I kept sinking deeper and deeper into the depths of my consciousness. I returned to that moment, to my beaten, tormented body. Every detail crashed down with monstrous clarity: the rough rope cutting into my wrists; the unnatural dislocation of my joints.
And the pain.
Oh, Merlin... The pain.
Each application of the Cruciatus Curse erupted inside me, wave after wave.
And through this hell, I heard my own voice again — dragged from the depths of my shattered memory. A whisper, full of cruelty directed at myself: "You thought you were strong, heir? You thought your family name meant something here? You're just a boy. And you will scream. Everyone screams. But don't let this happen again!"
Now, reliving this in the holy of holies of my mind, I didn't scream, though I remembered how I had screamed then, barely breaking the Petrificus with a powerful surge of magic. I dissected the experience with the almost surgical interest of an Occlumens. I was aware of every emotion. Even the moment of weakness: accepting that this could last forever. Accepting powerlessness.
And then I dug deeper, unearthing all the accompanying horrors: the smell of my own fear, the taste of blood on my lips from my bitten tongue, the chilling loneliness in the pitch darkness. I forced myself to remember everything.
When the last fragment of memory was extracted and laid out before my inner eye, I found myself at the bottom of my own consciousness. I sorted it all, just as I had sorted other memories all these years. Memory after memory, creating a kind of memory palace, and I simply inserted everything where it needed to go.
I shouldn't have interfered back then. I shouldn't have so openly confessed my guilt to the former prefect. I shouldn't have played those dangerous games. I meddled in adult affairs and paid the price.
In a rational, just world, the Answorths' actions would have had their own logic. I ruined their plans. I tormented the now-dead Benedict right within Hogwarts' walls, humiliated him, demonstrated my superiority. This could even be seen as a karmic blow. Except — only in a just world, where we would have been equals. But we were not, and never will be, equals!
His death and that of his entire family? Even now, having relived the hell they put me through, I feel only contempt and cold satisfaction. I don't care how proportionate their punishment was, because for me, their entire family — what am I saying, for me, even thousands of wizards wouldn't be worth my life.
I wouldn't sacrifice myself for others. Not even for the whole world.
They say pride is the deadliest sin. And this sin has always been in me. Pride took root long ago, entwined my soul and became its framework. Only, I don't suffer from this sin — I revel in it. Because I am better! I am more worthy! And I proved myself stronger, proving everything I said. I survived, and they died. I tried with all my might to remember what many would prefer to forget. Even this makes me better than all others!
And this world, with all its ostentatious morality, its foundations and fragile justice... it is too small for the likes of me. Whatever happens, however unfairly I act by the standards of this society — I won't care. Because I will set those standards myself, not submit to them.
I don't want to submit to the world. I want the world to submit to me.
The thirst for power ignited in me in childhood, but only after the soul merger did it truly take on an enormous scale.
The thirst for strength was the desire for absolute power without embellishment, absolute self-confidence. Only absolute strength guarantees that the dark cave and the pain of the Cruciatus will never happen again. Not for me, nor for those I choose to protect. Only unquestionable strength will allow me to seize the power my ancestors vainly tried to attain.
One Dumbledore managed to gain more influence in Britain than my family, which had accumulated connections and wealth over centuries. True, it will all disappear with his death. But what if, besides the immense strength that becomes the guarantor of your security on the throne, you have loyal people... And here I'm not talking about an order with a couple dozen wizards, mostly just above average. Oh no, for my purposes, I needed an army... a real army of battle wizards, each of whom must be a skilled fighter, hardened by real battles. I needed war dogs capable of tearing enemies apart even with their teeth. For some reason, images of Louis and my room at Malfoy Manor surfaced in my mind, but I was too absorbed in my thoughts to pay attention.
I didn't want to deceive myself and understood that any obstacles must be destroyed. I would build a new world. Under my rule and by my rules, to which everyone except myself would submit.
And for the first time, sitting in the silence of the Room of Requirement, with a mind cleansed of the hidden ulcer of the most tormenting memory, I realized the full scale of what I wanted to achieve. Britain is not enough for me. I... I will build a new world.
But no matter how grandiose my thoughts, when I opened my eyes, I was still at school, and still only troubled by school problems. Like the fact that I hadn't completed all the homework assigned the day before. Of course, it would only be checked at the next lessons, which aren't today, but I always used to do everything on the day it was assigned. This disrupts my discipline, and developing self-discipline is always difficult.
Lessons, however, are secondary. I'm ahead of the curriculum, although... additionally reinforcing the material, earning points for the house, and getting Outstanding on everything was necessary. Even school grades could affect my reputation in the future, as absurd and crazy as that sounds.
Only after a few minutes of blankly staring at the wall could I calm down from the thoughts that had come and begin my training. There was literally an hour and a half left until breakfast.
Lately, I'd even been doing my morning physical training — squats, planks, push-ups — here, though it was more a way to build discipline and keep my body toned. I did it in the Room of Requirement variant with my "training room," where I soon found myself.
