Department of Mysteries. 2

I headed for the main exit. More precisely, I flew at maximum speed, conjuring two fronts of Hellfire – one in front and one behind, burning small golems. A few seconds later, I broke into the hall of the Department of Mysteries. Another spell in the elevator shaft – and I was flying towards freedom. I wanted to get out on any level, but the shaft was covered with powerful spells. There was only one entrance in the Department of Mysteries and one exit in the Atrium of the Ministry.

Soon, I found myself in the Atrium of the Ministry, and I realized this was a failure. I immediately ran into a bunch of small traps on the runes. I should have been paralyzed and disfigured, but my protection was holding up for now. The spells affecting my senses were handled by protective charms. The area attacks were strong, and an ordinary mage would be knocked out in a second, but I held on.

But the main problem wasn't the automatic protection or the traps. The Atrium's protection, while inferior to the Department of Mysteries' isolation barriers, was still formidable. It felt like looking at the ceiling of the Great Hall of Hogwarts with magical vision – everything was dazzling. However, the phoenix could take me away from here. Just not instantly. It would need time and energy to make its way to me.

The thing I disliked the most was the contingent awaiting me. They must have decided not to search for a needle in a haystack – not to look for me in the Department of Mysteries, full of valuable and explosive items. Instead, they were simply waiting for me in the Atrium.

Thanks to reaction potions and acceleration spells, time felt incredibly slow. Reflexively creating shields, I had time to feel horrified. It was easier to say who wasn't there. There were no friends here, no Minister of Magic, and no Rita Skeeter. The Atrium was filled with Aurors, the Order of the Phoenix, and it seemed like they had gathered as if for a parade. They stood in loose formation under the cover of golems and the Ministry's stationary magical shields. Between them were animated statues – both humanoid and reminiscent of owls.

And then, there were Albus Dumbledore and Alastor Moody.

My Hellfire instantly went out. Attempts to throw Twilight Flame and new Hellfire at them ended in nothing – the spells simply dissipated halfway, crushed by sheer quantity and quality. Avada Kedavra flew normally, but the golems absorbed them. Meanwhile, Alastor Moody, Albus Dumbledore, and two hundred wizards were already launching spells at me. In addition, tentacles of energy, invisible outside of magical vision, came from Albus like the arms of a giant octopus.

I instantly felt like a ship in the grip of a sea monster. The tentacles stopped at the outer edge of my defense, about two meters from my body. I felt pressure and an outflow of energy, but the tentacles soon overcame the outer barrier, despite flaring up. They began to burn but moved forward slowly, as if ignoring the flames. The tentacles melted like candle wax, without bones inside, as though someone had constructed a framework of geometric fragments and fused some sort of flesh over it.

At the same time, I felt a mental attack.

I found myself raising my left hand against my will and reaching for the vaguely finger-like squiggles and bone-like tentacles. I felt a force pulling at me. I didn't know what would happen if I took hold of this strange appendage, so I called upon my most powerful Dark Spells and aimed them at the tentacles, hoping they would touch the tentacles instead of me. The flash of energy clashing knocked me out of my magical vision. Hopefully, I destroyed the tentacles.

But I had problems beyond Albus. The other mages were not idle. A huge number of spells and raw waves of power were flying at me. Although their arsenal was not up to my level and did not shine with variety, their number was too great, even for me. If there had been twenty of them, I could have tried to do something, but now there was no chance of winning. They had thrown out more power than I had and were not thinking of stopping—just an endless rain of magic. I would have died, but the spells were not lethal and not Dark; only this gave me a ghostly illusion of holding out for at least a second, waiting for Nagini.

I tried to conjure transfigured objects in front of me so that they would absorb at least some of the spells, but the transfiguration dissipated before it could form. I felt my defenses weakening, felt myself losing control of my flight, and then slamming into the floor like a stone. Casting the most powerful protective spells I knew, I called Nagini. I had been saving her for the last round, but I feared that time had already arrived. "My little bird, come faster. These split seconds are very important to me now," I told Nagini.

Albus, still casting standard spells, unleashed another spell with a catch on me. It was something reminiscent of a regular Petrificus Totalus, only its structure consisted of hundreds of fused paralyzing, stunning, and disarming spells, linked together like a giant puzzle. There was more Magic in this than in Hellfire, even when performed by me. And it flew straight at my head.

