Склероша. Granger

Granger, at least it's not a koala.

Автор Склероша.

The preface.

1. Popadanka is not a hundred or two hundred years old. She doesn't care about anything or everyone, she is guided by different criteria than we are used to. The main character is still a "nyashka", for her there are no good or bad ones - there are necessary and unnecessary ones, even if she herself says otherwise.

2. The fik will describe explicit scenes in accordance with the warnings. You don't have to write to the author to change Jen to Femslash. The FIC is not about relationships or PWP, but about the adventures of MC. But if the author wants to, there will be descriptions.

3. Rating. Before reading the fic, take a close look at it. The author has the right to write anything in the feature, and this is allowed by the rules of the site. If you're already starting to read, then you shouldn't say it's wrong.

4. The author also reserves the right not to describe any scenes in extreme detail - this point is for those who, on the contrary, find the fic too "soft" and not particularly bloody.

Rating is not only about bloodcurdling... or crazy PWP, but also a lot more.

5. Claims about magic reserves and channels) So - how did the magic work in the canon? What did it depend on? There are vague explanations there - a potentially strong or weak magician. How was it measured? What does it depend on? In short, since there are no clear explanations in the canon, but there is a difference in forces, then the reserve is logical, and the channels are also logical.

6. Manor (English manor) - a feudal estate in medieval England and Scotland.

There will be an error if it says menor, or something else, but not when it says manor.

7. The surname is Koshchev and is written as Koshchev, not Koshcheev.

8. MC is not a spy with thousands of years of experience. Not a scout. Not a schemer. She is a battle mage, necromancer, chimerologist, and many others. But she's not a spy, a scout, or a schemer. I hope to reduce the number of unnecessary questions this way. We've already got demands/complaints/comments that MC behave like a gopher with constipation. She's a scumbag with no morals. If she needs to, she'll feel sorry for the rabbit, and in half an hour she'll eat it. In short, nyashka is a real scumbag, in every sense of the word.

9. This is not a canon. Generally. This is a fiction based on the world of Ro, but Britain is a drop on the world map. The canon will partially go sideways, so who needs it is not here for you.

10. I have a magical reserve. There is a magical exhaustion. There are firearms, and magicians die from them no worse than ordinary human. Mages are ИМБЫ, but they're not Sidhe or Gods that you have to go after with a sword-кладенцом, a pistol shot is enough. If there are no shields.

11. I was bothered by questions and complaints about the number of magicians, so this explanation came out. Sorry if it offends someone or causes an intolerant arson of the fifth point, but that's your problem, since you can't count.

So let's get started.

There are few magicians - no more than a thousand or two thousand families. Do you even realize how small that is? Okay, Ro has problems with math, as she herself has admitted more than once, but what do you think?

With such a large number of magicians and regular wars, they would have died out five hundred years ago. Add closely related marriages out of desperation, and... what's the story of GP? He couldn't have been born. There would be no one to give birth to. There aren't many Muggleborns to significantly affect the size of the magical community. During the canon, there were at least a dozen of them at Hogwarts, since the bulk of Voldemort's opponents are purebloods or half-bloods. The only Muggle-borns there were two Creevys, Granger and Finch-Fletchley, and even then, according to Ro herself (and she is the creator of this world, and her word is law, no matter how much you would like it otherwise), all mugglebloods are descendants of magicians. Plus, there are a lot of schools besides Hog, and not all of them send their children to school.

So, there are not a thousand, two or a hundred thousand magicians, there are many times more of them. Maybe not a million in Britain, but there are at least three hundred thousand. And I'm only taking magicians. Not goblins, vampires, dryads, centaurs, and others-I'm counting the number of magicians.

The castle was built as a school or converted into a school, and the Founders were far from idiots. So stop yelling about the small number of magicians the world. Those who want to show epicness in an area of five hundred meters by five hundred meters, so they create such a piece with a thousand or two thousand magicians. I don't want. I have a huge world and a huge territory, there's everything from the canon, but there's a lot more besides it. If you don't like this, don't read it. It's easier for you, and it's good for me. :)

It is quite natural that magicians have multiplied over a thousand years, and not to insane numbers, but there are a dozen or two million magicians and squibs on the planet. That's not enough... Against the background of seven to eight billion Muggles, but at the same time it allows you to show a completely normal shadow world of the planet. If you don't like this, don't read it, there is a canon by Ro, with her clarifications that she herself doesn't know how many children she has studied at Hogue. Maybe six hundred, maybe a thousand... So much for Ro. It's different for me.