Thanks to this, I expanded the basic morning exercise routine and included a full warm-up using Louis's method — more precisely, a warm-up stretch with a wand. Besides, here I didn't have to be careful with my movements: I could lift kettlebells and add extra weight for pull-ups or push-ups.
Physically, I was progressing in leaps and bounds, thanks to the course of strengthening potions. So the result was noticeable, even within a week.
Then, of course, I went to practice in the circle with two wands. Though today at some point I put the wands aside and decided to work purely with my hands.
Spells flew from my palms, hitting targets, although this way I couldn't achieve the effect where the mechanisms couldn't raise the dummies before they fell. Plus, my magical reserve depleted so quickly that I feared I'd exhaust my strength before I could train my legs to an acceptable level.
I literally spun around myself — because usually with a wand, at some point my legs would tire. Plus, this was one of my ways to train mobility, though more so coordination and the vestibular system.
The main thing, of course, was sparring with friends individually, or in a one-against-all variation. In the latter, I moved like a snake on a hot frying pan, trying to focus more on dodges and turns, but it was all child's play compared to how I exerted myself in fights with one extremely interesting Slytherin girl.
I remember last year I considered Farmus and Tonks good duelists... and in general, of course, they were good. But the truly strongest were considered to be only a few students. One, a sixth-year Ravenclaw who never came to Dueling Club meetings. He only sparred with his friends. Incidentally, although the Head Boy wasn't in the club, he was friends with this guy.
The second was from the Wood family. But unlike Oliver Wood, his younger brother, who was currently in his fourth year and active on the Quidditch team, his seventh-year older brother was arguably the strongest student at Hogwarts. However, he fought rarely in the Dueling Club, and when he did face someone, the whole club would gather to watch. Honestly, I've only been able to witness his fight once, and it was very short. His opponent was one of our seventh-year Slytherins, and although the guy was clearly head and shoulders above Answorth and Farmus, he still lost, though he put up a decent fight.
As I learned later, there was no conflict between them, and they were even on good terms, so they didn't go all out then.
To put it in perspective, even if I gave it my all, revealing all my cards, I would still lose to the elder Wood brother... I understood this seeing his movements, speed, and arsenal, even limited by duel conventions.
At about the same level was my ideal sparring partner, our seventh-year Slytherin, namely Merula Snyde. Her crazy friend, obsessed with death and pain, as well as an ersatz version of the entire goth movement, Miss Crazy Mirk, had given her the nickname — "The Most Powerful Witch in Hogwarts," which even stuck. Of course, they meant the strongest among female students. In general, since no one particularly sought to dispute this nickname, conclusions could be drawn.
In my humble opinion, the short-haired girl with brown hair, with reddish flecks, was equal to Wood or just slightly inferior.
The only problem was that both friends weren't entirely sane. But they were very strong and not as cunning as, say, Selwyn, who consciously — or only partially consciously — used me and set me against Answorth. In return, I only got her loyalty, but the time will come when I'll remember that... more precisely, those consequences. But that will be later, after school, probably...
Anyway, I digress. The main thing is that I had a sparring partner with whom I could give my all and not even hide my talents. After all, she also knew some wandless magic or "quite a lot" but kept it hidden.
At least I know for sure about her silent mastery of all attacking spells in her arsenal. In general, her aggressive style demanded colossal tension and skill from me just to avoid injury when she accidentally started putting real power into it.
With her, I developed my coordination, mobility, and skills. In general, of course, you need to give your all for training to be more effective — so it turned out that I was becoming stronger at a tremendous pace. But it wasn't easy, because even the phrase "snake on a frying pan" didn't convey how actively I moved in sparring with her.
The main incentive to befriend her was that she didn't want to join the government's security forces, and with her strength and ambitions, apart from the Aurors, there were no options. And she hated Aurors, because they were the ones who once arrested her parents, currently serving time in Azkaban, like many other Death Eaters. Yet she wasn't an ardent fan of Voldemort.
For these reasons, she was one of the best candidates among those I needed to literally recruit wholeheartedly and take on permanent retainer.
Louis wouldn't be able to handle her... although, in a year, when he's her age... she'll still be older and stronger... but at some point, a one-year age difference will stop mattering. But anyway, that's not important now. And why do I keep thinking of Louis whenever recruitment comes up...
Finishing my hour-and-a-half training session with a final practice, I started getting ready. After all, breakfast was soon. But my attention was caught by an interesting gathering just one floor below. As always, I checked the Map to make sure no one was outside the room or nearby, and only then stepped out, but my gaze snagged on an intriguing picture.
What caught my attention so much that I froze staring at the map? Yes. Several upper-year Slytherins, along with Farmus and his friends, and our Head Boy, were sitting in the same classroom, outside of class hours, and weren't even moving around much.
No, I could, of course, assume that Adrian Vance, due to his position, decided to personally settle an upper-year conflict. But I've already seen similar gatherings with suspiciously identical composition not for the first time. More precisely, I'd only seen it once before, but there was a precedent, right? I don't look at the Map constantly — usually only morning and evening, sometimes out of necessity. And it couldn't be such a coincidence that their only two such meetings fell precisely in those short intervals.
