[N][PT] Undoing Past Mistakes [1/?]

I do not have beta reader. I am not a native speaker. I am so sorry in advance for any mistakes and horrible blasphemies committed against this language. I am truly really sorry. Send help if you want.

(I am in a need of a beta reader, who knows english and MCL universe well).

And last but not the least: BIG THANKS to @centralsaints for giving me some headcanon ideas.

If you want to see how the magic happens you can join my discord server Unlimited Works In Progress

CHAPTER I

PART I

COMING BACK TO TOWN WITH A BLAST!

She sighed and leaned heavily on her crutch, feeling as if it was the only solid foundation supporting her life at this moment of truth.

Azmarie was currently standing in front of the building of her previous school - Sweet Amoris high school - in a city, which she had to abruptly leave behind without being able to even properly say goodbye to everybody she befriended. And now she was here again - in this old life as if she never left. The problem was that she did and knew that after everything what she had done, regaining what was lost won’t come as easily as she sometimes dared to dream.

Especially the friendships and relationships which she shut down all of a sudden without any explanation. It would be also probably the only reason why Rosalya wanted to see her ever again - to get all those answers from her and tell her how much she hurt her, Leigh and… Lysander. As well as their other friends, whom she firstly promised to write with, but then either lied, told them to not bother her ever again or just gave a vague excuse before she cut them out of her life by changing the number. So she really did deserve anything which Rosalya will definitely throw at her after all this time.

It was Azmarie’s fault after all. Only her and nobody else’s.

And that was true, no matter how hard anybody would want to preach it wasn’t. She got scared all on her own without even giving anybody a chance to show her that she may be wrong. She created this canyon-wide abyss between herself and them, and now she is the one who should leap across it.

And she will be damned if she doesn’t do it with a blast.

Scared Azmarie was no longer here, she was left in the past. Now there is only Azmarie determined to get her friends back as long as those very friends want the same. She won’t impose on them if they don’t. She won’t make scenes to make them come back no matter what. If they really say that they do not want to have anything to do with her anymore, she will just move on and leave them be, so they could live their lives peacefully. But firstly she will explain everything and apologize, and let them scream and yell at her as long as they wish to make everything even. She will let them do it as long as they need to put it all in the past, this time for sure. Then and only then Azmarie will be able to back off without any regrets and leave it be, regardless of the outcome.

No matter what happens… she will be fine.

And will even start everything over again in this town if she must.

"Azuni!"

Azmarie jumped like a scaredy-cat and nearly tripped over an invisible rock, before she looked at her enthusiastically waving cousin as if she just done the most unfunny joke ever.

"What's with the face?" she asked when she was already close enough to see that her cousin was displeased.

"You scared me to death, Ivonne!"

The girl chucked and shook her pink-haired head in amusement.

"I just called to you, when you were daydreaming. It's not my fault that you got startled all on your own" she said, smiling mischievously as if it was indeed part of her evil plan all along, even though both of them knew it truly wasn't. She will never change, won't she?

This time it was Azmarie who shook her head.

“You are impossible” she said, but with this tone of voice, which to Vonne sounded more as endearment than disappointment.

“Anyway, I am so glad to see you again!” Vonne smiled and hugged her cousin as hard as she could, apparently not able to contain herself any longer. “How was your trip back here?” The question was quickly followed by a deadly glance at the bus driver who shivered slightly when he felt the judging eyes on his back. Vonne apparently was assuming that he did something unpleasant, which made Azmarie sigh with exasperation.

“It was fine” she said. “Especially after this nice bus driver, whom you just started killing with your gorgon eyes, patiently waited for me to leave the bus without complaining”.

“What an accomplishment indeed” said Vonne unimpressed, but ultimately stopped throwing eye-daggers at the poor soul, so Azmarie considered it a win.

“Be careful. Someone would even start to think that you are the one who has to deal with this on daily basis instead of me” she quipped in response, trying to vaguely bring to Vonne’s attention the fact that she was close to crossing the line.

“Oh, I am sorry!” Vonne instantly flushed and then proceed to explain, while also wildly gesticulating. “It just… after I started being more aware of those issues I’ve become really harsh on myself and others. I didn’t mean to be a bother”.

Azmarie just waved her hand at that.

“It would be truly a blessing if there were more people like you - who care, but also respect the people they protect, but let’s leave that be already, and go on the walk around the town as you promised”.

After hearing that Vonne made this particular kind of weird face, which usually meant that something was or gone wrong.

“Or not?”

“Actually… it looks like there is far more people whom you used to know around here today than usual, so I don’t think it is a good idea to-…”

“Perfect!” Azmarie interjected. “Finally some confrontation. Let’s go!”

And there she went straight into the direction of the university campus, as if she wasn’t at all stressed about this first-second impression she is going to make on the people, who used to be her friends, just a few seconds ago.

Was it the adrenaline or the pure desire to get it all over with already which was driving her?

Vonne wasn’t really sure if she wanted to know.

 

~***~

 

It was supposed to be a day like any other. The same as every other year. Rosalya, like usual, was about to participate in the opening ceremony at the campus and then head up to meet with Alexy, who because of the lack of time to see his friends was organizing a small party for them all. It was already a usual occurrence for him as he was really busy over the past few years, trying to reconcile volunteer work with studying to get his social worker diploma. The ceremony at Fashion Design department thought already ended, so Rosalya decided to stand near the entrance to the campus in hope to catch her friend. With Alexy and his lack of organizing skills it was very much possible that they would never meet otherwise, as they would both surely be walking around missing each other every time. Staying here had then the highest chance of success if Rosalya really wanted to see him at all today.

The problem was that even now he was nowhere to be seen and it was getting on her nerves.

“I swear, if it turns out that he is late, because he got all lovey-dovey with a certain someone again, I am going to tear his ears out!” she muttered angrily to herself, while checking phone for any new messages from Alexy.

She didn’t really pay attention to the people around and that was also a reason why she didn’t notice at first that someone new entered the campus. It probably wasn’t wise if she really wanted to spot Alexy in the crowd, but she was too frustrated at the moment to actually care about that. Not to mention that he would definitely see her when he arrived even if he didn’t want to as Rosalya was the only person on the campus who was wearing a distinctly vintage Victorian inspired clothes. That’s why she really didn’t have to worry, but still decided to look up from the phone just in case if Alexy was too distracted and passed her blindly.

She definitely didn’t expect to see a familiar flock of brown hairs in the crowd. 

She couldn’t believe her own eyes when she finally managed to catch the full image of the person with that very same dark skin, strikingly familiar face, and cute glasses on nicely shaped nose of her long-lost best friend, who was strutting confidently across the campus.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration if we said that Rosalya was seeing it all in some kind of slow motion. Azmarie in the meantime walked gracefully somewhere ahead of herself with a highly raised chin as if her very intention was to face the whole world here and now. She didn’t change much, apart from gaining a few centimeters in height, cutting her hair a little here and there, getting a new pair of stylish glasses and a crutch…

“Wait, a crutch?” 

It shocked Rosalya even more than a sudden return of her friend.

“What happened? Is she feeling alright? Does she need any help? Should I offer her my help even after all what happened between us?” thoughts of those kind in large numbers flooded Rosalya’s mind, while she was watching as Azmarie walked through the crowd with the same glint of determination in her eyes as when she was planning to end someone’s suffering. Just like in the good old days when she was helping their classmates face their problems and deal with them head on during their high school years together at Sweet Amoris.

It was unusual to see her like that out of that specific context, but Rosalya would recognize that gaze everywhere. Even if she looked completely different, it was something which Rosalya would never associate with anybody else in her whole life. That was indeed her Azmarie, her best friend, confidante and sister in arms. The same one who always offered a hand to someone in need. And yet… even though not much changed about her after all those years, she seemed so much different. So much colder and harder to approach than she used to be, or was it just Roza's imagination? 

Rosalya suddenly felt as if the distance between them was greater than the space, which barely covered a square meter of a medium-sized room. Why was that? Why does she feel as if she was looking at her best friend from behind a thick wall of glass?

“I cannot talk to you about this… I am sorry. Please, don’t contact me again…” ringed in Rosalya’s ears so suddenly and loud as if someone just said it straight to her face.

Ah, yes… that was the reason.

They stopped talking and the one who cut the line was Azmarie - her best friend, who used to rely on her when she had problems before, one day suddenly decided to reject Rosalya’s kind soothing words, and chose to wallow in whatever pain she was feeling.

The line was cut once and for all as if with the intention of making it last forever, so when Rosalya tried to reach Azmarie again, there was nothing there to be found anymore. Only an empty signal and disconnected voice relaying the message: 

“The number you’ve dialed does not exist, please check the number and dial again”.

When Rosalya was finally about to snap out of her stupor and move - try to reach to her again, ask what happened, grasp this last chance to get her back - another familiar face appeared next to Azmarie and obscured her vision as if wanting to make the woman in question unaware of Rosalya’s presence on purpose.

“How could she do that?” flew through Rosalya’s head when she watched Vonne and Azmarie walk away in the direction of Art Department. 

It was too much. She couldn’t bear it anymore. Her body started shacking, so she hugged herself to make it stop… or maybe to comfort herself, Rosalya wasn’t really sure which. And it was also how Alexy found her a few minutes later - shocked, upset, angry, but also so, so sad as if whole world has turned upside down and died just a few seconds ago. 

When she finally spoke though, there was not even a single trace of those emotions. Her voice was calm and stern.

“Ask your brother if he knew about any of this” she said without giving any context or explanation with her gestures or eye movements, looking at him as if he betrayed her as well.

“About what exactly? What happened?” asked Alexy, no less confused now than a second ago when he found her crouching on the ground and shacking like a leaf.

