1 through the looking glass 2 si Alexey Osadchuk. Snape's invisible friend

Annotation

AU. Harry escapes from the Dursleys and chooses Snape as his protector. It's surprising that no one except Snape sees the baby... Completely edited!

World of Harry Potter: Harry Potter

Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore

Angst /AU /Drama || jen || PG-13

Size: maxi || Chapters: 11

Start: 06/27/07 || Last update: 29.06.08

Original language: English

Fanfic title in original language: Snape's Invisible Friend

Translation permission: received

Invisible friend Snape

Congratulations! You're having a boy!

Hide and Seek with Snape

Calm before the storm

The Madness of Professor Snape

Riots in Hogsmeade

And the truth will set you free

Smiling Snape? Horrible!

A terrible two years... or is it still five?

The rescue

Christmas at Hogwarts

Completion and New Beginning

Snape's invisible friend

Congratulations! You're having a boy!

Severus Snape was happy. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was empty for the next four weeks. Four blessed weeks of solitude, when you can brew potions and read to your heart's content. Severus was a teacher at Hogwarts, teaching headless idiots for recent years; However, life used to be too hectic for me to take proper rest.

His first year of teaching had been terrible, he was torn between classes, spying for Dumbledore, and trying to maintain his cover at Death Eater meetings. Fortunately, he was not required to attend the "feasts", as Lucius Malfoy liked to call such events. Snape's potion-making skills proved indispensable to the Dark Lord and far more important than his abuse of Muggles, and Severus's aversion to needless torture, much less rape, was well known even before he became a Death Eater. He only joined Voldemort because he had no choice. He was forced by his cruel and cold-blooded uncle, who took custody of the boy and his mother after the mysterious death of Severus' father. The uncle threatened that he would kill his mother in front of him if the young man tried to refuse the mark.

Severus had always hated Slytherin, hated the dark arts that his guardian forced him to study. He was always jealous of the friendships that students from other faculties made so easily. Slytherins never had real friends, there was only the concept of a mutually beneficial alliance, easily destroyed if a more attractive alternative appeared. Therefore, in his sixth year, Snape soberly assessed the situation and turned to Dumbledore in the hope of his protection, but instead, the senior wizard taught him Occlumency - the protection of consciousness - and gave him the opportunity to serve on the side of the Light as a spy. Severus also received something he never dreamed of - respect, care from a mentor and friend.

The Death Eater's duties became minimal after receiving the mark on his seventeenth birthday, and six years later Snape became a Potions Master. The next year, Dumbledore asked the old Potions teacher to leave his position, and Severus turned out to be the ideal candidate to take his place. Voldemort was also pleased that he had a spy close to the only wizard he feared. Thus Severus was freed from the most disgusting duties of a Death Eater. Then that fateful Halloween evening, his second year of teaching, when the Potter boy used his magic to throw the Lord out of his physical body.

Severus had no illusions, he knew everything dark rituals and the potions that Voldemort used in his search for immortality, and understood that the Lord would not give up so easily. He just hoped that no one soon will not find a way to return the body evil spirit.

The rest of that year and the next two were turbulent and terrible - first he was put in Azkaban, and it was only Dumbledore's persistence and influence that forced the Ministry to hold the fascinating spectacle called the trial. Severus was eventually found innocent, but nightmarish visions of Azkaban were likely to haunt him. long years.

Soon the trials of the Death Eaters ended. Of course, if you are rich enough or have influential friends, it is easy to convince a jury that you were kept under the Imperius Curse,” Snape burst into a loud, barking laugh. “If Malfoy had been arrested in his Death Eater robes with a couple of dead Muggles in his arms, the idiot Minister would still have let him escape justice!”

And now, almost three years after that night, the teachers felt safe enough to leave the castle for the summer holidays. Snape was left completely alone for the next four weeks. Professor Sprout will appear once or twice a week for a few hours to visit his greenhouses, and that clumsy Hagrid will live in his hut. And the Castle will be completely at Snape's disposal, well, except for hundreds of house elves, twenty eccentric ghosts and countless wandering portraits.

Severus selected the ingredients with utmost care and precision. He finally had time to work on a potion that would help a werewolf stay lucid during the full moon. Snape was afraid of werewolves to the point of trembling in his knees, apparently because that bastard, his uncle, often threatened to leave him in the forest of the Snape estate on the night of the full moon if the young man behaved inappropriately. And then, in his fifth year, that idiot Sirius Black sent him straight into the werewolf's mouth. Merlin protect you from these idiot Gryffindors!