It just stinks of something. Especially considering how many times I've noticed oddities through the Marauder's Map this year.
Take Farmus, for instance, who somehow too often encountered and chatted at length with the friends of the deceased Answorth. It might seem understandable — a verbal argument or magical skirmish... But sometimes the same Farmus contacted our Ravenclaw separately. Again, it could all be dismissed, but I was sure something was off. Hence my biased attitude toward the Head Boy.
And the rumors from the two Gryffindor girls weren't the most ordinary. Of course, I asked them to find out more, and asked my Slytherins to be on alert, but it yielded nothing right now.
Something was happening right under my nose, and I wasn't even aware — all because of this curse, on which I was spending far too much time. And it wasn't having the best effect on my mind. Just as this battered mind affected the curse itself. If it weren't for this "Frankenstein" of two once-merged souls and the gaps from Obliviate, perhaps the curse would manifest more weakly. But it is what it is. I had to keep working on it, trying to patch all the holes in my mind, thereby repairing the soul as well. And this, in turn, should ease the issue with the ancestral curse. And don't forget that I'm not the only manipulator among the students. Last time I got too proud and started flaunting it in front of Answorth, it ended in kidnapping and a bunch of deaths. I need to be more careful and cunning... I am a Slytherin, after all.
Sigh... It seems just an hour or two ago I was thinking about grand plans, and now I'm pondering this. And today, this Vance summoned the prefects and participants of yesterday's fight, meaning us, to sum up the results of our fight and the bad precedent after their agreements... The outcome was that all of us could be punished. Why just "could"?
Information about the fight hadn't yet reached Professor McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey, but among Gryffindors, it spread instantly. And all because someone, apparently, knew in advance — and that was strange. It seemed to me then that they just noticed me and decided to corner me as a group. So the starting point was chance. But these damn rumors reached all of Gryffindor first, and then the Head Boy.
The cunning Ravenclaw, of course, first summoned everyone to the carpet... tomorrow... Hmm... more precisely, already today, before appealing "upstairs." I'll, of course, go with Lucian, but this Vance — he's an omnipresent plug. Before, he sat quietly, peacefully led his house, and this year hadn't even properly started when he got the Head Boy position, and suddenly everything started spinning. At most, I knew there was a certain Ravenclaw prefect and that's it.
I decided to observe them a little, maybe find out what was going on. After all, who would forbid a Slytherin from "accidentally" stumbling upon a group of upper-years? And the fact that the dungeons are far away — means nothing.
I'm joking. Of course, I doubt anything would happen to me in the middle of the corridor, but I don't want to tempt fate. Better to glance at the Map again — see if they're still there.
Not reaching the stairs, I quickly looked around, took out the map, and saw they were still there. I watched the dots for a few seconds, and then, out of habit, scanned the important locations on the map.
"An interesting artifact, isn't it, Mr. Malfoy?" suddenly came an old voice to my left, full of good-natured amusement.
The world narrowed to an icy knot in my chest. At that moment, my consciousness hadn't yet processed whose voice it was, but reflexes acted before thought. My body itself lunged backward, to the side.
My left hand instinctively clutched the map behind my back, and my right hand already aimed my wand, drawn from its shoulder holster faster than my heart could beat again. The wand tip stopped a centimeter from the director's snow-white beard. A spell discharged in the air with a dry pop — a powerful stunning spell evaporated without even stirring the old beard. And I hadn't even had time to stop it.
"Oh-ho!" exclaimed Dumbledore, and in his blue eyes, twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles, genuine admiration flared. "What an astonishing reaction! Truly, the reflexes of a predator. I almost felt a tickle in my beard. Five points to Slytherin for combat prowess!"
I stood, still in a half-crouched stance, trying to catch my breath and process what had happened. HOW?! And more importantly — WHY?! Dumbledore... This was Dumbledore. According to the Map, he should have been in his office — I'd just seen his name there, noting that point of safety at the edge of my consciousness. But now Albus Dumbledore stood half a meter from me, smiling as if he'd caught a student stealing candy from a bowl, not spying via a magical artifact.
And I had just point-blank sent a fairly powerful curse... at the Headmaster! At Dumbledore...
"Professor Dumbledore!" I exhaled, forcibly relaxing my grip on my wand and lowering it, though not putting it away. "I... sincerely apologize for that outburst. I simply didn't expect... anyone to be here... but I understand that doesn't excuse my action."
My gaze slid to the hand behind my back, clutching the parchment. I needed to hide the map. Right now! But this movement didn't escape the observant old wizard's notice.
"Oh, don't worry about it, my boy. I didn't mean to startle you," Dumbledore said softly, tilting his head slightly. His gaze became momentarily penetrating, like an X-ray. "And please, don't hide it. You see... this is my map. Or rather, a map that was entrusted to me. I long thought I had lost it forever. And imagine my joy at discovering that it has been found by such a... vigilant young man."