I added protective spells, covered myself with my left hand, which held an activated protective artifact I had pulled out of my pocket, and using all the blood in my left hand, conjured another Blood Shield. The spell hit the Blood Shield. It broke. But each of its fragments continued to live its own life and attack! This made me tense up to the limit of what was possible. It was as if a wolf had rushed at me, I shot it, and then every cell of the wolf attacked me! Moreover, while blocking this mosaic spell, I was forced to accept Albus's second spell for protection, which turned out to be even less pleasant.

The second spell stopped and seemed to stick to my magical protection, while still being active. For this alone, one could fall to one's knees before Dumbledore and beg him to take me as a student. And then the spell began to seep under my protection, ignoring everything, even the active Blood Shield. Attempts to slow it down did nothing. It was like trying to protect yourself from ants with a beekeeper's suit—the ants are smaller and will simply pass through the mesh. Damn Albus, what's next? Enchanted neutrinos?

Just in case, I did the only thing that made sense—I removed the energy from all the magical channels in my left hand, despite the fact that it brought up associations with winding nerves on a stick.

The spell grabbed my left hand and burned it painfully. I stopped feeling my left hand completely. The spells kept raining down; I felt like a wall being shot at with artillery. It seemed like it couldn't get any worse. I was standing on the floor, struggling with someone's gender transfiguration. But it can always get worse; any bottom can be broken through. I realized this when I received the Cruciatus. It hurt—very much. It felt as if every millimeter of my body was being pierced by hot knives, as if molten metal was being poured inside.

All I could do was not lose consciousness and stand like a pillar, putting my energy into my own defense. It was like falling to the ground in a street fight and rolling around, covering your head with your hands—maybe they won't kick you right away. The last thing I felt was my body refusing to obey and the crunch of my own ribs. Then, there was a flash of light. The wand would have flown out of my hands if I hadn't recently glued it with a wandless spell of Eternal Adhesion. I managed to get away with just a dislocation and a double fracture of my right hand. I hoped I wouldn't wake up in a courtroom.

Instead, I woke up at home in my bed. For the second time that day, I had received the Cruciatus and lost consciousness. I needed to change something in my life. I lay there, the chandelier blinding my eyes, as my house-elves—Tony and Gabi—fussed around me. I was surrounded by metal objects that I recognized as amulets with a healing spell attached, and an IV was sticking out of my left hand. Outwardly, I resembled an illustration from a first aid manual. Funny.

The house-elves had been itching to help me for a long time. To get them off my back, I had simply given them medical reference books and told them to study. I didn't think it would come in handy. Nagini was sitting on the windowsill, and there were half as many protective artifacts as before—rings on paws, neck, and other things.

"What happened?" I asked Nagini in snake.

"I was almost late, master," Nagini replied. "I managed to move behind you and grab your hand with my paws at the last moment. Thanks to the objects hung on me, I was not deafened. We escaped."

"I urgently need to get to the meeting of the Death Eaters," I said.

The house-elves squealed in protest.

"Master is ill!" Gabi screamed.

"Master needs to rest!" Toby yelled.

"Master drank skestarost half an hour ago!" Now their screams were synchronized. They say that only a dog can love, but they are lying. If no one loves you, get a house-elf. I wondered if a house-elf's brain could be shoved into a magician's skull.

I cast a diagnostic charm on myself, but I didn't like what I saw. Looking at the results of the diagnostic spell, I felt a vague uneasiness, although I couldn't pinpoint why. I tried to figure out what exactly about the results I found unsatisfactory. I looked at the cluster of colored balls I had conjured hanging in the air—a visualization of the spell. Something about these balls was wrong; this one and this one shouldn't glow like that.

Trying to remember what that glow meant was unsuccessful because everything felt so interesting here and now. Something was wrong. I suddenly felt that I had lost my critical faculties along the way, as I couldn't focus on the anomalies I sensed were bound to be present. I knew I was caught up in the moment and couldn't clearly see what seemed secondary. I felt like a pilot flying a plane whose control column had jammed.

I began to use my mental magic, directing it at myself. My brain felt as if a cold wind was blowing through it. When my head cleared a little, I started casting magic while lying on the bed. After casting two dozen diagnostic spells, I finally got to the cause: foreign influence on the mind. I cast Dispel Magic on myself, then a charm against mental influence. With each spell, something in my head seemed to click, trying to fall into place.