For several years, the Potions Master tried to find a way to make werewolves safe for others, but due to other responsibilities there was no time to experiment. As a member of the Order of the Phoenix, he worked with Lupine for the last four years before the Dark Lord's overthrow, and soon came to respect the man. But still, despite all the arguments of reason, he continued to be afraid of him.

Severus lit a fire under his favorite cauldron and took out a new quill, parchment and a full inkwell. So, Lycanthropic Potion..date modified..

The kid knew he was hated, but he wasn't sure why. He saw that Dudley was loved, but he was not. He couldn’t even say with certainty what his name was - Abnormal, Boy or It: “What are we going to do with This when we go to the store?” or “What is This doing now?”

But no matter what he was called, his name was never spoken in a soft, gentle voice, but was always shouted, spat out angrily, or hissed.

The boy sat in a dark, smelly closet under the stairs and played. He spent a lot of time here alone and in the dark, but about a year ago he discovered that if he concentrated hard enough, a bright glowing ball would appear in his hands, so from then on he was not afraid to stay in the dark. The boy began stealing Dudley's old books (that slug wouldn't be bored without them), and now that he was almost four years old, he could read them all, and in fact, had already moved on to the magazines that his aunt was throwing away.

The kid knew that he was almost four, since Dudley had a birthday party today, but he didn't. Sometimes Miss Figg could not look after him, and his aunt had to take the boy with her to the store. Then he heard Aunt Petunia answering her neighbor: “Yes, it was her nephew,” and then, “Dudley and the Boy the same age.” So, if Dudley is four years old, then he is about the same age.

The boy created a small shining ball in his left hand, easily transferred it to his right, and lit another one in his left. He was already able to control four balls at once, and he was proud of his achievement. The boy had long ago learned to make sure that neither sound nor light penetrated outside, otherwise his aunt would have yelled at him or, worse, his uncle would have punished him.

There had been no sound from outside for a long time, apparently everyone had gone to the amusement park where a party was being held for his cousin. He didn't know very well what an "amusement park" was; the boy had only seen it on pictures in Dudley's books and magazines that he pulled out of the trash.

The kid knew that his aunt would soon check his closet; she did this about twice a year. He didn’t understand why, but he guessed that he had to find a way to save his books.

The boy winced from the sharp pain below his back; he tried not to disturb the inflamed skin again. The kid wished with all his heart that this fat lump, his cousin, would quickly learn to do his business in the potty. After all, It, of course, cannot learn anything before their precious Dudley. That's why I was forced to wear a wet, smelly diaper, which my aunt changed only twice a day - morning and evening.

The boy knew very well how to use the toilet, after all, it was not that difficult, but he could never use it while one of his relatives was in the house.

The child tried to distract himself from the pain and focus on a more pressing problem. He didn't want to return the books to Dudley's second bedroom; it would be too difficult to get in and then take everything back. And he loved magazines so much, especially those that talked about food. Sometimes the boy wondered: what if he could try something other than toast, celery and water? Occasionally he got overripe, almost black bananas, and sometimes old cheese and meat, but he never tried what was shown in the pictures.

Therefore, if he does not want to lose his things, where could he hide them? In a tiny closet with two shelves for...

So, have you finally decided? - Surprisingly, Vainar reacted very calmly to the news about my move. - Well, you chose a place for yourself...

Yes,” I shrug. - You understand... The circumstances...

Yes, really... No matter how paradoxical it may sound, we are not playing with toys. Everyone has their own problems and goals.

If only you knew how much I don't want to move...

And this is the honest truth. I don't like change. Over the past nine days, I have immersed myself in a kind of metropolitan microclimate. I met normal people, and what can I say, things work out well for me with non-literate people too. But as Vainar correctly noted, I seem to be in a game, but I don’t play, I live. Let it be virtual life...

You know, we don’t know each other at all, but I’ve already become attached to you,” Raggh grumbled with regret in his voice. - Yes, and Soril too... Only recently they washed your bones... Hehe...

Mutually,” I smile in response.

In fact, there are not many people here with whom you can just chat like that. Everyone is in a hurry, in a hurry. I understand the game, a lot of money is paid for accounts... Well, oh well... Calf tenderness aside! Let's get down to business.

I mentally thank Vaynar for not asking unnecessary questions. He probably guesses what caused my move. Players like me don't just rent a house in Melenville and then abruptly move to one of the most dangerous places in this virtual world. And he knows about it.