12. Guys, I'm aware that from the point of view of canonophiles, fiction faintly resembles fanfiction in the world of Ro, but constantly write about what it's worth to write an origin and post it on websites with payment... If you really like it, then no one bothers to pay for it anyway, and not write the same thing in different forms every five chapters. Isn't that logical? And if you don't like it, and you're writing to get me out of here, then just don't read it)) It will be easier for you and me. :)

If you have read all of the above and still began to read... Then all claims related to the above will be sent to an address known to all. The warnings are written, and once you start reading them, you know what you won't find.

Chapter 1

My eyes flew open, and I stared into the darkness, dumbfounded, trying to figure out what had happened. My last memory is of the Imperial legions storming the Mage Tower, where I, among others, was among the defenders.

Groaning, I rolled over on my side and wondered what was going on and where I was. Judging by the memories of the body I found myself in, I am a student of some school of magic and witchcraft called Hogwarts. It wasn't my first rebirth where I kept my memory, so I remembered something about this school from that first life. The only problem was that I only vaguely remembered the course until the third. Now it was the fourth, and all I remembered from it was that there was some kind of Tournament.

The memory of the girl I found myself in clearly suggested that the Tournament was not some kind, but very famous and extremely dangerous for children. And at the end of this Tournament, there will be something extremely dangerous, and, it seems, someone will die....

Rubbing my temples hard, I grunted into the darkness of the bedroom and thought: my first conscious life was ordinary. I had a little passion for sports, I was an orphan with living parents, when my dad didn't know what I was at all, and my mom refused me. The second life immediately showed how dangerous the hope of "pink ponies" is. The elf. I was reborn as a fucking elf, and at the age of two hundred and three, I was enslaved by a Blood mage. For three hundred years, fucking three hundred years, I "learned Zen" in a slave collar, until finally I was able to free myself from it and rip out the throat of my former master.

The third, fourth, and fifth rebirths were, in general, forgettable, and the worlds where I was reborn were not very developed: neither magically nor technologically. But still, I was able to acquire some knowledge there, although all this knowledge did not always work in the following rebirths. All realities/worlds are different, somewhere there is too little or, conversely, too much magic, so it could not work as well as one might hope. Or there were a lot of fanatical churchmen and I had to stupidly keep silent and hide that I was a magician. Yes, I was a girl in all my rebirths. Apparently, I sinned somewhere in my first life.

The sixth rebirth surprised me - I was born a guy. I was jumping up and down with happiness that I was still alive.... And then the guys in power armor flew in, and I was stunned by the realization of where I was. Joy died in convulsions. And when I realized that it wasn't the soldiers of the Imperium who had arrived, but even their opponents.... In general, my most unforgettable rebirth was. In the glorious ranks of the Legions of Chaos...

Then there was the seventh rebirth, and apparently Tzeentch and Slaanesh decided to keep bullying me-a girl again. In a world called Melin. I joined, or rather, I was picked up by the magicians of the Purple Order. Kutul. Great potential, years of study, tons of scrolls and manuscripts read, many hours spent creating or researching some kind of creature... And an attack from the Imperial Legions in the back.

That day, I was among a small delegation sent to the Yellow Order, and as a result, I stayed there. The Yellows, like Kutul, practiced necromancy and blood magic, so such delegations were familiar. It turned out to be unusual that those whom we were supposed to protect rushed at us in the end.... Besides the legionnaires, there were thousands of ordinary citizens and the scum from the bottom of the city.

I still remember how the rebellious bastards screamed as they were torn apart by the creations of the Yellow Ones, I remember how the magicians released spells from the arsenals of Blood magic, and the assaults were drowned in the blood of the attackers. But we didn't get any help, and our forces weren't infinite: sooner or later, the magic reserve came to an end, and the stormers broke in.

In that world, there was an idiotic belief that if a witch was abused, her powers would disappear. I listened to the screams of the girls from the new set of the Tower, who were ten or twelve years old. I watched from the height of the inner Tower as my friend from the Purple Order was laid out on the stones and a whole queue of bastards, inflamed with blood and fear, lined up to her. I watched as the masters in monochrome cloaks fell on the blood-soaked stones. The lasso, built on a voluntary sacrifice, demolished all the living who remained within the arrow's flight from and inside the Tower. After that, all the dead got up and went to take revenge on the last of the Kutul in the Black City.