“If he knew, he will know what I am talking about” she said before pressing her lips together in a thin line and going after the women who caused her so much pain. Friends, who she was angry at, but couldn’t just leave alone and act as if nothing happened.

Rosalya wanted an explanation, and she will get one even if she has to shake it out of both of them by force. And once she does, she is then going to decide how to appropriately punish them for this drama.

~***~

Just to be sure:
Azmarie = nickname: Azuni
Ivonne = nickname: Vonne
blah blah blah = thoughts or things said in the memories
blah blah blah = highlighting something important or impactful

Also don't worry about the length of this chapter. I used to write 12 pages long chapters before, so... I just gotta get used to writing in english. Or more like get used to writing again at all. I had/have 10 years long writers block after all.

... isn't there too many "she said" in the first part of the chapter? It gets confusing. I gotta work on that.

Also, do you think I exaggerated Rosalya's reaction a bit? I wanted it to be intense, but maybe I made it too intense and unrealistic for her as a character? I made her react like that mostly because I see her as a person who never had such good best friend as Candy before, so losing her in such a manner was probably very painful for Rosalya, who doesn't really get along much with others on daily basis. I cannot like say from memory alone if she was good friends with other girls in Sweet Amoris before Candy appeared and somehow made it possible. So that's from me. I see her as this kind of person.

Speaking of which, if any disabled person reads this, please tell me if I am too obnoxious with disability talk. I am not disabled myself, but I am trying my best to portray Candy properly, but also because I try so much I think I can come off as trying a little too much at times. I do not want it to look fake or unnecessary, so please speak up and scold me if you see me going into "oh, she is an able-bodied person trying to write disabled character and failing" zone too much.

[N][PT] Warden's Disease [1/?]

I'm not a medical professional, so some things may be off. I only have Google and my ability to properly use it as my backup.

If you want to see how the magic happens you can join my discord server Unlimited Works In Progress

CHAPTER I

FIRST SYMPTOMS

Anders was so tired.

They just finished fighting some slavers or some other unpleasant inhabitants of the Wounded Coast, when he felt it hitting him like a hammer. The bone deep exhaustion born from hours upon hours of cleaning and bandaging wounds, and healing the injuries that could and needed to be mended with magic, as the other methods would be just simply insufficient, too risky, or end in the patient’s long and painful death if not treated then and there.

It caught him off guard to the point that he visibly stumbled and would have fallen on his knees and palms to the ground if he didn’t manage to use his staff to support himself until the feeling became a little less prominent and allowed him to actually stand upright.

He didn’t know how long he will be able to keep it up, though.

He had more and more things that needed to be done, and less and less time and energy to actually complete any of them. On top of being the full time Darktown healer, he also had Mage Underground to worry about every now and then, and more frequently than that Hawke’s little treks up and down the city or outside either on the coast or in the mountains.

Sometimes he wondered how did he manage to do it for so long without any issue.

Was it Justice’s influence? Was it his own determination to be useful to the only person that showed him care and compassion in this cruel world, besides of course Varric and Isabela?

Was he truly so hopelessly in love with Hawke that he would keep up this mad pace for so long? He couldn’t really put it past himself, but something was definitely not right. Was it just a burnout effect that he was feeling now, due to barely any time for proper rest in between of all of his numerous responsibilities, or was his age finally catching up to him at last?

If any of those were true, then it was probably good that he was not invited to the trip to the Sundermount that Hawke was planning next. He would probably just become a dead weight, and he really didn’t want to burden Aregor even more than he already did.

Who said that there were no little mercies for him after all? He will finally have enough time to rest, and hopefully Hawke would not even notice there was any issue in the first place.

***

“Why are we even visiting the clinic?” asked Sebastian, hastily avoiding the puddle of something he would rather not investigate too closely. “You don’t even like Anders, so why the sudden care? I bet he is right as a rain, doing whatever vile things he is doing there”.

Fenris sighed, once again thinking that he should bring Sebastian here more often. He may not like Anders and actively disagree with everything that the man said, but despite being a dangerous abomination on the loose, Fenris knew that Anders did only good for the people of Darktown. That there were no vile blood magic rituals, or any conspiracy going on there. Just a place of healing for all that were ignored and discarded by the society and its Chantry. Sebastian did know that Sisters were not visiting Darktown. He even commented on it a few times when they were here, so it wouldn’t be hard to show him that where the Chantry failed, people like Anders did something good and asked nothing in return. Not even the donations he received from people of Lowtown, Hawke, and his grateful patients when they could share.

“Mage was behaving strangely during the last few missions with Hawke, so before Aregor, Merrill, Aveline and Isabela left for the Sundermount, I was asked to check on him once in a while” answered Fenris. He was not happy about the task that was given to him, but he knew it was important, so he was not complaining. “Hawke was worried about him, that’s all I need”.

“You don’t seem eager” commented the prince, to which Fenris responded with a shrug.

He was not, as talking to Anders was always such a chore, but he was willing to sacrifice his good mood and a bit of time to ensure that Hawke would not have to worry too much and in consequence hurt himself during the trip. Maker knew what they will encounter there.

“Is his work here truly that exhausting?” asked Sebastian curiously, looking around for the patients and seeing nobody. They were already pretty close, so it was peculiar that there was nobody around, no stragglers loitering close to the clinic’s doors waiting for their turn, no queue, nothing.

“Usually there are a few people. I am not familiar with how busy the clinic is exactly in the long term, or how it could be if something unexpected happened, but he is usually busy”.

“You said you noticed him stumbling?” Fenris only nodded at that in confirmation. “I saw it too. He nearly had fallen on the last errant we had together. There were a lot of slavers on the coast, so we run into a few groups one after another. He seemed more and more tired after each battle we had that day. More than normal I would say, as usually he was less tired than me, which I always kind of assumed was due to his Grey Warden enhanced stamina”.

Sebastian seemed to contemplate what he just said. Fenris was too. It was true that the mage was more tired and less robust recently. The fact that he noticed was a proof enough.

“That’s why we are checking on him. I might despise what he stands for, but if something happens to him, we will be short of a healer, and not having access to proper treatment can be far more dangerous in a city as corrupt and full of crime like Kirkwall”.

Fenris didn’t say more, because the very thought that he was doing it out of his own worry instead of the clear pragmatism was absurd, and he tried to bury it very deep until it perished. He noticed that Anders was lacking energy recently, but didn’t think more about it until Hawke brought it up, all concerned about Anders’ well-being. It surely must be mage’s fault in some way. Poor sleep management or spending too much time over his ridiculous manifesto.

“Well… then I hope we will meet his snappy asshole self, because then at least we will be sure that he is alright and nothing is amiss”.

Fenris couldn’t agree more. He never would have thought that he will feel uneasy with Anders all calm and quiet. Not at all responsive to any jab he may indirectly aim at him while sharing his opinion during the quests they went on, but if it meant something was truly wrong, he would rather prefer the anger and yelling or a whole tirade about mage rights than whatever they may find when they arrive at the clinic… that for some reason seemed to be closed today.

“Did he say he will be out today, or…” asked Sebastian inspecting the locked door.

“No. Usually the clinic is open during this hour” responded Fenris, looking at the darkened lamp near them that usually indicated if Healer of Darktown was taking patients, and then at the people around. There was nobody waiting there, just like they noticed previously.

Sebastian knocked on the door and waited, but there was no response, then looked at Fenris and shrugged. Could it be that the clinic was truly closed today? Was Anders busy with something else?

“We should ask one of the locals. They will know if mage went somewhere” he decided, and then they moved quickly up the closest stairs to find someone they could ask. Not far away they stumbled upon a young boy, whom Fenris recognized as one of the helpers at the clinic.

They stopped in front of his cot and leveled themselves to be crouching in front of him. Both for the convenience during the conversation and also to not threaten the poor boy. The kid looked at them suspiciously, and even the sight of the golden coin didn’t change that. Varric and Hawke said something about people of Darktown being fiercely protective of their Healer, but he never thought before that even a golden coin would be far less valuable than having Anders around. Well, he should have known. He said so himself. Not having access to a decent treatment was dangerous if not outright deadly in Kirkwall, so it made sense.

“We may not look like it, but we didn’t come here to take away your Healer. We are Hawke’s companions, and we wanted to know if the Healer said he had any business to attend to today?” asked Fenris carefully, trying not to give the boy any more reason to mistrust them.

“We noticed that the clinic was closed, but he didn’t say anything about it last time we saw each other” added Sebastian helpfully. “You don’t have to say when or where”.

The kid measured them both as if judging if they were lying, but then after a few moments of intense staring he took the coin from Fenris, sniffed, and said “Healer didn’t open the clinic. We all thought that he just went away with Messere Hawke, as we usually do, when clinic is closed. So either you are both lying about being his companions, or he truly didn’t leave”.

Fenris and Sebastian looked at each other, and then at the boy.

“Did any of you saw him leaving?” asked Sebastian.

“No, but we assumed that he may have left early, when nobody was up yet to see him leave, and go through the cellar”. Well, that was at least something.

“Thank you, we will check if he used it”.

They both quickly backtracked and climbed through the cellar to the Amell estate, where they met Bodahn and Sandal, already busy even though Hawke was not around.

“Ah, messere Fenris and messere Sebastian! How can I help you today?”

“Did Anders by any chance used the cellar today?”

“No, messere Sebastian. The cellar entrance is usually closed during the night from this side, and I open it every morning just in case serrah Anders needed to use it. That is the arrangement between him and messere Hawke, that at night the cellar is only open on the Darktown side, in case there was some emergency and serrah Anders needed to hide. The doors on Amell estate side are to be opened only if serrah Anders gives a clear sign”.