“So it’s like that,” continues Raggh. - As far as I understand, you want to continue to writhe Lady Mel?

Absolutely right,” I nod in response. - Everything suits me. You know it yourself.

Well, this is me for the record,” Raggh smiles. - The procedure is as follows... For such moments, several options for the development of further labor relations are provided. For example, a player got stuck, but I don’t have any mines for his level...

It took me some effort to remain calm. The fact is that I still decided to hide my “master” further. I make good money from emeralds, and there is relative stability, not counting the move, of course... What is the point of switching to a new resource now? Yes, they pay more, but that won't solve my problem. Something tells me that this will even make my situation worse. The primary goal for this moment- credit. Although if you think about it... Theoretically, there are more than enough advantages. A strong clan, for example, the Steel Hundred. Protected area. Surely, trips to rich Instagram accounts. But how much will I receive from all these benefits? No, I’m not some kind of redneck, I just don’t trust people. Who will guarantee that my problem will be heard and perceived as I would like? Surely they will want to take advantage of my weakness. First they will feed you, and then goodbye freedom. No really...

I understand that this is not about you yet,” Vainar continued, not noticing my condition. - But my advice to you is to start calculating your options. With your persistence, in six or seven months you’ll get a “master.” And you should already understand this...

Having said this, Raggh raised his clawed finger upward instructively.

Trying to look natural, I smile.

Thanks for the advice. The main thing is not to give up ahead of time...

Don't drift! - Vainar grins. - If you do everything right, you will outlive us all... So that's what I mean... There are several options. The most optimal one for you, I think, is a regular translation. You signed a “trial” contract... Right? But two weeks have not yet passed. Look what I propose... Since Lady Mel has emerald mines in the vicinity of the Maragar Citadel, I will transfer you to one of these mines. Theoretically, you won’t even have to report to the authorities there. He came to the mine and dug stones for his own pleasure. Although I still recommend checking in...

Here it is further proof of my assumptions and fears. Even a person with whom I have a normal relationship is trying to improve his situation at my expense. To tell the truth, I understand him. He doesn't want to lose an "experienced" miner. Surely there are some bonuses for me. On the other hand, why not? Cooperation with Vainar is also beneficial for me. Friendly relations seem to have improved. Look, a two-week contract with his recommendation will turn into a permanent one. Is there any point in breaking off such a successful relationship now? Who knows what the move will turn out to be for me?

Great! - I nod. - Even better than I expected. And then I think about it... New place... New people...

Exactly! - Vaynar beams. - You're thinking in the right direction!

An hour later I left the office and headed towards the portal. The formalities have been settled. The transfer agreement has been signed. There are still a few things left to do and off to a new place of residence. Fortunately, according to the terms of the assignment, it will be free from me. Something told me that the barracks of the Maragar Citadel are not one of the most comfortable places in the Looking Glass. I think about the robes and pajamas from Ronald's inn, I will remember there every evening... By the way, I have already said goodbye to the owner of the "Weary Traveler", all I have to do is drop in to Mila and find out how Tommy is doing. I know, it’s not written, but somehow I’ve already become attached to this boy. Probably because he is somewhat reminiscent of my Krista... It’s decided that I’ll drop by for a second, but only after I’ve met with another of my employers.

The solicitor's office, as always, was met with silence and mustiness. Cobwebs on the chandelier, dust on the paintings, stale air... Nikanor did not like to ventilate his office. Moreover, his servant had to do this secretly from the owner. I don’t know how the developers managed to convey the whole range of unpleasant odors of this place. It always smelled like an old man's kennel, old paper and, for some reason, rotten apples. I guess - these are quirks of my consciousness. Something reminded me of this picture... Something from my past... Apparently I associated the situation in Nikanor’s office with something I had seen earlier in real life.

The old man was sitting at his desk, scratching with a quill pen on a yellow sheet of paper. All this action was accompanied by an unpleasant creaking sound and occasional coughing. Elderly lips silently duplicated the words appearing on the paper. The picture was completed by a greasy brown robe, three days of unshaven hair on his sagging cheeks, and sparse hair that was always unwashed on his balding head.

You know, Old,” the lawyer croaked, not looking up from his work. - It’s even good that you’re leaving. And it’s doubly good that you’re going to those parts. I have something for you...

That's the number! How does he know this? Apart from Vaynar, no one knows about my mission, and he has no business going to Melenville yet. And what could connect him with the old lawyer? There's a problem... I didn't even tell Soril. The gnome, by the way, calmly reacted to my secrecy. Guys understand that I can’t talk much...