I didn't care anymore, I was waiting for oblivion, since I sacrificed my life absolutely voluntarily, and I was unlikely to be reborn again. Well, I guess I misunderstood the mechanism of rebirth.

Hermione. Perfect memory, good magic reserve, minimum friends... In general, everything is fine, but, on the other hand, not so much. She doesn't have many friends, but they know her well, even very well. I won't be able to be the same as her: running around with them and getting into some kind of adventure for some unknown reason, constantly helping and prompting, enduring arrogance from Weasley, who is kind of like a friend, but some kind of strange friend. If it hadn't been for the idiotic "adventure" in the first year with a fucking troll, they probably would have been running together. The girl's desire for friends to appear in her life and Ron's embarrassment that he was still to blame, albeit indirectly, immediately played a role. I don't really need friends. No, if they do, I'll be glad, but certainly not two idiots who don't want to learn Magic. Especially since it's a school. Puberty will come soon, and the friendship will end: they will remember that I am not a friend, but even a girlfriend... Fuck it.

So, of course, for so many lives as a girl/woman, I've already gotten used to being just a girl, but - that's exactly what. Even three children in different worlds have not changed my attitude - it is more comfortable for me to build relationships with girls. So if there's a problem with that, it'll even be better for me, I'll go to ordinary non-gifted people and live there. Or I'll go somewhere else, even to America, where it's kind of easier. Damn, I don't remember anything, but Hermione doesn't have any information on this topic in her head. Maybe I'm panicking too early, maybe it's easier here.

On the other hand, there are a lot of half-wits with a mania for the idea that purebloods are stronger than children from ordinary families. It seems like it should have been, but I haven't noticed it yet, judging by Hermione's memories. It was the same in Melin, in general, and in other worlds as well: the older the family, the stronger the offspring were born. Then there were training sessions, and by the time they reached adulthood, it was already clear how big the difference was. This did not mean that ordinary children could not advance to the third rank or higher, not at all. It was just that potential played an extremely important role in obtaining strong magicians for the Orders. If you had to train for ten years to get the coveted monochrome cloak, and someone was twenty or thirty, then you began to appreciate the origin. Although there were exceptions, they only emphasized the rule - sometimes new magicians from ordinary families had more potential than some hereditary ones.

There was also some bullshit with the origin: there was a feeling that all it was good for was to measure the length of the family tree and speak pathetically about Muggleborns.

"The wrong world and the wrong magicians, damn them, shell-shocked idiots..." I muttered softly to myself, thinking wistfully that it would be better if I were back in a world of Eternal War.

Suddenly, I froze, realizing that I was being dumb, like the last hysterical woman who got in for the first time and sincerely hoped that she would wake up now. A soft sob from the sharp pain in my eyes, a short spasm of my body, not adapted to such use of magic, and I finally saw my body in auric vision.

Channels, in fact, are not developed, perfect memory is also due to innate abilities, and not training with Mentalism or, as it is called here, Occlumency. The supply of mana is generally good, but it could have been better, since it is clear that Hermione did not train him properly. But the potential is not bad, oh not bad. The only thing that is unclear is why magicians in this world only do magic with hubs. No, it happened in other worlds too, but there they mostly tried to learn how to use only the body and mind, and the concentrators were left for combat or something like artefactorics, necromancy or medicine, and even then not all actions were performed with them. The mentors strictly demanded to learn how to create weaves mentally or even switch to direct control of the Elements, if there were predispositions. Here, children were persistently forced to get used to the wand from the very beginning, and then adults began to retrain to wandless spells. Yes, even the non-verbal method of weaving was taught here in senior courses.

Scratching my head thoughtfully, I silently tried to create the simplest weave... and realized that I didn't understand something. No, the weave, the ball of light, I created easily. The same Lumos, only Melin. But the regeneration of magic was extremely difficult, and I am at the Source, which, according to official information, is the largest on the islands. Auric vision made it possible to clearly see how hard the reserve was replenished. And there was, in fact, only one answer to that question-there was too little magic in this world.

