After stealing the dragons, I started thinking about Slytherin's research. The idea of using reference points and moving backward along the evolutionary ladder was fascinating. No, I wasn't planning to resurrect tyrannosaurs — especially since dragons probably ate them for breakfast.
But if the basilisk is a degraded chthonic creature, then what are dragons? There was no clear answer. In theory, dragons came from another world millions of years ago.
Who they were remains a mystery, but one thing is certain — over the last four thousand years, they've grown weaker, almost degenerating into wyverns. The problem is simple: the stronger the dragon, the stronger its offspring, and the more likely the mother can recover from the cost of growing and incubating the egg.
But nowadays, dragons are killed before they reach their full power. They're destroyed before they gain experience, intelligence, and the chance to pass that on to their descendants.
Naturally, it made sense to start with something simpler. I decided to try growing basilisks first. Not with a toad, but with a coelacanth — a living fossil that's been on Earth for hundreds of millions of years. No sooner said than done: within two days, poachers specializing in rare animals delivered a female coelacanth for a couple thousand galleons. More time was spent searching than catching — with the right charms, it's elementary.
Instead of chicken eggs, I used king cobra eggs, just like Slytherin. Salazar wasn't a fool. He'd realized long ago that the closer you get to the ancestor, the stronger the basilisk. He just didn't have evolutionary theory or centuries of research by ordinary people. Wizards have always kept such knowledge secret — if a Muggle finds dragon bones, a squad of Obliviators shows up, erases their memory, and the find goes straight to the Department of Mysteries.
Of course, I had to make sure both the fish and the egg were comfortable, but charms solve most problems. As long as the egg was in water, it was fine. I cast a whole suite of chimerology charms from Salazar's notes and waited — just a few minutes in accelerated time. The fish was automatically fed and kept alive by magic. Otherwise, how would a toad sit on an egg for weeks?
Right before my eyes, the tiny egg swelled in size. Soon, from it hatched… an amphibian I'd never seen before.
"Seems like overkill," Hal commented. "If I'm not mistaken, that's a Qinglongtriton — a Jurassic amphibian."
"Hm, you're probably right. We'll do the next egg with constant scanning," I replied.
The next egg mutated under the constant charms, producing a non-viable monster that nearly devoured the coelacanth. But we figured out exactly when the basilisk turns into something else. After a few more tries, we finally got our first basilisk. Then the second, third, fourth, and fifth. Only when the process was perfected did we move on to Salazar's basilisk.
Slytherin had tried to strengthen existing soul and blood, but that wasn't quite what I wanted. It's like making a very strong monkey instead of a human. So, for the sixth egg, I was extremely careful. At first, the charms wouldn't even take — the snake embryo resisted so strongly. But after pouring in a ton of energy, I managed it.
This time, I had to wait longer. The coelacanth withered, as if its life force was being drained. But we managed to bring the basilisk a little closer to its ancestor — any further would have been dangerous. Getting a super-toad instead of the king of serpents would have been a letdown.
Now I had six basilisks. Who should I give them to?
At that moment, someone knocked on the door.
"Yes, yes, come in," I called, examining the largest egg — not the king of serpents, but the king of basilisks. It pulsed, absorbing mana from the air, so it sat on a special circle that fed it magic directly from Hal.
"Am I interrupting?" Bella asked, freezing when she saw the egg. The basilisk inside seemed to sense her and pulsed even stronger.
"No, you're just in time. Come closer." She did, and with true sight, I saw tendrils of connection stretching toward Black. "Hmm. Amazing."
"What is this? It's like it's calling me," Bella said, surprised. For some reason, I remembered that white kitten and the heart-wrenching feelings it had stirred in her. She was feeling something similar now, drawn to the unknown creature in the egg.
"Congratulations — you've found yourself a familiar. Or it found you. That's rare, you know. The same thing happened to me," I recalled how Dorothea had flown to me and refused to leave. Though this creature was more powerful, so the reaction was even stronger.
"How? But who?" Bella was clearly confused.
"Does it matter?" I smirked. Black shook her head.
"Just curious."
"A basilisk. And not just any basilisk — a true king or queen. You won't be able to incubate it yourself… or rather, it would drain you dry, so it'll have to stay in Availon. But if you want, I can perform the Sumerian familiar ritual for you right now," I offered, catching her off guard.
"Why not the ordinary one?" She was… touched, I could tell.
"The ordinary one is pointless in your case. You already have a connection — that's what makes a true familiar rare. When a mage and a magical creature are so well-matched, they'll be bonded even without a ritual, if they both want it."
"What does the basilisk want?" she asked, still confused.
"Ask it. It should work intuitively." Honestly, I hadn't planned to give this basilisk to Bella… but I realized it wouldn't accept anyone else now. "Just like with a mental connection."
"It… seems to agree," Bella said after a couple of minutes. She was confused, but also happy.
"Then I see no problem," I said, handing her the egg. "Let's go to the ritual hall."