A second later, Nikanor dispelled all my doubts.

As soon as I received a notification from the city administration that you were enlisted in the garrison of the Maragar Citadel, I realized - this is a sign from above!

Bone, dry fingers, stained with ink, nervously drum on the tabletop. The colorless eyes are narrowed dreamily. The old man was very excited. Not a trace remained of the feigned indifference. A slight blush appeared on her pale gray cheeks.

But it was not in vain that I came here... Having agreed to become the “defender of the Maragar Citadel”, I perfectly understood that I would have to give up the monthly reputation task, and all the other mini-reputation quests too. Undoubtedly, I was pleased by the fact that I would no longer see this cantankerous old man. Always grumbling and dissatisfied with his gray virtual life. But the loss of almost eight hundred reputation units was very upsetting. Moreover, I have already run out so much, sometimes carrying out stupid, time-consuming assignments.

To my beloved wife...

Chapter 1

You see, Oleg Ivanovich, our bank does not see you as a potential payer,” the clerk looks into your eyes with false sympathy. A bead of sweat runs down his round, clean-shaven cheek. Plump pink lips are deliberately stretched into an obsequious smile. The virgin white palm, which probably hasn’t held anything heavier than a fork, now and then adjusts the wide knot of the tie. The presence of knuckles on the cam is not visible even in a compressed state.

Am I not careful with my payments?

There is always a sum in the account, my wife and I call it the “last cartridge”, no matter what happens, this money should BE. The first day of the month is a bloody nose, but the bank will get what it deserves.

What do you! - plump palms shot up. - Every client would like such punctuality.

So what's the deal? - I touch the bridge of my nose with my index finger, trying to adjust my non-existent glasses.

Habit. The glasses came to an end two weeks ago. I fainted that day. For the first time in my life. No, I'm not sick. The doctor said the body was exhausted. Nervous system loose. Insomnia. There is something to it. And the fact that I broke my glasses... It’s a pity, of course, but what can you do? Now I have to constantly squint. To buy new ones extra money No. Everything goes towards my daughter’s treatment...

You see, the amount you are asking for, plus what you already owe us, cannot be returned to you. Even if you had three more lives left... You no longer have real estate. There are no relatives as guarantors either. Salary is below average. My wife, excuse me, is unemployed...

The fluffy clerk suddenly stopped short and blushed deeply. Apparently, something evil flashed in my eyes. I took a deep breath, calming down... I looked away.

All I needed now was to snap and ruin everything... This loan is very important for us. Or rather, for my daughter.

It all started with a barely audible heart murmur. The doctor then reassured me, saying that at three years old this is quite acceptable. It will outgrow. She hasn’t outgrown it... Kristina is six, and her, already second, heart is dying... Her family burned down in just a year.

Money for the transplant was raised quickly. We sold an apartment and a house in the village. Quietly, so that no one could see us, we jumped with joy when we found out that there was a donor heart. Maybe someone will judge me. After all, if there is a heart, it means that someone’s child has died. Anyone who has not sat at the bedside of a dying daughter will never understand me. I don’t really care about the judgment and opinions of other people. The main thing is that Christina lives...

The operation was performed in Germany. Top clinic, professional doctors. The doctor assured that if the heart takes root, the girl will live happily ever after. And we, with tears of happiness in our eyes, believed. Throughout the year, our faith gradually grew and took root. Krista got stronger and stopped choking. My nails didn't turn blue. She is strong for me! The doctors kept saying that a young body would overcome the disease... But the trouble returned...

Chronic rejection... As they explained to us, the problem is in the blood.

My child had a complete heart prosthesis implanted. With a ten-kilogram battery that had to be recharged every twelve hours. We were told that this device was a breakthrough in medicine. Stopgap measure. Until another donor heart is found... If found...

We waited a week, and then Dr. Klaus came to us. He explained that we were on the so-called “risk list.” In other words, we were put on the “black list”... Christina’s body did not accept the first donor heart, which lowered our name to the very end of the transplant queue.

I remember the pain and tears in the eyes of Sveta, my wife. Her look said: “Is this really all?” Pale lips automatically count the number of extrasystoles of the rather loudly ticking prosthesis in Christina’s chest. We were warned: patients who have undergone such surgical operations are susceptible to psychopathological syndrome. But in our case, Christina perceived the slight vibration and ticking of the prosthesis absolutely normally. She also tried to joke that she had a bomb in her chest. But Sveta became “infected”. Not even half an hour passed without her checking the battery charging and wire connections. She hardly slept at night, listening to the beating of a mechanical heart. And already in the morning, when the medical staff appeared, to the sound of the TV, she fell into a restless sleep, placing her palm on her daughter’s chest.