Having created Lumos according to local traditions, I grimaced and nodded my head - I guessed right. This spell used less magic, as it was "native" to this world and was based on a mixture of simple ritualism and Word magic. Although the Will of the Magician certainly played a role. But magicians used to be stronger, and magic was more powerful: Hermione had hundreds of examples in her memory, and the History of Magic spoke clearly about this. How's that? Maybe all these incomprehensible local magical holidays have some practical significance? Otherwise, the answer was something else. Thoughtfully looking out from behind the canopy and making sure that my neighbors were asleep, I quickly ducked into the girl's trunk (now mine) and found astronomy textbooks and a couple of sheets of parchment there. Climbing back in, I began calculations, deducing curves of dependence... I threw the heating and Lumos charms automatically, without thinking, which indicated a good fusion of my Personality and the child's memory, so all I had to do was work out, or rather, get used to muscle memory, and everything would be fine. The only problem was with the wand: it's still an individual hub, not a universal one, although it's close to that. Well, we'll have to wait until the holidays and change it to a new one, since the tool should be completely convenient, without any difficulties.

After a couple of hours, I straightened up and was able to state that all these Samhaines and others played their role. Of course, there was a lot I didn't know yet, but even a little bit of magic, attracted to the world from beyond the Edge, was not superfluous. Why the magicians refused to do this, I did not understand. Moreover, the more magicians participated in one ritual, the more and longer the door to Interreality was open. It wouldn't be enough to escape along the Trails, of course, but to draw a little wild magic into the world - behind the eyes. Well, before the pile, I was able to state that this world is one of the limited closed ones. Too far from the Paths of Interreality, too weak magically, too stupid magicians, at least English...

And McGonagall is still a bad woman. While I was doing the calculations, I was able to remember how Granger's body came to be in the first place. She found the ritual in an old book and performed it, because when she started doing Occlumency, she discovered blocked areas of memory and decided to deal with it. Figured it out...

The first time, the Dean of Vultures erased her memory for remembering that the seventh Weasley wasn't really under control when she set off her snake. Or rather, for the conclusions and doubts, because the smart girl was surprised that only Harry's "enemies" or those who were quite close to him, like her, a Muggle-born, suffered. Moreover, she had the stupidity, well, what else to call it, to demand to accept an application to the Auror. The Weasleys. They accepted and slapped Obliviate.

The second Oblivion was on her parents and, again, on her, when her parents started asking questions at home why she hadn't written to them for so long. The result was an application for a school change and a new Obliviate. Of course, it's understandable why McGonagall did what she did, but understanding and forgiving are two different things. The girl remembered everything during the ritual, returned to the bedroom, and eventually I woke up in her body at night. Well, Hermy, wherever you are, girl, you can rest assured that the dean will receive an Obliviate from me eventually. But she'll have to wear diapers after that, because I love her from the bottom of my heart.

Rolling up the parchment, I stuffed all the accessories into the chest and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling, automatically starting to disperse mana through the channels of the body. It hurts, of course, but those who don't want to go to the top work in the Ministry. Personally, I don't want to go there to work, only if I look into the Department of Mysteries. In about ten years.

Necromancy, Chimerology, Mentalism, Malefiction, Demonology, Soul Magic, and schools of Chaos, Darkness, and Life are things I know pretty well, but if I start using them, they'll try to send me to Azkaban or bind me with Vows. If my spell works at all. And what should I do? Sit on your ass straight and learn the local magic: it's not time to show off yet. Psionics... Until I develop Mentalism, I definitely won't overload my mind with such techniques. Hermione and I may not be the kind of world where you can jump from happiness to rebirth, but it's still better than just dying. Moreover, someone needs me to get into this particular body. To whom exactly is, of course, a question, but, I think, not too abstruse. To show off and slit your throat in order to be reborn into another world... They'll be reborn as a lemur, and I'll learn another zen.

***

It was a sad morning, because I didn't get a damn good night's sleep and I was scaring people with my friendly grin. Thoughtfully rummaging in the bedside table, I was forced to admit that I did not know where Hermione's comb was, and her memory was also silent, like a true communist being interrogated by the Gestapo. After calculating the pros and cons, I eventually caught the blonde neighbor and politely, ignoring her resistance, asked about some female spells, since it would be slightly idiotic to demonstrate those that I knew.

Brown, as memory suggested, looked at me dumbfounded, and in the end, in ten minutes, she demonstrated the secret magic of the female part of the magical community. Spells/charms for every taste and color that can come to mind - I was getting more and more fucked up by this world and its direction in the development of magical art. No, any witch in any world would give someone's kidney for a collection of these secrets, but it was still amazing.