Fenris never thought about this, but that seemed reasonable. If the entrance was open at all times, it posed a risk to Hawke. There were dangerous people at night that could accidentally find the entrance and go all the way to Amell estate, and if not kill Hawke, then at least rob him blind. Better to avoid tempting fate like this. But if this was true it meant that Anders was not seen leaving the clinic, and didn’t come here, which meant that…

“He is still in the clinic” said Fenris, suddenly full of worry.

“That’s… but why he would not respond?” tried Sebastian, to no avail. He also was concerned now. Despite his clear mistrust of Anders in general, he seemed to care just a bit.

Fenris didn’t respond and run down the cellar tunnel back to Darktown.

“Thank you for your help, Bodahn!” yelled Sebastian, while running after his friend.

After a few minutes, they found themselves upon the clinic's door again.

“Can you open it without damaging the lock?”

“I can try. But still, why didn’t he open the door if he was there?”

“Maybe he couldn’t” said Fenris quickly.

“Or maybe he was just making fun of us for trying to keep tabs on him” replied Sebastian, while fiddling with the lock, but he didn’t seem convinced. If Anders was there, he would surely open the clinic by now, if not for them then for the patients, both of them knew that. This knowledge, however, wasn’t helping with the matter at hand.

“Done!” Both of them rushed into the room.

Everything around looked normal. Peaceful. As if nothing unusual happened. They went around the main room looking for Anders, but didn’t see him until finally, at the very back of the room, Fenris spotted a shadow on the ground. “There!”

Fenris was there first, and surely they have found Anders, lying unconscious on the ground, his breaths calm and shallow. He would look as if he was sleeping if not for his pale face. Fenris put a hand on his forehead, but there was no heat, and no sweat either.

“What do you think happened to him?” asked Sebastian, hovering behind.

“I am not a healer, but I will try to check. Help me put him on the closest cot” he replied, and soon they heaved Anders’ surprisingly heavy body for how little he seemed to eat up, and laid him carefully on the cot, where Fenris would be able to look more closely at him.

“I am not sure, but it looks like overwork was the cause” said Fenris after a few minutes of diligent inspection, while checking the pulse and iris reaction just to be sure.

“How do you know?” inquired Sebastian.

“He clearly slept, as there are no dark shadows under his eyes, so he didn’t pass out from lack of it. However, now when he is sleeping, I can hear that his resting heart rate is higher than it should be. Other than this, we both saw him stumbling, but beyond that, when he wasn’t surprisingly quiet he was more distracted and irritated than usual lately. Prolonged bad mood is also a sign of overwork”.

Sebastian nodded as if to agree it was all true. “Should we wait till he wakes up?”

Fenris looked at Anders, still unsure if his diagnosis was correct. If it was truly just overwork catching up with the mage, wouldn’t Justice step in and wake him up by now?

“That would be best. He is alone and vulnerable now, and I would rather not leave it to chance that he won’t wake up at all if we leave or someone will break into the clinic”.

They waited an hour, maybe two, before Anders finally stirred and groaned, signalling that he is in fact still alive. Fenris moved closer to help him sit up straight, while Sebastian went to prepare some herbs to drink for the mage.

“Ugh… Fenris? What are you doing here?”

There was a slur in the mage’s voice that Fenris really didn’t like.

“We came to check up on you and found you passed out on the floor” replied Fenris, before moving aside, so Sebastian could provide Anders with the steaming mug of herbal tea. Mage looked at the drink, and then at them confused, but accepted the mug and drank from it.

“How are you feeling?” asked the prince curiously.

“As if I was hit by a bronto, or stomped at by a drake… how long was I out?”

“We came around noon, so it should be past 2PM now”.

Anders groaned in frustration. “I remember waking up at the usual hour, and then when I was preparing to open the clinic, suddenly the world tilted and then…” he shrugged.

“Do you know what caused this?”

Anders sighed. “If I were to guess, I would bet I was too exhausted and my body just gave out, as overwork is something that cannot be just pushed away with one or several good night's sleep”.

Fenris nodded at that, even though he still thought that something was not right here. He didn’t think that Anders was lying, but the fact that Justice didn’t make an appearance just to at least put his mage back in bed instead of leave him on the cold ground for the most part of the day, didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t know if that was common, but he assumed that if Anders was unable to move, Justice would take over the body in his place. Which was a little disturbing if he really thought about it, and also the reason why he didn’t mention it out loud. He didn’t want Sebastian to mistrust the mage even more. Even Fenris, who expressed healthy wariness of mages, was reluctant to see Justice as a threat to the clinic that he wanted to protect, but Sebastian saw this issue differently, so he decided not to risk it.

“Will you be alright now?” asked Fenris, earning himself a raised brow from both Anders and Sebastian. He should really try to sound less worried and more like his usual self, especially considering that he didn’t even know why he was fussing over the mage like this.

“Yes, don’t worry about me” said Anders, smirking at him, which was actually a pretty good incentive to make him stop caring at all if he did. But he did not. Fenris scowled at him in return.

“Fine. We will be going back then” he rose to his feet and headed outside. “Try to not drop dead while at it”. Sebastian huffed in amusement at his sudden change in attitude, and then went after him, saying at the end. “Your patients and we as well need you alive”.

***

Anders’ should have known that nothing can end well for him.

He thought that he will have time to rest, which was true, but hoping that Hawke will not notice that anything is wrong was apparently beyond his measly luck, considering that he sent Fenris and Sebastian to check on him, when he was away. Figures.

Anders sighed and stared into his tea.

He told Fenris that it was exhaustion, but he was not so sure himself. Something odd was happening. Normally, if he lost consciousness like that, Justice would react in some way. He often didn’t understand that Anders needed to rest, so it was common for him to just wake Anders up whenever he was knocked up. Could it be that Justice realized that Anders needed to be left alone and that’s why he didn’t appear? It was possible, considering the fact that he was found on the floor. Justice didn’t have a body before Kristoff, and Kristoff was dead so his body’s ability to feel was also damaged, hence why Justice didn’t need to eat, sleep, or even just lie down on something comfortable simply because he wanted to. He could now feel a bit of that through Anders, but he still didn’t see it as necessary for rest, which his body will probably keep reminding him off for the next few days.

A thought to berate the spirit for this arose in his mind, but there was no responding stir that he grew to associate with Justice. The feeling that he knew was his, but yet wasn’t. Usually when they communicated, it was without words. Justice had a hard time relaying his will in a body that had a will of its own like a living body instead of a corpse he inhabited previously, so his responses were mostly stirs of feelings that Anders needed to learn to distinguish from his own, and now it was easier for him to see when spirit was responding and when not.

It was however unexpected that Justice didn’t raise to his bait. Did something happen? He searched his mind looking for something, the most fickle of feelings that may have been Justice, and soon he found only a small feeling of reassurance responding to his probing for answers, but nothing concrete. What was Justice doing that his response was something that Anders could roughly translate to “It will be ok?”. That really didn’t help him not to worry!

He sighed again, this time in frustration, then finished his tea, and opened the clinic.

Hopefully whatever is wrong with him will pass soon. He didn’t like the idea of dealing with Hawke and his overprotectiveness. Knowing him, Aregor would find a way to insert himself into his life and force him to stop doing anything until they learned what was happening.

Anders didn’t have time for something like this. He had a revolution to plan.

And he really didn’t need any handsome men to hinder him.

~***~

I seriously wondered if making Fenris and Sebastian run around Darktown frantically isn't a bit too much, but in the end I decided to leave it, because they may dislike Anders, but he is their only healer and if something happened, and they did nothing it'd be bad. Not to mention that Fenris is already interested in Anders, he is just in denial about it. Sebastian is a good friend that will run around with you if needed. As you can see, I'm also fanoning the Clinic a bit, because in the clinic in the game they would probably spot him outright. Let's just say there were obstacles on the way that made them not see him at first.

 

[N][PT] The Eternal Sith Empire of Old [1/?]

Yes, this is my shameless SWTOR / Movie Era crossover.

If you want to see how the magic happens you can join my discord server Unlimited Works In Progress

CHAPTER I

THE ACCUSATION OF THE SITH EMPIRE

“Execute order 66” said the cloaked figure in a deep raspy voice.

All of the clones who heard the message, flinched and went suddenly very still. Unnaturally so that it gained the attention of some of the Jedi in charge of them, while the others stayed conveniently oblivious to the situation at hand.

Ahsoka Tano looked at her friend, Captain Rex, clearly worried about his well being when his expression suddenly closed off as if he was suffering from something.

She didn’t hear the message he received just before she entered the room, but it must have been something bad if Rex reacted like that. It was pretty uncommon for him to act like that though, that’s why she had to make sure he was alright. Especially considering that he still held her on the other end of his own blaster.

“Do you need a friendly ear by any chance?” she asked, hoping for a positive reaction, her hands raised as if she was trying to appease a spooked animal that could impale her on its horns at any moment.

To her disappointment he shook his head, before throwing his blaster as far away from himself as he possibly could. The weapon hit the opposite wall with a loud noise, making Ahsoka flinch involuntarily, not really accustomed to such behavior.

“Was it really so bad that he felt the urge to express his frustration via violence?” she thought to herself. “Or maybe he was simply angry and needed an outlet?”

“I really think we should talk about this though” she pressed.

“No need. I am fine now” he smiled at her as if nothing happened.

And then he took out the holoprojector once again and made a call to the void.

Ahsoka furrowed her brows. 

“What is going on?” she asked herself, not knowing that she wasn’t the only one.

 

***

 

“Execute order 66” rang in their thoughts as the clones across the galaxy turned towards their respective Jedi commanders and like one interconnected unit raised their blasters at them… just to throw them on the ground in the next second.