Having finished his explanation, Dr. Klaus was in no hurry to leave. Is there really hope? We both stood up like two hyenas ready to pounce. He started talking. With every word, his wife's gaze became clearer. It turned out that in one of the laboratories in Japan two years ago, during a successful experiment, a real living heart was grown and, very importantly, it was successfully implanted in this clinic in Germany, precisely by Dr. Klaus. The patient's DNA was taken as a basis, in our case - an ideal solution.

The Japanese performed a miracle. Exactly the miracle we needed... The doctor spoke for a long time, describing the whole process. And we listened to him with emotion, already imagining how our baby would recover...

We came down to earth when we started talking about money. Dr. Klaus has already contacted the Japanese. From the “embryo” stage to a full-fledged organ, the process lasted approximately two months, give or take a week. Summing up the price for laboratory services, shipping, surgery, as well as the length of stay here in the clinic, and taxes, where without them, the amount came out to two hundred twenty thousand euros. And this takes into account discounts from both the Japanese laboratory and the Berlin clinic. By the way, later reading the price list, I discovered that the Germans and Japanese divided the profits almost in half. It turned out that growing a heart cost only a little more than implanting it.

Were we shocked to hear the price? Honestly, no. We were happy. When Herr Klaus left, gently giving us time to think, we hugged each other tightly and burst into tears. At that moment I didn’t want to rack my brains about where to get so much money. No. We were thinking about something else. Our girl will live! Not with a piece of iron in your chest ticking like a time bomb. Not bedridden, but with a real living heart! She will live!

We signed a contract with the Germans for full hospital care. DNA samples were sent to the Japanese, but they agreed to start the process only after a money transfer of thirty-five thousand euros. They wanted fifty, but the Germans helped negotiate. So, as soon as the laboratory’s account receives funds, the heart will begin to grow...

After signing all the papers and saying goodbye to my family, I flew home. Inspired by hope.

Sveta remained in Germany at the clinic. We have exactly three weeks' worth of money left. We had to hurry...

Oleg Ivanovich! Oleg Ivanovich! What's wrong with you? You feel bad? - The plush clerk timidly touched my hand.