Ignoring the fact that I would be late for breakfast, I quickly began to rewrite spells and how to apply them in my notebook, which Hermione used as a vest for tears. By the way, after carefully studying what was written there earlier, I got another reason to shit on the younger Weasley. In the second or third year, the seventh was very bad for Hermione, in terms of destroying her reputation. I don't know where she saw the matrimonial plans for "her" Sister-in-law, but there were whispers going on behind Hermione's back. And if the girl herself couldn't understand and didn't even pay attention to it in general, then the paranoid-crazy me who got into her body and received her memory immediately put two plus two and was able to isolate from the memory of the one who tried it.

And her brothers also helped in terms of building bridges with their family. I saw it perfectly from the memory of a child - how the first year vultures regularly went to the medical wing in the first months, as soon as someone tried to get into the Potter-Weasley duo, well, and then into "our" Trio. Of course, I understand that they should have remained friends with the kid and no one else, but from this position, Harry's life became even more disgusting. The Dursleys, of course, didn't beat him or bully him much, but there was no sign of love or care there either, judging by his rare stories. Arriving in the world of magic, the kid found himself in an information vacuum that no one could break through. Ron just didn't care - he was an idiot - he was an idiot in the Abyss, even if he tried a little, and he would have become a very good magician. But, unfortunately, all his interests did not go beyond Quidditch and chess. To be honest, I found it difficult to answer how he got such strange interests. And he wasn't pretending, he was like that. Ehhh, if he wasn't a Weasley, I would have dragged him into the neighborhood right away, but otherwise he was already too soaked in all this chatter on the topic of Good and Evil. I'll try, but to be honest, I don't feel like it yet.

Potter wasn't much different from his friend either: he was just as lazy, dumb, and unwilling to learn anything. He could have died several times in his freshman year, I don't care. Second year, I didn't give a damn again. And the third one was held under the same motto as, most likely, the subsequent ones. Of course, it was Hermione's fault, she kept letting them cheat, but on the other hand, they weren't trying to kill her from birth. The same household charms could do such a thing to an opponent that no dark magic is needed. Yes, they could be blocked with a regular Proto, but that's if you could block them or if you could. You can also invest so much magic that any Protego will take it down.

And cosmetic ones? Hair removal charms, if you change the gesture slightly, the hair is removed with painful sensations. Moreover, judging by Lavender's comments, they are extremely painful. And these two dummies hardly know the school curriculum, let alone something more advanced. Apparently, the younger Deer is thinking of repeating his dad's feat and dying like him - in hand-to-hand combat. I wonder if at least one year in this school will be peaceful? Although, considering that the Tournament may be the only one, and the rest will be able to study in peace. I tensed up, remembering at least something about the fourth book, and eventually fell back on the pillow in frustration: I couldn't remember anything, well, I didn't like this epic. The further you went, the dumber it was. The last thing that bothered me was how Potter would be made the fourth champion in the Three Schools Cup Tournament. After that, I stopped reading.

"So..." I summoned a magic mirror and looked at myself thoughtfully. "Hmm, I need to change my teeth, otherwise I'm not really..." Smiling once more, I was skeptically forced to admit to myself that smiling doesn't make me look good.

Well, surely there must be some potions or charms to correct the bite? I didn't want to use the magic of Life yet, but I still didn't understand what these dementors were: undead or some kind of demons from another Dark World pulled into this one. Maybe it's some kind of crossbreed, so fuck it, fuck it.

Once again, remembering how many years this body had spent in the magical world, simply not caring for the hair that was scattered wherever possible, I could only groan with longing. There are a hell of a lot of rituals that need to be prepared and performed within a week at most, otherwise paranoia will kill me. How long have I been in the Hogwarts medical wing? You could have drained a barrel of blood out of me there, and I wouldn't have noticed.

"Are you coming?" Lavender brushed past me on her way out of the room, so she probably didn't need my answer. Looking around and noticing that I was alone, I quickly snatched out my wand and cast a dozen spells into the wall of the room, checking how my body obeyed. Well, as expected, the child had absolutely no muscle memory, she put everything Hermione taught into memory and did not practice at all. I'll have to train, train, and train again, otherwise I'm not a little girl anymore, you never know who here will want to be big and clean, and I have neither magical skills nor physical ones. I'll have to give it in the end, but do I need it?