No matter the situation around, they needed to do this. They had to throw away the object of their shame and the crime they all didn’t commit, but were supposed to.

It didn’t matter that they got weird looks or were cursed out to hell and back for their reckless behavior in the face of war or imminent death. This was an order, everything else was secondary to upholding it after it was given. They didn’t have a choice.

 

***

 

Various Jedi across the galaxy in turn looked at their respective commandos as if they just grew another head. Some wondered confusedly what was happening, while the others got worried over their respective subordinates or friends.

“Kriff, blasted clones!”

While yet different ones yelled angrily, while dragging the clones out of the blaster fire or protecting them with their lightsabers, reflecting the blasts at their enemies.

Not a single one of them knew about the order, so they couldn’t understand the sudden change in basically all of the clones which surrounded them. They couldn’t know, even though some were aware that clones were programmed to follow orders.

Putting two and two together would be easy if they didn’t lack this one puzzle piece - the information that there were specific orders only few could give and that there was in fact an inhibitor chip in the clones’ brains which forced them to obey them.

That’s why it was surprising to the Jedi when every single squad of clones, who till now served them all extremely well, suddenly dropped their weapons and stopped fighting. Especially if they were in the middle of the battle. Fortunately for the clones, the order also included a command "to take cover if attacked", which saved a lot of lives from perishing in the warzones. They couldn't however, continue fighting.

“What is wrong with you, all of the sudden?!” thundered Quinlan Vos, trying to protect as many clones as he could, despite his very well known dislike of them all. Normally he wouldn't care about any of them, but apparently today was not his day.

Not even a single one tried to respond to him. They were too focused on the single holo projector of their commander in charge, waiting for the message from across the galaxy to come. Because then and only then, when it was finally delivered to those who needed to know, they were going to be freed from their programming. The person who gave this order didn't want any of them to miss out on this.

“Well, that at least makes this battle a little more interesting” said Ventress, clearly ignoring the situation at hand, despite seeing that it fretted her lover. Quinlan only growled, not at all amused by the whole thing and the fact that he was stuck providing cover. Clones were supposed to fight, not become civilians in need of protection all of the sudden. "Try having some fun, while at it?" She added, smiling at him sharply.

 

***

 

Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi in the meantime were walking through the hallways of the Galactic Senate, looking for Senator Padme Amidala to deliver her a message that the Battle of Coruscant was already over and they won.

The only clone with them was always loyal and vigilant Cody, who trotted just behind them, providing very unnecessary cover “just in case” they were attacked. It wasn’t very likely, considering where they were, but after Jedi Master Mace Windu turned out to be a traitor, the clones in the capital felt especially on edge.

Obi-Wan never would have thought that something like that will ever happen. He would never ever try to prepare himself for the reality in which he will have to witness a betrayal of a friend two times in his entire life, but thanks to the fact that he knew them, he also was aware that Mace, whatever he planned, wouldn't attack.

Not them at least and not now, if he could help it. Not so soon.

Mace, however painful it was to say now, was one of the best of them. He knew how to proceed in order to get exactly the outcome he wanted and it saved the Jedi Order a lot of times. Which, when Obi-Wan was thinking about it now, seemed strange, considering that his desired outcome wouldn’t probably allow him to be labelled as a traitor if he truly was one, right? Maybe there was something more to it…?

Just like when Quin had to go undercover and everything quickly went to shit?

Still, those who strayed from the path of Light were never really easy to understand. Obi-Wan knew that especially well thanks to his numerous encounters with Asajj Ventress, who despite being a loyal Sith, helped him a lot of times as well.

Not to mention that she even helped Quin reach Count Dooku. Whatever her reasons were, he already knows them or at least suspects that they had something to do with revenge, considering that Dooku was her Master and also the one who betrayed her.

She had a personal business in all of this, while Quin was ordered by the Jedi Council to assassinate the Count. Could it be that Mace was doing something similar? But why would he then target the Chancellor after he already killed Dooku?

It made no sense, and Obi-Wan had no time to spare to think about it now. He promised himself though that he will meditate on that later. When he is alone and not spacing out in the middle of the walk.

Now when he was finally fully back from his mind ventures, he suddenly noticed that he no longer heard Cody’s footsteps behind his back. Going by Anakin’s furrowed brow and side-glances in his direction, he must have noticed it first.

Obi-Wan stopped moving and looked behind himself, inclining his head to his… friend? Comrade? Subordinate? He didn’t know, but he wanted to be aware of any issues, if there were any, which Cody found concerning enough to slow them down.

“Did something happen, Cody?” he asked in a nice, but slightly teasing tone.

The man flinched slightly, but didn’t respond, which was odd. Obi-Wan furrowed his brows, exchanged a look with Anakin, who shrugged his shoulders and both of them proceeded to come all the way back to Cody to learn what was happening.

“Why are you holding a holo projector?” asked Anakin, pointing at the device which was connecting to nothing in particular as of this moment. Weird.

Obi-Wan felt himself tensing up all of the sudden.

“Waiting for the message, sir” replied Cody stiffly. Too stiffly to be normal for him.

Not to mention that Obi-Wan didn’t like the answer in the slightest. 

It concerned him.

“Are you sure everything is ok?” pressed Obi-Wan, now clearly worried, but trying to hide it behind the mask of nonchalance. “If something is wrong, you can say it”.

Cody nodded stiffly, continuing to stare into the holo projection.

“You know, we really don’t have time for staring into nothing now, but we can always do that later, when we already dealt with our business here” jested Anakin, trying to lift the awkward atmosphere, but to no avail. Cody didn’t stop waiting.

His insubordination was becoming more and more worrying by the minute, which despite all his training made Obi-Wan feel on edge. 

Something was clearly wrong with Cody, and as much as Jedi teachings didn’t allow him to form attachments with others, he still cared about the clone.

Obi-Wan considered briefly sending Anakin along, but if there was something, which could keep him away from the one he loved, it was definitely a friend in need.

So surprisingly, they both were on the same page here.

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. 

He didn’t know why Cody suddenly started acting strangely, but he was sure that whatever was happening meant something greater than it looked.

As if on cue, the holo projection shimmered, when someone stepped in front of the device on the other side. The person was not anybody they would know though.

A young woman - or at least she looked young to Obi-Wan, he was bad at guessing ages these days, when everybody looked so young to him now as he was older - with a short ponytail stood straight in front of them, still somehow giving a vibe of authority despite not being clothed in anything specifically distinguishable. 

Her most distinct characteristics were nearly invisible through holo pointy ears.

“Who is that” asked Anakin, peering closely at the figure as if she was a small statue, which he had to pay a lot of attention to in order to see it properly.

Cody didn’t respond, clearly waiting for the person to speak.

“Cody?” The tone of his voice probably showed how worried he was, but he didn’t care anymore. Cody never acted like this before, so whoever this person was they better explain why his commander is acting like that or Obi-Wan will make them.

As if knowing that they were stretching the silence too much and therefore crossing the invisible limit of Obi-Wan’s patience, the person started speaking.

“Sheev Palpatine” she started in an authoritative tone, not seeming to really care that she was addressing the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic “we thereby recognize you as the traitor to the Sith Empire and Empress Alora of the Sith.

Shock on Obi-Wan’s face was only matched by the ridiculousness in Anakin’s tone.

“What?!” he exclaimed in utter surprise.

They both stared dumbfounded at the figure in front of them, not even knowing that they weren’t the only ones. Jedi generals across the galaxy were as confused, surprised and wide-eyed as the two of them were here right now.

“For issuing the order, which initially was created to make you the most powerful being in the Galaxy, we recognize you as Sith, and we see you as the one who intends to challenge the Empress of the Sith. You are thereby our enemy” continued the woman, completely ignoring the reactions on the other end of the holo frequency.

“Wait, Sith Empire? The very same Sith Empire which doesn’t exist anymore?” Obi-Wan’s thoughts were racing. “What the kriff? It was supposed to be long dead and defeated by the Republic during the Jedi-Sith War! What’s going on? Why did the Jedi Order not know about the Sith milling around the galaxy? Why did they think that there were only two of them, the late Count Dooku and his Master, if in fact there was a whole Empire out there just waiting to make the contact!?”

“Wait… wait, wait, wait, wait. If this is the Sith Empire” Anakin put the unnecessary emphasis on “the” to drive his point home “then why aren’t we fighting them?”

“That’s a good question,” replied Obi-Wan.

“And what’s more. Why are we fighting a stupid and unjust war over principles with the Separatists if there is an actual threat out there just waiting for us to deal with!?”

“Yes, Anakin, we know. Now, can you please, shut up for five seconds? I am trying to listen” that earned him a snort from Cody, which made Obi-Wan relax just a little. It looked like he wasn’t completely out of his usual self if he could laugh at them still.

Anakin crossed his arms on his chest, clearly irritated, but silent nonetheless.

“We can see clearly as day that you are aspiring to become the next Sith Emperor and that's unfortunate not only because of the fact that you challenge our leader” she said as if it was the most immature, but also clearly predictable thing to happen. “The previous Sith Emperor was a maniac who wanted to kill the whole Galaxy in order to sustain his own immortality”.

Both Obi-Wan and Anakin listened attentively, trying to unravel the motivation of their sworn enemies which led them to contact the Jedi directly. As of now though it sounded like a lot of made up bullshit, which made them both grimace at the woman.

“He was the one who once united Jedi and Sith in a crusade against him, and he shall unite us again thanks to you, the one stepping in his footsteps” she paused as if trying to build effective suspense. “We are the ones who opposed him and took him down once upon a time, and we will oppose and take down you as well”.

After those words the signal cut out, leaving only ringing silence in its wake.