The binding went smoothly, since both — familiar and mage — wanted it. But the egg had to be left near Availon's heart, since it was drawing too much mana from Bella.
"How can I repay you for this?" Bella asked, pale after the binding. I knew from experience how painful it was — you give a piece of your soul to the familiar, and receive a piece of theirs in return. That's why you can easily get sent to Azkaban for several lifetimes for this ritual. In my opinion, that's hypocritical — wizards sentence people to the Dementor's Kiss, which is even worse than death: centuries of being digested in a demon's stomach.
"In what sense? The egg wasn't mine — it belonged to Salazar Slytherin. And the fact that I managed a successful experiment… it didn't cost me much, since I made five more basilisks before this one," I waved it off, resigned to losing such a powerful creature. Better this than an uncontrollable monster, angry at you for your greed. "Besides, the stronger my vassal, the stronger I am. In any case, you won't be able to walk around with it for a while — during its growth period, it'll consume more magic than it produces."
"Salazar Slytherin? The Salazar Slytherin?" Of course, pureblood English wizards have a special attitude toward him. For me, he's a powerful mage, a respected scientist, but not an idol or a role model. Was he really such a pureblood fanatic? I had no answer. His lab journals mention experiments on people and wizards, but no names. More often, he healed than harmed.
"Exactly. So value your familiar," I told her. "By the way, what did you come for?"
"To report that the bastard is ranting and raving, using legilimency on all the Death Eaters, and if anyone resists, he rewards them with the Cruciatus Curse. He's already executed several for thoughts of betrayal," she said, her contempt for Gaunt obvious.
"At this rate, the Knights of Walpurgis will finish him off themselves. You won't have to do anything. What about you?"
"As for me, he's sure I'm his loyal little dog," she smirked, crossing her legs. "But your actions have stirred up a hornet's nest. The Auror Office or the Lord might get to the truth."
"I don't deny it, but it won't happen right away. They can't catch me by hot trails anymore, and by the time they try, the cold ones will be gone too. I haven't said or done anything to show I dislike the Dark Lord, and I haven't acted against him, directly or indirectly. Most importantly — I'm a schoolboy. And older people tend to see people my age as…" I snapped my fingers.
"Dim-witted?" she suggested, gratefully accepting a soul potion from Florentina.
"No, there are young geniuses… but more often, we're seen as inexperienced, easy to manipulate. They're unlikely to imagine a young guy as a player — more likely, they'll think someone is behind me."
"Oh, what are you doing here?" asked — naked Pandora, coming out of the shower on the second floor.
"Playing with basilisks," I replied. "Maybe you'll get dressed?"
"Why? Everyone here is family, right?" Grey had this quirk — if everyone's family, anything goes.
"And it doesn't embarrass you that I'm a man?"
"Should it?" she asked, completely innocent. With her, a body-changing ritual would be a disaster — all of Hogwarts would know in a day. Not because she'd tell — she was surprisingly good at keeping secrets, and the oath would stop her — but because she never used cosmetic charms. At all.
"Oh, child of a wondrous people, what am I to do with you?" I asked, half-joking.
"Understand and love?"
"Arthur already has someone to love," Bella smirked. Despite their different personalities, they got along well.
"Did someone mention me?" Dorothea teleported into my arms.
"Madhouse," I rolled my eyes. But it's my madhouse, and I like it.
After Pandora heard about Bella's familiar, she wore me down, begging for one too.
"Teacher, I want a familiar too!" she pouted. I nearly ruined a dragon egg that needed close attention. I'd already ruined two — basilisk charms weren't quite right for dragons. And I'd used toads, not coelacanths — dragons turned out not to be so ancient, or their ancestor wasn't.
"There's a whole bunch of dragon eggs here, five basilisks, and a whole forest of animals! The doppelgangers probably cleaned out half the Forbidden Forest. Want a unicorn or thestral — take one!" I snapped.
"They don't suit me. I want a special one! Something no one else has!"
"Oh," I sighed. "And what do you want?"
"I want a unicorn," she ticked off on her finger, "with wings, that breathes fire! And can teleport!"
"You've been reading my fantasy books again?" I asked, seeing her grinning and nodding. "Fine. Ask Hal for Slytherin's journals and chimerology textbooks. You can look at my notes on matrix fusion and using condensed blood as an anchor. When you bring me a ready project and Hal approves it, I'll think about it. Deal?"
"Yes! Thank you, teacher!" She kissed my cheek and ran off.
"It's not nice to dump your student's problems on your faithful servant," Hal reproached me.
"It's not a problem — it's just childhood. If she loses interest, she'll just take a little dragon," I replied, returning to my experiments. On the third try, after fixing my mistakes, I managed to strengthen the little dragon. The egg immediately started consuming mana like crazy.
It became clear why dragons are declining — with such mana consumption, especially fire element, it would drain and kill a young dragoness. I put the egg in stasis and moved on. Only after five eggs and final tweaks did I create doppelgangers to strengthen all the little dragons. This would make them not only stronger, but — according to Hal and my calculations — smarter. That meant it would be easier to raise them to intelligence, without waiting decades.