Shouldering my bag, I took a step towards the exit and hovered: "What the fuck do I need a bag for?" They give me a schedule at breakfast, why take it there? Sighing heavily, I once again adjusted the sliding strap of my heavy bag and went to taste the unearthly dishes of English cuisine.

Almost getting lost in the corridors, I still made it to the hall, where once again, only visually, I admired Malfoy's quarrel with Harry and Ron. After that, she had a fight with the headman about why they were handing over the schedule so late. Calm and relaxed after that, I boldly headed to the lessons. On the way, realizing that our lessons were about the History of Magic, I silently turned towards the hospital wing, because although I doubted the professionalism and impartiality of the school's medical doctor, there was no other one at hand. And who should I get professional advice from about teeth and future women's holidays?

"Madam Pomfrey?" angry and tired of the freaking passages and crazy castle stairs, I finally got to the medic and now stared intently at her back.

"Yes? Did you want something?" She stared at me in some surprise.

"I need some advice. Professional, so to speak," I hesitated a little, not very successfully imitating shyness. "You see, I have... Mmm, well, I'm a girl...."

"Aah, I understand," she smiled slightly and, nodding her head in understanding, led the way. "Have you started yet? Right? Why didn't you come before? Here, look and remember."

For a whole hour, I memorized the spells I needed, once again rejoicing at the inadequate development of magic in this world. At the end of the peculiar lesson, the doctor poured into me some kind of potion necessary to solve the problem with my teeth, and after a minute, with one wave of her wand, she corrected my bite.

After politely thanking and saying goodbye, I, stunned, went to the second couple of Stories, reflecting on how multifaceted magic can be. Previously, you would have to turn to a magician of Life, Nature, or a Necromancer, just a potion and intricate charms. The scribe.

"Hermione!" the red-haired idiot called me in a loud whisper once again. For forty fucking minutes, he's been asking me what I was doing in the hospital wing and why I wasn't in class.

I'm just wondering what would happen if I told you that it was Dumbledore's assignment: would Ron immediately become paralyzed with envy, or would he declare me a dark magician?

Potter, by the way, is not far from the redhead, he seems to be silent, but he does not fall asleep and carefully looks me up and down. Apparently, he is also looking for traces of a heroic battle. My words that I had personal matters are not enough for these two. Apparently, the Trio's wedding night was also supposed to be under each other's control.

"Ron, I'm telling you again, I had questions for Madam Pomfrey. I asked them and came to the lesson. Now don't distract me, please."

"Don't you want to talk? Yes? Well, well, I thought we were friends." The redhead proudly turned away from me.

"Ron, are you an idiot?" I stared at him, dumbfounded, rethinking the picture of the world. "Well, that's up to you..."

I didn't even think about it, after all, no one let them copy anymore. Of course, I did not expect that they should also have no secrets from each other. And not just shouldn't, but in an ultimatum form, or fuck off from the Trio. Is that so? I glanced thoughtfully at the "friends" and was forced to realize that, in fact, Hermione considered them friends, but who they considered her was another question. Yes, and why do they have a friendship at all? The more time I lived in this body, the more I was tormented by this question.

The girl, of course, needed friends, but they had too different interests. It's in Rowling's reprinted fairy tale that such personalities could be friends, but in reality, people like Hermione are good friends with themselves. She was too well-read, smart, and educated to be friends with the likes of Weasley and Potter. It may be that somewhere in Russia, no one will be surprised by the friendship of a girl from a wealthy family with bullies, but not in England. Whatever kind of hero Potter was, he looked far from being a hero and was, in fact, a bully. The Weasleys are the same.

Hermione, judging by her memory, was a single-minded girl who stubbornly went to her goal, and to get into somewhere, and even more so to break the rules.... Could they have thrown a Confundus on her? They could have. What for? I squinted at the "friends." Mm-hmm, the question disappears by itself. But what the fuck? Well, they don't want to study, let them not study, why push a smart child to idiots and force her to work hard, trying to keep up in all subjects, and help these deer? I shook my head in disbelief, trying to grasp an elusive thought, and eventually mentally waved my hand. Someone needed it, someone who could afford to throw Confusions on the castle grounds without fear of punishment, and who really wanted to stuff the "brain" into the Trio. Only this someone did not expect that I would get into the body and take down all the illusions....

Glancing sideways at the teacher, I entered a trance and began to quickly review the inherited memories, wincing from time to time from flashes of pain from an undeveloped body. Shortly before the call, I came out of my memories and cursed inwardly - there were Confuses, there were.