Silence didn’t last long though as Anakin quickly let everybody know what he thinks about this whole situation in a way which aligned with the feelings of all of them.

“What, to the kriff, happened just now?”

Obi-Wan stared at the inactive holo projector for a while, trying to wrap his head around everything that just happened, while Anakin bore holes in his arm, clearly waiting for him to respond to him, like a five year old he sometimes acted like.

He sighed after a while, tired of his scrutiny and looked at Cody, who stared at the holo projector as well. His face showing confusion and weirdly something akin to aimlessness, just as if something else happened and he was unsure what to do next.

It disappeared behind a mask of formality the moment when he became aware that Obi-Wan was looking straight at him, but it was already too late to hide it. Deciding to leave it be for now, the older Jedi smiled at his commander kindly.

“It’s good to have you back, Cody. You had me worried there for a while”.

“I am sorry, sir. I really don’t know why I did that” he said nonplussed. “But I can assure you that it will not happen again”.

“It’s fine, Cody”.

“Ekhm” Anakin decided to remind them of his existence by clearing his throat.

“Yes, Anakin?” asked Obi-Wan in a slightly teasing tone.

“What do you think that was all about?”

“Well… it looks like the Sith Empire decided to join forces with the Republic” he replied nonchalantly, making both Anakin and Cody grunt in incredulity at him.

“And people say I am the irresponsible one”.

“Because you are, Anakin”.

Cody snorted a laugh, and everything was fine for just a few more minutes, before they all had to face the completely ridiculous reality in which the Sith Empire accused the Supreme Chancellor of being a Sith and declared to take him down.

 

***

 

Padme was startled by the new information, but didn’t seem surprised, which kind of grated on Anakin’s nerves, but he couldn’t really say anything if he didn’t want to face the wrath of his soon to be secret wife, additionally boosted by the pregnancy.

“Was she really believing those, those… Siths? Unbelievable! The Chancellor wasn’t a Sith!” he fumed to himself, while Obi-Wan and Padme discussed how to break to the Senate the information about the casualties of the so-called Battle of Coruscant.

Padme was of course aware that he was displeased and even called him out on that a few times, disguising all of it as jokes between her and his Master, the heathen. He really felt sometimes that the day when Obi-Wan and Padme got to know each other better was also the day when they both started planning his doom as they both seemed to enjoy his irritation too much for all of it to not be some kind of setup.

“Anakin, can you please stop pouting and listen to our conversation? I will know if you ask R2 to relay everything to you later and I already told him not to do that”.

“It was definitely a setup”, he thought as he smiled at his beloved and rejoined the conversation, acting as if he was listening all along, which was of course a lie they both knew about and didn’t want him to ever live it down.

“Good to have you with us again, Anakin,” said Obi-Wan in a mock pleasantry. “We were just talking about how wonderful it was that you saved the Chancellor”.

“No you weren’t, because we both did it and you would never allow me to take credit for that if you were there too. Stop making fun of me you two”.

Obi-Wan just smirked at him in reply.

In turn Anakin promised himself to do something nasty to his robes later.

“Better tell me what you were actually talking about” he put an emphasis on the word “actually”, knowing well enough that they will tell him that anyway, even if they will make fun of him still for his inattention. It was not the first time it happened.

“We were actually thinking if we could use this battle to our advantage and preach the necessity of abolishing the clone army and once again try to talk things through” said Padme. “It won’t be easy, but so many deaths could actually change some minds.

“Or actually make the Senate think the army is ineffective and needs better training” added Obi-Wan. “Which would mean more money for the Kaminoans to continue with their cloning experiments. Recently there was some interest in the unit 99”.

“The infamous Bad Batch? They want more clones like them?”

“Not many, but some did express that need, though they wanted them to be made more loyal to the Republic, which could mean usage of some inhuman techniques”.

Cody shifted uncomfortably in the background when hearing this, which seemed logical. It would affect his future brothers and he was definitely worried about them.

“Yeah, that sounds like something we should prevent,” agreed Obi-Wan.

“If I may” said Cody suddenly, but unsure if he should speak at all.

“Huh, weird” thought Anakin, and he knew Obi-Wan had the exact same thought.

Cody fidgeted a bit, and he never fidgeted which was even more weird, before he finally straightened his back, saluted and seemingly full of determination blurted.

“They already used shady techniques on us in the past”.

His awkward cough after saying this sounded like an explosion in ensuing silence.

“What do you mean” asked Padme gently.

“The message we got today…” he started slowly with the face of a person who was saying something they knew, but didn’t remember how they got in the possession of the information. “It wasn’t just a message. It was tied to the set of pre-programmed commands which all clones respond to. We all listened to the message as per the directive and after that something… changed. I suddenly know about the directives I wasn't aware of before and I also know where they come from, who implanted them and why, as well as I am now aware that I no longer have to listen to them”.

That… was a lot.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” asked Anakin in surprise, trying to process it.

“All clones were implanted with bioorganic inhibitor chips which ensure our loyalty to the Republic. That is how we were programmed to follow the orders of the Jedi, but… there were directives there, hidden, which were supposed to force us to harm you all, and we wouldn’t have the choice, we would have to follow the order. We would lose the ability to control our bodies and kill whoever we were told to”.

“That’s horrifying!” gasped Padme, while Obi-Wan looked concerned by what he just heard. And probably not only by this, but that it was somehow connected to the Sith.

“How do you know it is not fabricated information?”

“With all due respect, General Kenobi, but I had those orders implanted in my head. I was aware of their existence even if I usually didn’t have access to them. Not to mention that not so long ago Rex filed a report about a faulty inhibitor chip. The whole ordeal ended with the death of one of the Jedi generals and lack of any real investigation, which was in fact compromised by the people in charge of it”.

“Kaminoans” breathed Padme, as if finally connecting the dots. “They did that to you all, they programmed you and they also covered up the possible slip up”.

Cody nodded grimly, while Obi-Wan hummed.

“But why would they do that?” asked Anakin. “I don’t see anything which would explain why Kaminoans wanted clones to turn against us, so it must be false”.

“Not necessarily” replied Obi-Wan. “It may not even be something they planned themselves, but something which was set up a long time ago by someone else”.

“Like who?” asked Padme. “There are not really many people who could have easily orchestrated that, not to mention that the clones were ordered before the war…” she trailed off, furrowing her brows. “Wait, who even ordered them and why?”

“That’s a very good question, Padme. Not only were they already in full production when the war started, but they were ordered by someone we don’t know, someone who must have predicted that war is imminent… or someone who orchestrated it”.

“Count Dooku?” guessed Anakin.

“No. He was smart, but not that well versed in intrigue on such scale”.

Anakin stared at his Master for a bit, before he finally caught up to his thoughts.

“Darth Sidious?”

“Yes, that’s exactly who I think is behind it all" answered Obi-Wan immediately glancing at Cody - as he was the only one in the room with most of the answers for this particular issue - who quickly confirmed his suspicion with another nod, "and I cannot stress how convenient all of that is, considering the message we received earlier”.

“Don’t you tell me you actually believe those Siths?” said Anakin incredulously.

“No, of course not, but something doesn’t add up here and we need to know what”.

“Leave it all to me” declared Padme, drawing their attention to herself. “I think I know how to get more information, without tipping off the possible suspects”.

Anakin really didn’t like what she was implying here, or the way in which he thought he knew her plans were going. The last thing he wanted was to let Padme have a nice tea party with someone who could have killed her with just a snap of their hand, but sadly she was too stubborn for even him to be able to stop her now.

 

***

 

Soon after that, basically in the middle of an all out argument between members of the Jedi Council about what to do with the so-called “new threat”, a huge fleet jumped out of hyperspace near the Coruscant. The ships bore the resemblance to the Republic vessels, but were of an older design than the modern ones. They all also were adorned with a crest, which was strangely similar to the symbol of the Galactic Republic. It confused most of the people who saw them, including the Jedi Council itself, but Master Yoda, despite being born after the conflict, knew what it meant.

The flag on their vessels, which they could see through the holo transmission from one of their capital ships in orbit, was not the one of the Sith Empire they would know. At least not the one of any current era, as theirs was representing the symbol which the Empire used during the time of the Old Republic. The very same which was later taken over after the Jedi-Sith War and adapted as Republic crest in a sign of victory.

Yoda knew it only because he was taught by one of the Masters from his species, who was alive at the time and could relay this knowledge to him. He was very adamant that Yoda needed to commit it to his memory as it was soon to be erased from the Jedi Archives as well. He didn’t think much about it then, but his Master must have known that the Sith Empire isn’t truly gone, or at least believed it will come back.

Funny how fate can twist and wriggle around to make such information significant. At the moment though it was irrelevant as they had much more troublesome issues to handle. Like for example the blockade around Coruscant issued nicely - with a peace flag and a message of no aggression no less - by the very same Sith Empire, claiming that they don’t want their suspect to run away, on top of their more insidious and pressing problem with the rogue Jedi who tried to kill the Chancellor.

After that message the argument, which the arrival of the Sith fleet interrupted, was again in full force. Making the Jedi Masters bicker amongst themselves like children - which most of them were to Yoda anyway, considering how old he actually was - while Yoda himself was silent, deep in thought. Thinking about this whole situation.

It was just truly mystifying that the Sith Empire targeted the very same person as Mace Windu, insisting that he is a Sith and a traitor to non-existent morals of the Siths. They already had a case of a Jedi falling to the Dark Side in Quinlan Vos recently, who hopefully will come around just like Obi-Wan claimed, but having another one so soon, what's more a Councilor in the Jedi Order at that, worried Yoda greatly.

It was nearly as if something else was at work here. Something evil. Something which wanted to disturb the whole galaxy and push it into the century of darkness for real.