1

Through the Looking Glass 2. Chapter 1. - So, you’ve finally decided? - Surprisingly, Vainar reacted very calmly to the news about my move. - Well, you chose a place for yourself... - Yes, - I shrug. - You understand... Circumstances... - Yes, really... No matter how paradoxical it may sound, we are not playing with toys. Everyone has their own problems and goals. - If you only knew how much I don’t want to move... And this is the honest truth. I don't like change. Over the past nine days, I have immersed myself in a kind of metropolitan microclimate. I met normal people, and what can I say, things work out well for me with non-literate people too. But as Vainar correctly noted, I seem to be in a game, but I don’t play, I live. Even if it’s a virtual life... “You know, we don’t know each other well, but I’ve already become attached to you,” Raggg grumbled with regret in his voice. - Yes, and Soril too... Only recently they washed your bones... Hehe... - Mutually, - I smile in response. - In fact, there are not many people here with whom you can just chat like that. Everyone is in a hurry, in a hurry. I understand the game, a lot of money is paid for accounts... Well, oh well... Calf tenderness aside! Let's get down to business. I mentally thank Vaynar for not asking unnecessary questions. He probably guesses what caused my move. Players like me don’t just rent a house in Melenville and then abruptly move to one of the most dangerous places in this virtual world. And he knows about it. “So it’s like that,” continues Raggh. - As far as I understand, you want to continue to writhe Lady Mel? “Exactly right,” I nod in response. - Everything suits me. You know it yourself. “Well, this is me for the record,” Raggh smiles. - The procedure is as follows... For such moments, several options for the development of further labor relations are provided. For example, a player fell asleep, but I didn’t have any mines for his level... It was hard for me to remain calm. The fact is that I still decided to hide my “master” further. I make good money from emeralds, and there is relative stability, not counting the move, of course... What is the point of switching to a new resource now? Yes, they pay more, but that won't solve my problem. Something tells me that this will even make my situation worse. The primary goal at the moment is credit. Although if you think about it... Theoretically, there are more than enough advantages. A strong clan, for example, the Steel Hundred. Protected area. Surely, trips to rich Instagram accounts. But how much will I receive from all these benefits? No, I’m not some kind of redneck, I just don’t trust people. Who will guarantee that my problem will be heard and perceived as I would like? Surely they will want to take advantage of my weakness. First they will feed you, and then goodbye freedom. No, really... “I understand that this is not about you yet,” Vainar continued, not noticing my condition. - But my advice to you is to start calculating your options. With your persistence, in six or seven months you’ll get a “master.” And this, you yourself should understand... Having said this, raggh, instructively raised his clawed finger up. Trying to look natural, I smile. - Thanks for the advice. The main thing is not to give up ahead of time... - Don't drift! - Vainar grins. - If you do everything right, you will outlive us all... So that's what I mean... There are several options. The most optimal one for you, I think, is a regular translation. You signed a “trial” contract... Right? But two weeks have not yet passed. Look what I propose... Since Lady Mel has emerald mines in the vicinity of the Maragar Citadel, I will transfer you to one of these mines. Theoretically, you won’t even have to report to the authorities there. He came to the mine and dug stones for his own pleasure. Although I still recommend checking in... This is further proof of my assumptions and fears. Even a person with whom I have a normal relationship is trying to improve his situation at my expense. To tell the truth, I understand him. He doesn't want to lose an "experienced" miner. Surely there are some bonuses for me. On the other hand, why not? Cooperation with Vainar is also beneficial for me. Friendly relations seem to have improved. Look, a two-week contract with his recommendation will turn into a permanent one. Is there any point in breaking off such a successful relationship now? Who knows what the move will turn out to be for me? - Great! - I nod. - Even better than I expected. And then when I think about it... New place... New people... - That's it! - Vaynar beams. - You're thinking in the right direction! An hour later I left the office and headed towards the portal. The formalities have been settled. The transfer agreement has been signed. There are still a few things left to do and off to a new place of residence. Fortunately, according to the terms of the assignment, it will be free from me. Something told me that the barracks of the Maragar Citadel are not one of the most comfortable places in the Looking Glass. I think about the robes and pajamas from Ronald's inn, I will remember there every evening... By the way, I have already said goodbye to the owner of the "Weary Traveler", all I have to do is drop in to Mila and find out how Tommy is doing. I know, it’s not written, but somehow I’ve already become attached to this boy. Probably because he is somewhat reminiscent of my Krista... It’s decided that I’ll drop by for a second, but only after I’ve met with another of my employers. The solicitor's office, as always, was met with silence and mustiness. Cobwebs on the chandelier, dust on the paintings, stale air... Nikanor did not like to ventilate his office. Moreover, his servant had to do this secretly from the owner. I don’t know how the developers managed to convey the whole range of unpleasant odors of this place. It always smelled like an old man's kennel, old paper and, for some reason, rotten apples. I guess - these are quirks of my consciousness. Something reminded me of this picture... Something from my past... Apparently I associated the situation in Nikanor’s office with something I had seen earlier in real life. The old man was sitting at his desk, scratching with a