And, moreover, someone even rummaged through her head and stuffed a couple of bookmarks there, aimed at friendship with Potter and the Weasleys, protecting the weak and helping the stupid. Of course, the bookmarks were washed out over time - they were not put by a master telepath, apparently they are not in this world, since attacking mentalism is prohibited, or they are hiding, but during the time that they were standing, Hermione managed to shift her worldview a little. I wanted to swear at what had been shoved into her mind. What the fuck does stupid mean? Are they fucking brownies? What the fuck are the weak ones? Can't Potter move his legs on his own, or is he weak? What kind of asshole got into a child's head? Yes, any Guild or Order for the fact that some schmuck got into a child's head, will immediately put cancer on a stake. Of course, the worlds are different, as are the laws, but they don't get into a child's mind until adulthood, they just don't get into it. It's possible to make Warhammer's Chaosians seem like nice neighbors with a few oddities. Okay, erase the memory, okay, the same Confundus, it looks more like a delusion / obsession than a full-fledged mentalism. But here are the bookmarks...

The worst thing is that I couldn't remember who it was. Either it was done at night, which is unlikely, but not impossible. Or she was stunned, but she didn't remember it, only by digging deep will it be possible to find traces. But it takes a hell of a lot of time.

Glancing wistfully at the half-empty parchment, I sighed - there would be another sleepless night, or even more than one, while I figured out what was wrong with the girl's mind and memory. When the bell rang, I took off and, without waiting for my "friends" to figure it out, rushed to the Charm class. I also have to figure it out at recess, getting the same questions, fuck them. How am I supposed to explain to two virgins what I forgot at the nurse's? Should I lie? Sooner or later, any lie comes out, and I didn't want to get caught up in such a small thing, if I was going to lie, then in a big way.

And I didn't want to end my relationship with Potter yet. He seems to have some kind of godfather there, whom we saved last year, and he should have a library of an ancient family. It would be nice to climb in it, if I can figure out how to communicate with offended children....

"Oh, mudblood. Look where you're going...." Malfoy's further speech abruptly began to resemble something bubbling, as his trained memory instantly pulled the Mimble-Wimble spell from the depths of his subconscious and with an unwavering hand slammed into the face of a blond woodpecker who dared to insult a witch.

I flew past his stunned entourage and ran briskly on, ignoring the commotion behind me. It wasn't until I was approaching the classroom that I realized that I had put all my strength into the spell, from the bottom of my heart, as they say. He probably won't be able to take it off himself, and his assistants won't be able to help him.

Leaning back against the wall opposite the classroom, I relaxed as much as possible and allowed my body to restore the reserve, a quarter of which I spent on blond stupidity. The untrained body performed its duties extremely slowly and reluctantly, which made me extremely angry, but I still had no choice. It was possible to develop only naturally or through rituals, but considering that rituals require sacrifices, it would have to be natural.

Feeling the beginnings of empathy, some kind of anticipation, anger, and a bunch of other emotions, I abruptly fell out of the half-trance and immediately exposed the Protego, praying to all the Gods that it would work, since Hermione had only done it a couple of times, just to memorize, and that was it. The spell worked and reflected some kind of enchantment back into the one who was trying to get me. When I saw Malfoy throwing up slugs, I grimaced and turned to the others.

"Don't you have a peaceful life?"

"You started it first, and now you're surprised?" Some black kid made a face, probably meant to indicate sarcasm or ridicule.

"If I start now, we'll go to the medical wing together. I have enough knowledge." I was clutching my wand tightly, looking around at the bunch of Slytherins who were glaring at me with hatred.

Gods, who thought this was a fairy tale at all-they're already ready to kill me, because I dared to touch their pureblood idol. And I don't care that he insulted me, although according to their stupid etiquette, I'm a girl, and insulting me for a self-respecting magician is, first of all, insulting himself. Here a girl with a girl can afford to throw words, but even then with caution. Even a boy can be insulted by a girl, and only then can he say something to her. Hermione had conflicts with the blond one, but they had already passed, and the stupid moth apparently decided that now she could constantly insult me. Now, these guys were all pretending that everything was going as it should.

"What's going on here?" A voice rang out, and Dean Raven came into my field of vision.

"What's going on here?" An unpleasant grin spread across my face. "A member of the Malfoy family tried to sneak attack me. Defending myself, I used a Protego spell and deflected the spell back at the coward who attacked me in a peaceful place. The language I used was, of course, a "punch in the gut," but on the other hand, I wasn't lying about anything.