Yoda looked through a window at the sky, even from here being able to notice the shapes of the fleet occupying Coruscant, as well as the ships of the Republic which flanked them, fully ready to attack just in case it was all a set up, and hummed.

“In the interesting but dangerous times we live. Prepared for the worst we need to be. Yes, hrrmmm” he said to nobody in particular, but still managed to capture the attention of the whole room, which also swiftly ended the ongoing argument.

~***~

Just saying that the pairings in the tags will be expanded and the ones for Obi-Wan x Quinlan Vos and Obi-Wan x Asajj Ventress are there, because those pairings WILL happen, but it is not established yet. The only established relationship as of now is Quinlan Vos x Asajj Ventress. Not counting Anidala and F!Sith Warrior x Lana, which are established too. I will probably add a lot of relationship tags in the future, because the characters I bring here are mostly all polyamorous, so yeah, even if not all SWTOR characters survived till the storyline timeline, the love those characters shared with them will not be forgotten or treated as something unimportant anymore.

[WP][S][NZ] Cambiare Tempus Futurum: Lapis Philosophorum [1.5/17]

Tak jak mówiłam. Publikacja opóźniła się... ale nie przez betę tylko przeze mnie, bo zaczęłam dodawać rozdziały także na A03, a tam nie musiałam się męczyć z koszmarnym HTML'em, który na blogerze wykrzacza wszystko i zwykle dodawanie rozdziału zajmuje mi tutaj tak ze trzy godziny. Przepraszam :(

ROZDZIAŁ I

CZĘŚĆ V

DOBRE ZŁEGO POCZĄTKI

— Wyglądało na to, że profesor McGonagall poruszyła wreszcie temat, o którym bardzo chciała podyskutować, a był to prawdziwy powód, dla którego czekała na niego na zimnym, twardym murze przez cały dzień. W każdym razie do tej chwili ani jako kot, ani jako kobieta nie utkwiła w Albusie Dumbledore tak świdrującego spojrzenia jak teraz. Było oczywiste, że cokolwiek mówili „wszyscy”, nie zamierzała w to uwierzyć, póki Dumbledore nie powie jej, że to prawda. Lecz Dumbledore odkleił sobie jeszcze jednego dropsa i milczał.

— A mówią — naciskała profesor McGonagall — że zeszłej nocy Voldemort pojawił się w Dolinie Godrika. Chciał odnaleźć Potterów. Krążą pogłoski, że Lily i James Potter... że oni... nie żyją.

Powietrze momentalnie stało się chłodne niczym polarna bryza, obniżając temperaturę w pomieszczeniu o kilka stopni. Lily, nawet nie wiedząc kiedy, wstrzymała oddech, który teraz z drżeniem wypuściła. Severus z konsternacją odnotował, że bardzo starała się powstrzymać wzbierające łzy.

— A więc to prawda... — Przytłumiony głos Lily zabrzmiał w otaczającej ich ciszy nienaturalnie głośno. — U-umarliśmy... znaczy... umrzemy — poprawiła się, zanim pierwsze łzy spłynęły po jej twarzy. To było dla niej zbyt wiele.

Dotąd skamieniały James słysząc szloch, natychmiast wstał i przesiadł się na miejsce obok żony, by ją przytulić i pocieszyć.

— Liluś, skarbie. Nie wszystko jeszcze stracone. To się jeszcze nie wydarzyło — mruczał do niej uspokajającym głosem, jednak bez skutku. Lily nadal cicho płakała.

Syriusz i Remus po chwili także wstali i usiedli blisko przyjaciółki, mając nadzieję, że we trzech uda im się ją jakoś uspokoić. Jednak kiedy płacz nie ustawał, wszyscy spojrzeli z nadzieją na Dumbledore'a, a ten z kolei na Severusa, który zacisnął dłoń w bezsilnej złości na samego siebie. Czy naprawdę był aż tak bezużyteczny? Osoba, na której tak bardzo mu zależało, cierpiała, a on.. nic nie mógł na to poradzić. Dlaczego więc dyrektor patrzył akurat na niego? Wiedział przecież, chyba lepiej niż ktokolwiek inny, jak bardzo był beznadziejny w pocieszaniu. To, że komuś współczuł, jeszcze nie oznaczało, że potrafił mu pomóc!

Jakby w odpowiedzi na tę myśl, nagle uświadomił sobie, że mimo wszystko jest coś, co mógłby zrobić. Podekscytowany tym odkryciem wstał, by przeszukać kieszenie, a kiedy znalazł wreszcie to, czego szukał, podszedł do zapłakanej Lily i zmusił ją do przełknięcia lepkiego płynu.

— Eliksir Uspokajający — wyjaśnił, czując na sobie nieprzychylny wzrok Blacka i Pottera. — Nic więcej nie mogę dla niej zrobić.

Po tej deklaracji natychmiast wrócił na swoje miejsce, z daleka obserwując, jak Lily powoli się uspokaja. Wszyscy trzej Huncwoci nie zamierzali jednak tak od razu zostawić jej samej sobie i odsunęli się dopiero, gdy upewnili się, że wszystko jest już w porządku. Najbardziej z powrotem na miejsce ociągał się James, widocznie nadal zmartwiony. Lily zwykle nie reagowała w taki sposób, dlatego też nie było nic dziwnego w tym, iż czuł się, delikatnie rzecz ujmując, zaniepokojony.

— Dziękuję... — odparła Lily, po czym uśmiechnęła się delikatnie, wycierając policzki ofiarowaną przez Remusa chusteczką. — Przepraszam za to. Sama nie wiem, dlaczego tak zareagowałam.

— Och, ależ nic się nie stało — odparł łagodnie Albus. — Jestem pewien, że nie tylko panią to wstrząsnęło. Ja sam czuję się co najmniej zmartwiony tą sytuacją, więc proszę się tym nie przejmować.

— Dobrze... — Kiwnęła głową, po czym spojrzała na niego niepewnie. — Myśli pan, dyrektorze, że można temu zapobiec?

Dumbledore zmierzył ją uważnym spojrzeniem, podczas gdy inni wpatrywali się w niego w niemym oczekiwaniu.

— Myślę, że to bardziej niż możliwe — stwierdził w końcu. — Nie mam żadnych wątpliwości, co do motywów osoby, która przysłała nam tę książkę, a wręcz jestem pewien, iż zrobiła to, ponieważ pragnęła, abyśmy zmienili przyszłość i ocalili tylu, ilu zdołamy.

Ostatnie słowo bardziej niż inne przykuło uwagę Severusa, budząc jego podejrzenia. Czyżby Albus mimo wszystko obawiał się, że nie uda im się zapobiec śmierci Potterów? A może wiedział, że NIE MOŻNA jej zapobiec? Zaniepokojony własnymi przypuszczeniami popatrzył jeszcze raz na poczciwego dyrektora, szukając w jego postawie potwierdzenia, a kiedy go nie znalazł, pomyślał jedynie:

— Albusie, w co ty grasz? — Po czym zacisnął dłonie na kolanach, obiecując sobie, że znajdzie sposób. Zamierzał ocalić Lily bez względu na cenę, nawet jeżeli miałby to przypłacić własnym życiem.

— Dziękuję, dyrektorze — odparła z uśmiechem Lily. — Proszę czytać dalej. Obiecuję, że to już się więcej nie powtórzy.

Dyrektor skinął jedynie głową.

— Dumbledore pokiwał głową. Profesor McGonagall westchnęła głęboko.

— Lily i James... Nie mogę w to uwierzyć... Nie chciałam w to uwierzyć... Och, Albusie...

Dumbledore wyciągnął rękę i poklepał ją po ramieniu.

— Wiem... wiem... — pocieszał ją cicho.

Zarówno Lily jak i James uśmiechnęli się do swojej opiekunki i podziękowali jej kiwnięciem głowy, na co nauczycielka odpowiedziała tym samym, dyskretnie pozbywając się niechcianych łez z kącików oczu.

— To nie wszystko — oznajmiła profesor McGonagall roztrzęsionym głosem. — Mówią, że próbował zabić syna Potterów, Harry’ego. Ale... nie mógł. Nie był w stanie uśmiercić małego chłopczyka! Nikt nie wie dlaczego ani jak, ale mówią, że od tego momentu potęga Voldemorta jakby się załamała... i właśnie dlatego gdzieś zniknął.

— Jak to chciał zabić Harry'ego?! — zszokowany James aż wstał i popatrzył z góry na dyrektora. — Myślałem, że poluje na nas, ponieważ nie zgodziliśmy się do niego przyłączyć! Co on ma do naszego Harry'ego?! — Postąpił krok do przodu.

— Rogaczu! — Remus rzucił się, by go zatrzymać. — James, co ty chcesz zrobić?

— Nie wiem! Za dużo tu niewiadomych! — wrzasnął wściekle James, łypiąc ponad ramieniem Lupina na Dumbledore'a. — Czegoś nam nie mówisz. Powiedziałeś, że musimy się ukryć pod zaklęciem Fideliusa, ale nie powiedziałeś, dlaczego nam pomagasz. Chcę odpowiedzi! — Szamotał się jeszcze przez chwilę z wilkołakiem, lecz kiedy stało się jasne, że nie wygra z jego ponadprzeciętną siłą, poddał się.

— Darowałbyś sobie, Potter! — Tym razem to Severus wstał. — Powinieneś się cieszyć, że w ogóle masz możliwość się gdzieś schronić, zamiast wykrzykiwać głupoty! Ale czego innego mogłem się po tobie spodziewać? — uśmiechnął się złośliwie.

— Jestem wdzięczny! Po prostu coś mi tu nie pasuje... — burknął James, pozwalając, by ich spojrzenia się skrzyżowały. — Tutaj chodzi o życie i przyszłość mojego syna!