quill pen on a yellow sheet of paper. All this action was accompanied by an unpleasant creaking sound and occasional coughing. Elderly lips silently duplicated the words appearing on the paper. The picture was completed by a greasy brown robe, three days of unshaven hair on his sagging cheeks, and sparse hair that was always unwashed on his balding head. “You know, Old,” the lawyer rasped, without looking up from his work. - It’s even good that you’re leaving. And it’s doubly good that you’re going to those parts. I have one little thing for you... That's the number! How does he know this? Apart from Vaynar, no one knows about my mission, and he has no business going to Melenville yet. And what could connect him with the old lawyer? There's a problem... I didn't even tell Soril. The gnome, by the way, calmly reacted to my secrecy. The men understand that I can’t chat much... A second later, Nikanor dispelled all my doubts. - As soon as I received a notification from the city administration that you were enlisted in the garrison of the Maragar Citadel, I realized that this was a sign from above! Bone, dry fingers, stained with ink, nervously drum on the tabletop. The colorless eyes are narrowed dreamily. The old man was very excited. Not a trace remained of the feigned indifference. A slight blush appeared on her pale gray cheeks. But it was not in vain that I came here... Having agreed to become the “defender of the Maragar Citadel”, I perfectly understood that I would have to give up the monthly reputation task, and all the other mini-reputation quests too. Undoubtedly, I was pleased by the fact that I would no longer see this cantankerous old man. Always grumbling and dissatisfied with his gray virtual life. But the loss of almost eight hundred reputation units was very upsetting. Moreover, I have already run out so much, sometimes carrying out stupid, time-consuming assignments. Of course, it would be easier to throw thoughts about this task out of my head, but something still made me appear in the lawyer’s office. I understand that he is just a soulless program, a set of scripts... But as practice has shown in Through the Looking Glass, accidents are not accidental. Very good! All that remains is to find out what the miser needs. “Listen to me carefully, Old,” Nikanor began in a half-whisper, pointing at me with a shaking old hand. - Yes, sit down finally... My neck is already stiff... I recognize my boss. As always, quarrelsome and irritable. I sit down on the indicated chair and, obeying the demanding gesture of a bony hand, lean forward slightly. What are the secrets of the Madrid court? - I have all your attention, master. I have never called Nikanor “master” before. I admit, I did this on purpose, in case I lose a couple more reputation units. I already understood that with non-scripts you need to play your role to the end. Thanks to the developers... It seems that the lawyer appreciated it. Look, he lifted his lower lip, the old senile guy. - You know, Old. Many couriers have passed through me. So many. Mostly stupid, lazy and stupid. I've seen a lot of rude people. I have a separate conversation with such people... Cough, cough... But I’ve never had an assistant like you before... Efficient, delicate, and most importantly, what I really value, trustworthy. In spite of myself, I glance briefly at the sleeve of my jacket, decorated with colorful embroidery. It looks like the ribbons are working, or maybe it's just a coincidence. - Thank you for the praise, master. - So... As I already said, I have one thing to do in those places where you are planning to go. Will you take it? An inscription appeared before my eyes: -You just received a task"Old Nikanor's interest". - Task: Report daily all the news in the field of legal proceedings in the location "Vicinities of the Maragar Citadel." - Reward: Unknown. - Accept/Reject? While I was reading the system message, the old man continued to say: “Basically, we don’t need much from you.” I need eyes and ears in those parts. I'm thinking about expanding my business. If everything grows together, there will be a place for you too. Well, how? What do you say? - Well, I don’t know... I’ll have to serve in the Citadel. There won’t be any time at all... - I’m trying to beat myself up. The lawyer smiled with a toothless mouth. He doesn’t write, but he understands what’s what. - Don't worry about the reward. I won’t offend you... To confirm his words, the system produces a new piece of information: - By agreeing to help Nikanor, you automatically retain the right to a reward for the monthly reputation task. This is what it means... It’s not in vain that I came here, oh, it’s not in vain! “Besides, my assignment is not so difficult,” the old man continued to whisper. - Since you won’t be able to appear every day with a report, you will look through the latest press and put marks in this magazine. Having said this, Nikanor pushed me an old, battered notebook. - I am especially interested in inheritance litigation and divorce proceedings. Well, you know that yourself... I looked at the notebook. - Name:Nikanor's old diary. - Type: Quest. Basically, nothing special. I guess all these so-called “secret” tasks are not worth a damn. I can imagine how many players had to listen to the old lawyer's confession. I would never believe that I was receiving a unique quest. Gleb said that tasks are cyclical. Even if the frequency of repetitions is low, but still... I think Nikanor had a lot of people like me. But the developers' goals are clear. First, create an atmosphere of reality of what is happening. Knowing myself, I can say with confidence that “mirror souls” cope with their task one hundred percent. Everything here looks very real... Secondly, reputation quests belong to the so-called social quests. Developers have more than enough hidden tasks, and I don’t really want to think about this issue. There is also a third... Benefit... Not for me, of course... How to understand the phrase " report all the news"? It's simple. I will have to look through several local newspapers every day, and then carefully write everything down in the solicitor's notebook. The task couldn't be easier. Only there are also underwater pebbles here. They are not particularly