"She attacked first! Near the History Room, Professor Flitwick" some dark-haired girl with a snub nose got out, whom my memory identified as Parkinson's.

"Is that true, Miss Granger?" The half-goblin turned to me, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"My family was insulted. My mother was called a fallen woman, and I was called the fruit of sin."

"Mudblood, sir. There are no Magicians in my family, there are only Muggles. I can't be a mudblood in this case: I don't have a single inherited curse." I grinned calmly, looking contemptuously into the eyes of Parkinson, who began to understand where these conversations had led in the first place. Hermione went to Mungo with her parents the summer before her sophomore year to resolve the issue of kinship with someone in the magical world. She was distantly related to Dagworth Granger, but her parents are one hundred percent Muggles, and there are no curses on her. And this relationship did not matter, in order to get it, you had to become at least a master in Charms, Potions or Ritualism. Not in the next few years, oh not in the next. Especially since for people like Malfoy, it's still on the same level as mudbloods, so I didn't mention it. I was pushing for something else - one of the Malfoys dared to insult a girl in front of a huge crowd of witnesses, and the fact that I was a mudblood didn't matter, especially since the purebloods themselves didn't know what the Founders meant when they talked about mudbloods, since they themselves were just descendants of these same mudbloods.

"What does cursing have to do with it?" some Slytherin I don't know got in. A mudblood is...

"Who is the founder of your family?" I stared at him coldly. Who is the founder of your family? And who are his parents? There are twenty-eight truly pure-blooded surnames, but you would have died out in a couple of centuries if you had only married each other. Magic is truly omnipotent, but it punishes idiocy. And marriages between close relatives for a long time are idiotic. So go learn your bloodline before you shout about the purity of your blood.

"I get it," Flitwick chimed in, chuckling softly into his beard. "Fifty points from Mr. Malfoy for assaulting a girl, especially in a place like this," he giggled again, ignoring the pale Malfoy, who continued to fertilize the hallway floor. Okay, take him to the hospital wing. And yes, Mr. Malfoy- he's been working for Mr. Filch for a month.

After watching Malfoy thoughtfully, I stepped into the classroom. Of course, he and his support group don't care about my words, but they don't care about that yet. Reputation is a thing that never gets too much, and Malfoy Jr. has already lost too much of it for him to fail sooner or later. They won't remember, of course, that he humiliated a Muggle-born, but in the memory of others he will remain the one who offends girls and hides behind Dad's back. And the higher the family, the more intrigue and incitement there is, so let it be. It won't hurt if I'm a laughing stock who relies on etiquette and unwritten rules that aren't written for people like me. But I'll laugh later, I have a good memory, and now any word the baby says will turn inside out.

Note to the part:

The hero will sometimes refer to himself as a man. This is not a mistake, just problems with self-determination) From the third or fourth chapter, she will come back to normal and will call herself "she". Yes, this is generally MS, but not immediately and far from easy and simple. Read carefully. GG remembers more or less before the third year, after that, everything she remembers can fit on a trolleybus ticket.

Melin is from the works of Nick Perumov. In this world, magicians are divided into Orders: Yellow, Purple, Red, etc. The red ones are mostly fire magicians. Purple - monsters and undead. Yellow - necromancy and blood. In general, Purple and Yellow are quite similar, they just went a little different ways.

For those who are familiar with the work of Nick Perumov, please do not "poop" in the comments)) I know why the Emperor started the rebellion, but this is the point of view of a magician. Yeah, and it wasn't okay. Many magicians and sorceresses were certainly not shit, like the leadership of the Orders. But, in the end, they were still slaughtered at the moment when the most powerful magicians were holding back the breakthrough of the creatures. And in the end, the Emperor agreed to an agreement with the magicians anyway.

The Weasleys are more disgusting than they are, I won't do it. They are not handsome according to the canon either, so all the complaints about Ro's mom and my GG's thoughts. And, yes, all the Weasleys are still "handsome", no one there will be "good". Dumby's not fucking good either, not shit squared, but he's not much good there either. My GG is for the common good or for the good of Britain for fuck's sake, so she will judge subjectively.

Part 2.

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Аннотация: The sorceress enters Hermione's body in the fourth year of Hogwarts. Settling into a new world and emancipation.

Склероша Granger

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Granger