— W porządku — skapitulował Albus. — Miałem zamiar powiedzieć wam wszystko, gdy już się ukryjecie, ale biorąc pod uwagę okoliczności, mogę to zrobić wcześniej.

— Nie może pan, dyrektorze! — Snape popatrzył na niego ze zgrozą. Bał się tej chwili. Od bardzo dawna wiedział, że kiedyś nadejdzie, a mimo to, gdy wreszcie tak się stało, nie czuł się ani trochę gotowy na wyznanie swojego grzechu.

— Dyrektorze, czy naszemu synkowi grozi niebezpieczeństwo? — spytała łagodnie Lily, najwyraźniej nadal odczuwając skutki eliksiru uspokajającego. — To jego chce Voldemort?

Severus mimowolnie się wzdrygnął, po czym przeniósł pokonane spojrzenie na Dumbledore'a. Co ma być, to będzie. Zniesie wszystko, byleby już mieć to za sobą. Albus, mimo iż zdawał sobie sprawę z tego, jak wielkie znaczenie miała cała sprawa dla Mistrza Eliksirów, kiwnął głową.

— Tak, Harry jest w niebezpieczeństwie — przyznał ze smutkiem Dumbledore. — Voldemort uważa go za realne zagrożenie, dlatego też za wszelką cenę pragnie się go pozbyć.

— Ale... dlaczego? — spytał głucho James, opadając na fotel. — Harry jest jeszcze mały, ledwie skończył rok. Jak może być zagrożeniem dla kogokolwiek?

— Przepowiednia, która została wygłoszona w mojej obecności mówi, że dziecko urodzone pod koniec lipca z tych, którzy trzykrotnie oparli się Voldemortowi, będzie miało moc zdolną do pokonania go.

— Niemożliwe... — sapnęła Lily. — Nasz malutki, słodki Harry pogromcą największego czarnoksiężnika naszych czasów? To niedorzeczne.

— Niedorzeczne, ale niestety prawdziwe. Przepowiednia została wygłoszona przez potomkinię wielkiej wieszczki Cassandry, dzięki czemu mam pewność, iż jest prawdziwa. Kłopoty zaczęły się jednak w momencie, gdy próbowałem zidentyfikować dziecko z przepowiedni.

— Co się stało? Przepowiednia nie mówiła konkretnie o Harrym? — spytała Lily.

Nadzieja rudowłosej kobiety z miejsca udzieliła się także jej mężowi.

— Nie. Okazało się bowiem, że dwoje dzieci spełniało wymogi przepowiedni.

— A więc nie musi chodzić o Harry'ego? — dopytywał James. — Jest jeszcze jedno dziecko, które może mu zagrozić?

— Było tak do sierpnia tamtego roku — przyznał ze smutkiem Albus. — Do czasu, gdy pewien Śmierciożerca doniósł o przepowiedni Voldemortowi.

Syriusz od razu spojrzał na Severusa, jakby to było oczywiste, kto ich wydał, ale kiedy już miał wstać i policzyć się z tym oślizgłym gadem, został powstrzymany przez Dumbledore'a.

— Nie, nie, Syriuszu. To nie Severus — podkreślił dyrektor, odpowiadając uśmiechem na niedowierzające spojrzenie, które posłał mu ślizgon. — Severus został moim szpiegiem jeszcze przed wygłoszeniem przepowiedni i to on doniósł mi o tym, kogo Voldemort zidentyfikował jako zagrożenie dla siebie — skłamał gładko, czym zaskarbił sobie dozgonną wdzięczność Severusa. Wsparcie ze strony Albusa było właśnie tym, czego potrzebował, by wziąć się w garść.

Snape uspokoił się niemal od razu, dzięki czemu mógł bardziej skupić się na tym, co mówił Black.

— I ja mam niby uwierzyć, że to nie on doniósł o wszystkim? To Ślizgon! Oni wszyscy bez wyjątku mu służą! Sam pan widział, co się działo, gdy jeszcze byliśmy w szkole! Wielu czarodziejów otwarcie deklarowało swoje poparcie dla Voldemorta i jego Śmierciożerców, a Snape był jednym z nich! — Nie odpuszczał Black.

— Tak, BYŁ jednym z nich, jednak kiedy zorientował się, kim tak naprawdę jest Voldemort i do czego dąży, natychmiast przeszedł na naszą stronę. — Dumbledore uniósł dłoń, uciszając tym samym protest Syriusza. — Także na początku byłem sceptyczny, ale gdy Severus powiedział mi, że Voldemort uznał, iż to Harry Potter jest dzieckiem z przepowiedni i zadeklarował się go pozbyć, zanim zacznie stanowić jakiekolwiek zagrożenie, natychmiast zyskał moje pełne zaufanie.

— A więc to dlatego on tutaj jest! — odgadł Syriusz. — Zabrał go pan ze sobą, ponieważ mu pan zaufał i uznał, że nic złego się z tego powodu nie stanie, jednak to tylko pana zdanie! Snape troszczy się tylko o własną skórę, jak każdy Ślizgon! Nie można mu ufać! — krzyczał dalej Syriusz. — Szanuję pana, dyrektorze, ale nie znaczy to, że uwierzę w jego niewinność tylko na podstawie pana opinii!

— Skoro cię to tak bardzo oburza, Black, to wiedz, że złożyłem Wieczystą Przysięgę na dowód swojej lojalności, a także zeznawałem pod wpływem Veritaserum — wciął się Severus, mając już dosyć słuchania jazgotu tego zapchlonego kundla.

— Veritaserum można oszukać... — oponował dalej Łapa, już znacznie mniej entuzjastycznie.

— Ale Wieczystej Przysięgi nie — uzupełnił z satysfakcją Snape.

Wiedział, że na ten argument Black nie znajdzie odpowiedzi, nawet jeżeli posiadłby wiedzę tajemną. W istocie, ku uciesze Severusa, pokonany Syriusz po kilku minutach milczenia klapnął na fotel z niezadowoloną miną. Przegrana z tym małym obślizgłym gnojkiem, jak zwykł go nazywać, musiała mocno zranić jego dumę, gdyż ponownie zamilkł. Syriusz sam przed sobą musiał przyznać, iż tym razem to Snape wygrał bitwę.

— Kim jest ten drugi chłopiec? — zapytała Lily, jakby udając, że wymiana zdań sprzed chwili w ogóle nie nastąpiła.

— To Neville Longbottom.

— Rozumiem... — odparła, kiwając głową, jakby właśnie otrzymała najważniejszy element układanki.

— A ja nie. O co chodzi? — zaciekawił się James.

— Alicja i Frank są świetnymi czarodziejami, ale oboje są czystokrwiści — zaczęła rzeczowym tonem Lily. — Voldemort prędzej posądziłby dziecko półkrwi o to, że chce go zniszczyć, niż jakieś inne, nawet jeżeli Neville już od dnia narodzin wykazywałby się niesamowitą aktywnością magiczną.

— Ciekawa hipoteza — przyznał Dumbledore i na chwilę zamyślił się nad nią. — Chociaż sądzę, że tutaj równie wielką rolę odgrywało nazwisko, lecz to tylko moje skromne zdanie.

— Potterowie nie są w niczym lepsi od Longbottomów — stwierdziła obronnie Lily.

— Oczywiście, że nie, ale Voldemort może mieć nieco inne zdanie na ten temat.

— Pan go rozumie? Rozumie pan jego sposób myślenia? — dziwiła się rudowłosa kobieta.

— Raczej domyślam się, niż naprawdę rozumiem — zaśmiał się serdecznie. — No, skoro już wyjaśniliśmy tę sprawę, to może powrócimy do czytania? Rozdział jeszcze się nie skończył.

Wszyscy zgodnie pokiwali głowami, uznając temat za zakończony. Nikt z nich nie mógł oczywiście wiedzieć, jak wielką ulgę przyniosło to Severusowi.

Z natury Snape był paranoikiem, dlatego też spodziewał się czegoś znacznie gorszego. Zbiorowego linczu chociażby, wydania dementorom, czy nawet okrutniejszych rzeczy. Gdyby mógł, najpewniej sam by siebie w ten sposób ukarał, więc naturalnie nie oczekiwał niczego innego ze strony osób, które miały do tego pełne prawo. A mimo to został zaskoczony. Dumbledore skłamał dla jego dobra, ochronił go, chociaż mógł go zdradzić i właśnie dlatego Severus czuł gdzieś pod skórą, iż niezamierzenie zaciągnął u niego ogromny dług, którego spłacenie zajmie mu co najmniej kilkanaście lat. Jednak w tej chwili, biorąc pod uwagę sytuację, w jakiej się znajdował, nie miało to dla niego większego znaczenia.

— Dumbledore pokiwał ponuro głową.

— A więc to... to prawda? — wyjąkała profesor McGonagall. — Po tym wszystkim, co zrobił... Tylu ludzi pozabijał... i nie mógł zabić małego dziecka? To wprost zdumiewające... Tyle się robiło, żeby go powstrzymać, aż tu nagle... Ale... na miłość boską, jak temu Harry’emu udało się przeżyć?

— Pozostaje nam tylko zgadywać — powiedział Dumbledore. — Może nigdy się nie dowiemy.

Profesor McGonagall wyciągnęła koronkową chusteczkę i zaczęła sobie osuszać oczy pod okularami. Dumbledore wyjął z kieszeni złoty zegarek, przyjrzał mu się i mocno pociągnął nosem. Był to bardzo dziwny zegarek. Miał dwanaście wskazówek, a nie miał w ogóle cyfr; zamiast tego po obwodzie tarczy krążyły maleńkie planety. Dumbledore musiał jednak coś z niego odczytać, bo włożył go z powrotem do kieszeni i rzekł:

— Hagrid się spóźnia. Nawiasem mówiąc, to chyba on ci powiedział, że tutaj będę, tak?