"Toby! Gabi! Bring the first aid kit with potions quickly! And anti-mind-altering agents!" I ordered.

Snape is good, but I try to brew potions for myself. First, I drank the universal antidote. Zero effect. Then I started drinking "Mind Clearing," "Enlightenment," and other things. The smell from my mouth began to resemble the smell of a troll. But my head felt better. Now it felt like a sleepy person climbed into a cold shower. After the fifth bottle, I was overcome. I felt very ashamed. I would have been better off just going to the Department of Mysteries naked with a poster on my back that said, "I love Albus." This could be written off as a joke. What was I doing? The closer the end of the operation was, the less useful I felt!

Why did I go to look at the Arch of Death? It is the most useless thing in the Ministry! Why did I activate "Astral Vision" near the Arch of Death? I know that using "Astral Vision" makes your thoughts confused! Why do this in front of strangers and next to an object that can rid the world of anything? Why didn't I check myself for outside interference after I regained consciousness? Why did I go to the Room of Prophecies? Why did I take that prophecy? Why did I think I should ignore it while planning to kill Harry and Neville? What should I do with that damn prophecy? There's a trace of the Matching Charm left there; I need to send agents to wipe it all off!

Well, I couldn't take the Arch of Death. What am I going to do with it? Dump Muggle nuclear waste in there? And the manticore with it— the Ministry hasn't been able to do anything worthwhile with it for centuries. Why drag it along with me, risking the operation and myself personally? Why get into trouble just to expose my phoenix faster? After all, it might not work a second time! Why volunteer to cover the transportation of the Arch of Death? Because I couldn't concentrate on the anomalies that I felt had to be there. I knew I was caught up in the moment; I couldn't see clearly what seemed secondary to me.

And what were you doing in the Ministry Atrium? Avads were clearly unnecessary; it would have been better to focus on self-defense and concentrate on escape. At least send a Patronus or Antipatronus ahead for reconnaissance. Or drink Polyjuice with a "combat body" in advance; then there would have been less damage. Even better—you should have tried to break through from the elevator shaft to another level. There are more chances than heroically rushing to break through! Any of these actions is stupid. And all together—how am I even alive?

I tried to massage my face. My left hand only twitched weakly for a couple of centimeters. I almost pierced my eye with a magic wand stuck to my right hand. Very carefully, I used local pain-relieving charms, cutting off the top layer of skin from my right palm with the Scalpel Curse. I treated the wound with star anise, then carefully dissolved the skin that had stuck to the wand. I went to the mirror. It was time to sort myself out.

In about twenty minutes, the answer was ready. When I had entered the Department of Mysteries and was walking around with weakened protection, someone had taken advantage of this and cast a very cunning spell on me. It did not kill, did not wound, did not maim. It was meant to be a feat... and I had missed it! I must be more careful! Moody was right—constant vigilance! And never be without full protection, except when alone with Bellatrix. It was clearly one of our own. Who? I must find out immediately.

In order not to faint prematurely, I must drink the Delayed Reversal Potion. It is better not to use the Time-Turner yet—everything is so confusing that it is easy to get into a time loop or miscalculate the duration of the potions. Soon, I assumed the appearance of Elena, cast a powerful concealment charm on myself, and went to the Lestranges.

Question: how to get into the hall unnoticed if the door is closed? Even an invisible person needs to open the door. But I can't walk through walls. Self-transfiguration into gas or influencing the wall (like making it transparent on one side) would reveal me. The phoenix phenomenon would unmask me.

Soon the answer was ready. I gave Pandora a signal via the Dark Mark in the form of a sequence of burnings, which meant "send Snape to Dumbledore." Snape went straight from the assembly hall to Dumbledore. He opened the door and went out. I managed to go in, maintaining my incognito. Pandora said something, stalling for time, listening to the list of trophies.

"My lord, maybe we should look for your student? She has not returned," said Rabastan.

"Now I want to hear the list of trophies."

"I have already sent reinforcements to her. You, as Lestrange, can guess what kind," said Voldemort. This was a hint at the phoenix familiar. "We will discuss her fate later." Everyone was present in the assembly hall except Rookwood, who was distributing the catch among the bases and watching the brains, and Snape, who had just come out.

Who was to blame? Edward, who decided to get rid of the fool? Hardly. Even if he didn't love Elena, he understood her value—to send her ahead, and then just take the corpses. The main thing is not to forget—the Earth is round; you can't be hit in the rear.