Still, I planned to hatch my family's familiars first. They'd be stronger, smarter, and could help educate the next generation of dragons.
On Wednesday, September 12th, Lupin finally approached me.
***
Remus watched Severus leave, feeling a twinge of envy as he saw him chatting with a girl two years older. Rumor had it this Hufflepuff, with her voluptuous figure, was rather free with her affections — especially if you brought her gifts. Judging by Snape's red face, she wasn't offering to play Exploding Snap.
But Remus quickly turned his attention to another boy — Arthur Marlow, who was talking with a white-haired girl and a similar-looking boy at the Ravenclaw table. Mealtime was one of the few times you could reliably find him. The rest of the time, he either attended classes at random or vanished altogether.
"Snivellus has gotten completely brazen, hasn't he?" Sirius nudged Remus in the ribs.
"What?" Lupin asked, distracted. His mind was already elsewhere. "Oh, yeah. Totally brazen."
"You're not yourself at all. The full moon isn't soon, though," Sirius whispered.
"It's just the start of the year. I can't get into the groove," Remus replied. He hadn't told his friends about Marlow's offer.
"Ah, it happens. Did you hear our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher quit? Paid the penalty and ran off, happy as if he'd won the lottery! Seamus from sixth year told me."
"Really?" Lupin perked up. "Didn't even last two weeks! Maybe the position really is cursed?"
"Who knows," Potter said, sitting next to Sirius. "Maybe cursed, maybe not — but no one's lasted more than a year. I wonder who the next teacher will be? It'd be nice if it was a girl with big…"
"Blue eyes?" Black laughed.
"Exactly," James grinned, giving a thumbs up.
At the staff table, Albus Dumbledore was thinking about the new teacher who was supposed to arrive today. When the last instructor quit, Albus hadn't worried — he was used to it by now. Sure, finding a replacement was a headache, but usually the board of trustees handled it.
But this candidate was, to put it mildly, controversial. No point beating around the bush — they'd foisted Bellatrix Black on him! According to his sources, she was close to his former student, Tom Riddle. He could have refused, but why? Albus wouldn't be himself if he didn't find an advantage in every situation.
Nothing happened at Hogwarts without his knowledge, so he could easily keep an eye on young Black. Maybe he could catch her at something — or even recruit her.
Suddenly, the sound of heels on stone distracted him. The whole Great Hall fell silent, watching the stunning brunette in a dark dress with a corset and décolletage that made not only men, but some women, stare.
She walked to the staff table, bowed to Albus, and sat next to Flitwick, who tried not to stare at her legs. Her outfit was right on the edge of school propriety — but just on the edge. She was clearly pleased with the effect, especially on her little brother Sirius, who was practically gasping for air.
"Sister?" he blurted out, his voice echoing in the silence.
"Ahem, I'm pleased to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Bellatrix Black…" the headmaster announced.
In the buzz that followed, it was almost impossible to hear Albus's speech about love, universal good, and how glad he was to see her. Remus nearly missed Arthur slipping out of the Great Hall with his fairy.
"Excuse me, can we talk?" Remus called, catching up to Marlow on the stairs.
"We're already talking," Arthur smiled. "So, you've decided to accept my offer?"
"Yes, but I'd like to know why you want to help me — and what you'll require in return?" Lupin asked, following Marlow toward his room.
"Good questions. Agreeing to unknown terms would be stupid," the blond nodded, stroking his fairy, who was gnawing a gummy candy on his shoulder. "But don't flatter yourself — I want to help all werewolves who want help. As for what I'll ask — there's nothing to take from you, so you'll just sign a non-disclosure contract. That's standard."
"What if I get hurt?" Remus asked.
"Then I'll pay for your treatment or heal you myself. That'll be in the contract. You should realize that if a Hogwarts student gets hurt, no one's going to pat me on the head," Arthur said. Lupin relaxed a little. The contract protected both of them.
Inside, Remus felt a pang of envy. He lived with three other students — even though they were friends, Sirius scattered his socks everywhere, and Peter snored at night. Sure, he cast silencing charms, but they didn't last all night. Here was a whole apartment, with its own bathroom, bedroom, study, and living room.
Arthur quickly drew up a new contract — he'd gotten good at it lately, and helping Minerva with paperwork had given him practice.
"Read and sign if you're satisfied," Arthur said. There was nothing special in the contract — just what they'd agreed. Arthur didn't even promise to cure Lupin, only to try. If it didn't work, he wasn't going to devote his whole life to it.
Remus found nothing objectionable and signed with a blood quill. Arthur did the same. "Well then. I'll take all the necessary data from you now, and you won't need me until tomorrow. Come after lunch."
"Alright." Remus patiently endured blood sampling, hair, saliva, several charms, and stood in a ritual circle. Nothing unpleasant, just monotonous. Fortunately, there was a History lesson he could skip.
Afterward, Lupin left, and Marlow was left with new data to add to what he already knew — he'd been studying werewolves for more than a day.
***
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