— Tak — przyznała profesor McGonagall. — A możesz mi powiedzieć, dlaczego znalazłeś się akurat tutaj?

— To proste. Chcę zainstalować Harry’ego u jego ciotki i wuja. To jedyna rodzina, jaka mu pozostała.

— Chwila! — wciął się Syriusz. — To nie prawda, że ci mugole są jedyną rodziną Harry'ego! Dlaczego nie mógł go pan oddać pod opiekę moją lub Remusa?

James także pragnąc poznać odpowiedź na to konkretne pytanie, uważnie wpatrzył się w Dumbledore'a.

— Sądzę, że gdyby była taka możliwość, nie rozważałbym nawet umieszczenia Harry'ego w domu państwa Dursleyów — odparł dyplomatycznie Albus.

— Więc co? My także umrzemy? Harry straci wszystkich ludzi, którzy się o niego troszczą z powodu jakiejś głupiej przepowiedni?!

— Tego nie możemy być pewni...

— Dyrektor ma rację, panie Black — poparła przełożonego Minerva. — Mógłby pan wziąć pod uwagę fakt, iż nie skończyliśmy nawet odczytywać pierwszego rozdziału, przez co trudno mówić, iż cokolwiek, co sami wywnioskujemy, mogłoby w istocie okazać się prawdą. Tego, czy jest pan martwy, czy nie, dowiemy się prawdopodobnie dopiero, gdy dojdziemy do końca.

Po tych słowach przeniosła wzrok na dyrektora, chcąc dać mu w ten sposób do zrozumienia, by czytał dalej.

— Ależ, Dumbledore... przecież nie możesz mieć na myśli ludzi, którzy mieszkają tutaj! — zawołała profesor McGonagall, zrywając się na równe nogi i wskazując na numer czwarty. — Dumbledore... przecież to niemożliwe. Obserwowałam ich przez cały dzień. Trudno o dwoje ludzi, którzy tak by się od nas różnili. I mają syna... sama widziałam, jak kopał matkę na ulicy, wrzeszcząc, żeby mu kupiła cukierki. I Harry Potter miałby tutaj zamieszkać?

— Dziękuję, pani profesor.

— Och, nie ma za co — odparła zmieszania kobieta, starając się ukryć niepewność, którą wywołało w niej zachowanie dawnej podopiecznej.

— Ależ jest za co. Cieszę się, że chociaż pani próbowała powstrzymać dyrektora przed umieszczeniem mojego synka w tym domu. Jestem naprawdę wdzięczna. — Lily uśmiechnęła się szczerze do Minervy, na co pani profesor zareagowała sztywnym skinięciem głowy, które miało oznaczać, że przyjęła podziękowanie.

— Tu mu będzie najlepiej — oświadczył stanowczo Dumbledore. — Jego ciotka i wuj będą mogli mu wszystko wytłumaczyć, kiedy trochę podrośnie. Napisałem do nich list.

Gdyby wzrok czarodziejów mógł zabijać, niczym ten należący do bazyliszka, Albus Dumbledore leżałby już martwy na środku salonu, uśmiercony połączoną mocą trzech gorgon: Minervy, Lily i Jamesa. Ich zmrużone groźnie oczy wyrażały mniejszą lub większą wściekłość, w zależności od osoby, od matki dziecka poczynając a na pani profesor skończywszy. Severus nie miał najmniejszych wątpliwości, co do tego, iż żadnemu z nich nie spodobał się pomysł, by wyjawiać dziecku prawdę poprzez list zaadresowany do jego krewnych. Syriusz i Remus zresztą także byli tego niemniej świadomi, w przeciwieństwie do samego Albusa, który nie widząc w tym problemu, patrzył na nich z uprzejmym zdumieniem na twarzy. To z kolei tylko podsyciło gniew Potterów.

— Moja siostra i jej mąż powinni być ostatnimi osobami, którym ktoś tak inteligentny jak pan mógłby powierzyć tak ważne zadanie, jak uświadomienie mojego dziecka, iż jest czarodziejem! — wrzasnęła dziko Lily, zrywając się na równe nogi. — Petunia nienawidzi magii! Tak samo jak jej mąż! Nie dość, że będą musieli go wychowywać, to jeszcze zrobią to w najgorszy możliwy sposób, cały czas poniżając i gardząc nim! — krzyczała dalej, chodząc przed oddzielającym ją od dyrektora niskim stoliczkiem. — Aż nie mogę uwierzyć, że mógłby pan być do tego stopnia nierozważny, by pozostawić uświadomienie mojego syna właśnie w ich gestii! Skoro już chciał pan zawrzeć to wszystko w liście, powinien pan sam mu go doręczyć, aby mieć pewność, że w ogóle dowie się, kim jest, zanim moja siostra wmówi mu nie wiadomo co!

Intensywnie zielone oczy Lily ciskały w tym momencie tak potężnymi gromami w Dumbledore'a, że już od dobrych kilkunastu minut powinien wić się z bólu na wyczarowanym przez siebie miękkim czerwonym fotelu w złote kropki. Powinien, bo jak na złość nic takiego się nie stało, mimo iż powietrze wokół zebranych niemal iskrzyło od magii, jaką uwolniła z siebie kobieta.

— Pani Potter ma rację, Albusie — skwitowała sucho Minerva. — Ci mugole byli i są okropni, a z czasem będą jeszcze gorsi, jeżeli weźmiemy pod uwagę incydenty z przypadkową magią chłopca oraz zdanie państwa Dursley na temat wszystkiego, co nienaturalne — kontynuowała surowym tonem, w ogóle nie przejmując się tym, iż mówi nie dość, że do własnego przełożonego, to jeszcze do jednego z najpotężniejszych czarodziejów tamtych czasów. — Określenie „brak zaufania” byłoby w tym momencie dużym niedopowiedzeniem, dyrektorze. Ci mugole zwyczajnie nie nadają się na odpowiednich opiekunów dla dziecka czarodziejów i śmiem twierdzić, że doskonale o tym wiesz.

— Żeby tylko! — sapnęła nadal wściekła Lily. — Petunia zrobiłaby wszystko, byleby tylko Harry nie dowiedział się, że jest czarodziejem! Znam ją wystarczająco dobrze, by wiedzieć, do czego się posunie, kiedy przyjdzie do niego list z Hogwartu, Dumbledore!

— Jeżeli myślisz, że pozwolę na to, aby mojemu synowi odmawiano wszystkiego w domu, w którym nie doczeka się ani grama miłości, to grubo się mylisz — warknął Rogacz, rozeźlony nie na żarty. — Harry to wesoły dzieciak. Nie pozwolę, aby cokolwiek na świecie zdmuchnęło ten radosny uśmiech z jego twarzy!

Albus tymczasem, nie mając szansy na jakąkolwiek obronę, westchnął jedynie ciężko i postanowił poczekać, aż jego trzej oprawcy, bombardujący go oskarżeniami, wreszcie się uspokoją. Dopiero, kiedy stało się jasne, iż nic już więcej nie zostanie powiedziane, dyrektor odezwał się, miał nadzieję, ugodowym tonem.

— Proszę was, moi drodzy, o nie traktowanie mnie źle z powodu decyzji, których jeszcze nie podjąłem.

— Wystarczy mi samo to, że może pan je podjąć! — fuknęła Lily nadal zła, ale już na tyle spokojna, by powrócić do używania formy „pan” względem Albusa, o czym wcześniej w furii zapomniała, całkowicie skupiając się na wrzeszczeniu.

— Tak, to prawda, ale obdarzcie mnie chociaż odrobiną zaufania. Jestem pewien, że sam doskonale potrafię wyciągnąć wnioski z własnych błędów i bez waszej pomocy. — Ostatnie zdanie podkreślił ostro, tym samym sprawiając, że zarówno Potterowie, jak i Minerva, wzdrygnęli się. Albus potrafił być przerażający, kiedy naprawdę chciał, zauważył Severus, dziwiąc się sile, jaką starszy czarodziej zawarł w swoich słowach. — Zamierzam to zrobić, uważnie analizując własne zachowanie, więc proszę o nieprzeszkadzanie mi.

— Dobrze... — westchnęła zawstydzona Lily, z powrotem zajmując swój fotel.

— List? — powtórzyła profesor McGonagall, siadając z powrotem na murku. — Dumbledore, czy naprawdę sądzisz, że zdołasz im wszystko wyjaśnić w liście? Przecież ci mugole nigdy go nie zrozumieją! Będzie sławny... stanie się legendą... wcale bym się nie zdziwiła, gdyby odtąd ten dzień nazywano Dniem Harry’ego Pottera... będą o nim pisać książki... każde dziecko będzie znało jego imię!

— Święta racja — powiedział Dumbledore, spoglądając na nią z powagą ponad połówkami swoich szkieł. — Dość, by zawróciło w głowie każdemu chłopcu. Słynny, zanim nauczy się chodzić i mówić! Słynny z czegoś, czego nawet nie pamięta! Nie rozumiesz, że będzie lepiej, jak najpierw trochę podrośnie, a dopiero później dowie się o tym wszystkim?

— To i tak nie usprawiedliwia zamykania go z chorymi mugolami... — mruknął do siebie rozeźlony Syriusz. Jemu bowiem także się to nie podobało, ale mimo wszystko starał się brać przykład z Remusa, który niezależnie od swojej wilczej natury, potrafił zachować spokój w nawet najbardziej ekstremalnych warunkach. A skoro on mógł, to Syriusz Black przecież też, prawda?

~***~

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