Bella, jealous of Voldemort? I don't believe it. She has a direct order not to do this, except for obvious self-defense. After I started sleeping with Bella and desired a child, her thoughts about Elena went from the "kill, torture, feed to a dementor" mark.

Lucius, harboring a grudge? Lucius is a coward. He would be afraid, especially in light of the last performance. Rosier, tired of waiting for Moody to die? Of all the candidates, he is the most realistic. We must begin the test with him.

Under invisibility, I walked around the table and stood so that I could see Rosier's eyes. Well, let's begin. Time to use wandless nonverbal Legilimency. The Death Eaters had already discussed all the topics when I finished. The Dark Lord congratulated them on the success of the operation.

It took me one hour and ten minutes to get to the memories I needed without being noticed. A good plan, Sebastian. Taking advantage of Elena's weakened defenses, exposing her to outside influence, distorting perception, and interfering with the assessment of priorities. As soon as you learned about the raid on the Department of Mysteries, you prepared. For several days, you wove a very complex and unnoticeable spell, putting it into the object.

But it is not a combat spell—it acts slowly and is easily repelled by passive shields. And it suggests how you carried it—caught a twenty-meter tapeworm, a non-magical intestinal parasite, cast a spell on it, and then implanted it into your body.

He hoped that Elena would die or, if she survived, she would not connect her problems with him. Well, her behavior is quite in line with her reputation. And he really did prevent me from moving back—improvisation. He is sure that he got rid of Elena. The motive, oddly enough, was not personal hostility.

He considered that Elena was a bad influence on the Lord, taking on too much. But what angered him most was her dealings with werewolves—after all, werewolves are not even people! And he was smart enough not to shout about it and wait for his chance.

What did he hope for in Elena's case? That after her death, the werewolves would be thrown out as unnecessary, and he would not be suspected. Immediately after the meeting, he planned to conduct several tricky rituals and hide his memories. After that, it would be very difficult to catch him involved in the case.

And if she survived, Elena's behavior would be completely in her style, and it would be only his word against hers. He did not consider the possibility that she would tell something if captured. The Lord must be able to keep his secrets, along with losers.

And if the Lord finds out the truth? So what? I am one of your most loyal, devoted, and strongest servants. My son died serving you. After all, the Lord won't kill him, as he thinks—what's the point of avenging the dead?

Crucio? As you say. But a living leader of a concentration camp is very useful. He had reasons to think so—the Lord gave his subordinates enough freedom; the main thing was to do without the corpses of mages of his status.

But he didn't kill her. She lacked the skills to get out of the situation she had gotten herself into! After all, all the cemeteries are filled with the young and daring...

I really don't want to kill Rosier, but I'm not immortal. His next attempt may be successful. If not for me, then for Lily. And she is needed for the loyal Snape, so that through him, he can leak disinformation about Horcruxes to Albus, where he will die heroically, overcoming in the name of the common good.

"Pandora, end the meeting and send everyone home. Tell Bellatrix to go immediately and personally conduct a full audit of what we brought," I ordered Pandora through Legilimency.

What to do? On one hand, we must take care of our own. Even the inadequate can find work after the victory—let him lead the corps for the extraction of prisoners in Africa after the victory. We must live to see the victory; each fighter can be the last weight on the scales.

On the other hand, Rosier is an obvious fanatic. He will follow his views, even if they are not beneficial to him. It will not work to convince him. Take his wife hostage? It will not work. He will try to save her, but he has clear priorities. He will kill a lich or two on this matter, and then spit. Wipe his memory to zero? Risky—he might fail. Alas, he will have to kill.

It is necessary to play it right. No public execution; they will not understand. But maybe it is for the best. Who here is from the ultra-radicals of the "Pureblood at any cost" party? Rosier, Mulciber, Avery, and Carrow. And I am not sure about Alecto Carrow—perhaps she will be satisfied with the life of a socialite, Regent Black under my dictation.

Sebastian, you were a good Death Eater. So good that Moody, having seen your concentration camp, would have killed you during the arrest, even if you tried to surrender. Killing you right here is very stupid both from a political point of view and in terms of the possibilities of implementation—I can miss a response spell from one of my own. And it will have a bad effect on the morale of the organization. So let's not chase theatrics.