large, but they are there... For example, I assume that you will have to buy at least a dozen newspapers, and this is at least three or four gold coins. Next... Writing instruments... In Through the Looking Glass, everything is interconnected. Someone needs to pump up the same alchemist who makes ink. And some farmer probably delivers the goose feathers to the stationery shop. That same Zakhar, my casual acquaintance, was carrying a lot of things to the fair on his cart... So, these are the pies... - Agreed! - I extend my hand to the old man with a smile. Having accepted all the tasks and quickly said goodbye to Nikanor, he jumped out to Fresh air . All that remains is to visit Mila and I can go to the place of my new service... On the way, I stopped at the bakery and bought some sweets for Tommy. I hope he has recovered by now. Harold's wife, Rita, answered the door. Seeing me on the threshold, she smiled welcomingly and invited me into the house. “Here,” I hold out paper bags with cakes. - Still fresh. Tommy jumped out of the salon like a red meteor and immediately began begging his aunt for his portion. “First you’ll have lunch, and then it’ll come to sweets,” Rita answered in a mentoring tone. “Well, it’s always like this,” the little one sighs, following for a long time the pink bag being carried away by his aunt to the kitchen. - Mister, Old! - a familiar voice made me turn around. Mila cheerfully walked down the stairs and smiled cheerfully. All the same red curls and funny freckles on his slightly upturned nose. A light blue dress and a translucent turquoise scarf. - I am very happy! - Good afternoon! - I answer smiling. - But I dropped in to visit the patient, and I already saw that he was not sick at all. The woman smiled happily. - Well, why are you standing in the hallway? Come to the salon! Coffee? “I won’t refuse,” I nod in response. - You know, I was tired this morning. Many affairs. - Well, fine. The women quickly set the table. And a few minutes later the three of us were drinking black coffee. I don’t know what smells my interlocutors smelled. Another question is, did they feel anything at all? It doesn’t matter... Having taken another sip, I finally remembered this aroma, or rather the place where I first smelled it. This was at the beginning of May. Sveta and I had just gotten married and went to the Mediterranean Sea. We sat on the terrace of a local cafe and drank coffee. Smiling, we watched the children frolic on the beach... Delving into my memories, I did not immediately hear that Harold’s sister was addressing me. - Mister, Old! Mister, Old! Are you feeling unwell? Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I tiredly answered: - No, no... Please forgive me... I just remembered something... Did you say something? “Yes,” Rita nodded. - I told you that we were waiting for you. - Oh, that's how it is? - I’m surprised, but then I lightly slap myself on the forehead: “Has Harold already told you that I’m leaving?” “Yes,” Mila answers. - That's why we were waiting for you. We were sure that you would not leave without saying goodbye. The look on Tommy's mom's face said she wanted to ask me for something. About something very important to her. “As I understand it,” I begin first. - You have something to do with me, don’t you? Mila blushed slightly. “You see, Mr. Auld,” Rita answered for her relative. “My husband’s cousin believes that lately she has already been harassing you with her requests. - Well, what are you talking about, Mila! - smiling, I wave my hands. - What nonsense! I will say more, it is still unknown who is in debt to whom. After all, without your recommendation, I would have had to look for a decent place to live for a long time. You and Tommy can be said to be my first friends in the capital. - Exactly! - Rita raised her index finger instructively. - That's exactly what I told her. Judge for yourself, Old, what kind of inconvenience can there be between good friends? The instant message that appeared before my eyes made me shudder slightly, fortunately my interlocutors did not notice anything. - Congratulations, Old! INac Several residents of the capital consider him a friend. - Reward: +300units to the reputation of the city of Melenville. I quickly looked at the specifications. Excellent, almost one thousand five hundred units! Very good! Even wonderful! “That’s absolutely true,” I answer, smiling. - You can fully count on me. I have all your attention. Rita put an encouraging hand on her husband's cousin's shoulder. “You see, Old,” Mila began, finding words with difficulty. - What I ask you about is connected... hmm... with certain risks. Even to some extent a danger to life... I tensed. I understand that we have developed a certain friendly relationship, but I don’t need any extra risk. Moreover, I already have a “month of wandering” planned. - Before I voice my request, promise me that you will refuse if you consider it too dangerous for you. I assure you that your refusal will in no way affect your friendship with our family. The fact is that we understand perfectly well that you are not a warrior or a battle mage. You are an ordinary peaceful citizen of Melenville. I could only nod in response. What can I say? She is right. “Thank you for your frankness,” Mila smiled. - Now it’s much easier for me to speak. The point is that Harold told us where you were going. “Yes, indeed,” confirmed Rita. - The surroundings of the Maragar Citadel are not the most the best place for citizens like you, dear Old. I just shrug. Like, the motherland is calling. And all that... - And we sincerely admire you! Here is a worthy example of a true citizen of Melenville! I was already expecting a new message from the system, but, alas, it seems that this source is not so bottomless. Silently again, I shrug. Like, I’m also modest. Eh... If you only knew with what pleasure I would refuse this task... - I won’t beat around the bush, - Mila continued. - Surely you are in a hurry... The essence of my matter is this... I would like you to give this letter to my husband... I looked at the item indicated, and almost coughed when I read the name of the addressee... - Name:Mila's letter. - Type: Quest. - Delivery location: Maraga Citadel. - Recipient's name: Sotnik Gard. 8