexpectedly for myself, one of my spells achieved some success. One step hit the upivan, knocking him down, but the success was temporary. Almost immediately he turned around, coming to his senses, apparently, he had some amulets. I did not have time to control.

The firefight could have gone on for a long time, but Voldemort did not want to wait by the sea for the weather when the situation became so precarious. Moreover, Potter joined my defensive efforts. Now our chances of winning are visibly higher than those of the enemy.

Fools, "the ugly child cried. - Enough toil with nonsense. Follow the contingency plan. We don't have time for this stupid confrontation.

After Voldemort's command, one of his mages remained in control of us, from time to time sending spells, while the other dashed back to the large cauldron and began to perform the ritual.

For a while, the skirmish died down. Personally, it was interesting for me to see, especially since I was sure that I was in control of the situation in due measure. The Cup is not far away, Potter and I are in cover - everything is under control.

Father's bone.

Servant flesh.

The blood of the enemy.

My actions interrupt a temporary lull, incapacitating the magician who controls us. He just took advantage of the moment when he was distracted by the revival of the lord, he is also interested in fact.

Potter took my activity as a command to attack, which almost led to tragedy. She rushed forward, catching the right moment for the spell, and I missed her jerk. The drunkard and Potter's spells came off the wands at the same time. Stupefy Potter hit the target, but the cutting from the drunk flew over Henrietta's head, because she stumbled.

- Don't touch Potter, - the dark lord was angry at the recovering drunkard. - She is mine. Give me your hand.

The dark lord picked up his wand and brought its tip to the black mark, calling for help.

"Potter," I shouted, getting the girl's attention. "It's time for us to get out of here.

Making a dash, using a haste spell, he found himself next to Henrietta.

- Accio, - pulled the cup, activating the portal.

Let there be no epic confrontation between the avada of the dark lord and the expelliarmus of the heroine of all great Britain, there will be no revelations from the lord, there will be no appearance of the spirits of Henrietta's parents, but no one will die. Cedric was already alive, so I liked this version of events better.

Appearing in the clearing with Potter and the goblet in my arms, I immediately shouted:

- Grab Moody, this is a drunk under the back.

At first, no one took my words seriously, but after a moment, Crouch Junior lost his nerves and he drew his wand. Dumbledore was quicker, nibbling False Groom with a non-verbal step. In a moment, everyone could contemplate Crouch Jr. in his true guise.

There was a noise, din, Aurors appeared. In this crowd, everyone forgot about the tournament winners. But I did not delude myself with such forgetfulness, soon they will remember about us and interrogations will begin.