The Death Eaters began to disperse. I hope Pandora doesn't screw this up. It's not easy to get into a wizard's house unnoticed. But if you're Voldemort and this wizard added the Dark Lord to the list of exceptions for protection in front of you, and you have a phoenix, then everything is elementary.

I waited for Rosier at the apparition pad under invisibility in his house. But he moved to another pad. I caught up with him only in the house. I came up almost point-blank from behind. I held my wand in my right hand; Nagini was sitting on my left shoulder in case I needed to escape.

I really wanted to use Imperius, but this is a very bad idea. Especially considering his attitude to Imperius, which he demonstrated during our duel.

"Avada Kedavra!" I said quietly, standing half a meter away from him. But this was unnecessary—my protection does not allow the sounds of the Unforgivable to get out. Just in case, he used a transfiguration blocking charm in parallel. A green beam touched his back. Sebastian Rosier died instantly, despite the fact that he walked with active protection even in his own house. This is why Avada is not liked.

The house defenses were activated, but I simply jumped like a phoenix to the second signal in the house, belonging to a human. Rosier's wife received the Imperius and the order to deactivate the house defenses. The Imperius did not misfire on the woman, and soon I was already thinking about what to order her to do.

Probably, Rosier's widow will go far away to carry out the Lord's orders. And Sebastian was killed by the vile Dark Magicians from the Order of the Phoenix. What a tragedy! I need to think about what to do with the body and the house-elves.

Two hours later, having given Rosier's widow instructions, I was in my house. I will need to appoint a new leader of the concentration camp. While reviewing my first-aid kit, I thought about the results of my reign. Goyle and Rosier are in the minus. Goyle is not very valuable. In a year, Lily will be able to replace him, especially if she manages to connect to the Princes' source to create a symbiont from necroenergy for Dark Magic.

The situation with Rosier is worse. Although perhaps with the new commander of the concentration camp, there will be no overspending of prisoners. Who to replace him with? Abidemi? Not funny. Abidemi is a "seer" and "spiritual speaker." He has no political weight or influence at all; he is not a member of the Inner Circle but is a consultant on a number of technical issues. He is useful, although he sometimes gets carried away: "My Lord, the spirits say that you need to kill less."

Yes, I know; it doesn't work out yet. And if I fight without Dark Magic, I will have no chance of winning, not to mention the questions the Death Eaters and Bellatrix will have for me.

Once I get rid of Dumbledore, I will sit on the Hogwarts spring, grow a beard... I already have a Phoenix.

And no sweets! Only fried meat and cognac. Honestly, wizards are sometimes incredibly stupid. They have Time Magic and an aging potion, but no one has thought of aging cognac! But I thought of it...

Having emerged from thoughts about the future, I plunged into the present. I drank a lot of potions before the operation in the Department of Mysteries. I climbed to the Death Arch, got a wound from my own people, and endured a couple of Cruciatus curses. Then I fought.

According to Nagini, I withstood an attack by Dumbledore and almost the entire Auror team and the Order of the Phoenix for one point and three tenths of a second. I suffered several fractures, internal bleeding, blood loss from witchcraft, and damaged magical channels in my left hand from some spell of Albus's. My hand ached; when I tried to cast magic with it, the magic worked, but it was painful. Fortunately, the channels are not burned— in a month it will be as good as new.

The house elves were smart enough to pour healing potions into me, give me a blood-forming one, put in an IV, transfuse donor blood, and surround me like a mannequin with artifacts with healing properties. Instead of lying low, I first started clearing my head—although if I had done this immediately upon moving to the Ministry, it would have been better, and problems could have been avoided.

In my defense, I can only say that when you are under mental influence, it is very difficult to think in the right way. If it were not for the house elves, I would have gone off to perform feats again.

Then I conducted a search for the culprit, an inquiry, trial, and execution. I had to do a little magic again. I hope his wife won't break the Imperius Curse. I sent a house elf to Bellatrix with orders not to disturb me today.

Now I need to do something that's always left out of the stories about the Dark Lords.

A peculiar potion—three tarantulas, hedgehog bile, a pinch of sheep's brain, a spoonful of cow dung, and seven drops of fly agaric tincture.

Although the composition is not so bad. With a shaking hand, I took out a bottle of emetic. Most likely, I will vomit until bile, until blood...

A long evening awaits me hugging the toilet, while I drink emetic and anti-intoxication potions...