24 Chapter 24 Black.

Everyone was leaving for the holidays, the red engine was already under steam, but I had things to do again, there was no time to rest. Almost immediately after explaining the situation to my guardian, in the world of simpletons, it was necessary to warn about their affairs while not violating the statute, I went with Flitwick to defend the skill. The paper version of the work was ready long ago. It included, in addition to the hurry spell, a set of improved anti-Muggle and protection spells, plus another new spell from Muggles. These improvements in known charms have been cited as a byproduct of research. Charms were given as examples, indirectly touching on the main topic. This was the move my supervisor, Flitwick, insisted on, so that my work would go better in the ministry. These protective and anti-Muggle charms may be very specific, but even these are perceived by the ministry in a biased and positive way.

This time we did not need to leave the country, the defense took place in the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain. In the spacious room with an amphitheater, there were two or even three dozen enchanters of different ages and nationalities. There were Arabs and Americans, French and Chinese, I noticed one Japanese, and even a Russian with a semi-savage African, judging by his habits, and this is not counting the British. All the masters were dressed in business European suits with robes over them, except for one Chinese, who was dressed in national clothes, which, however, looked quite strict and businesslike.

First there was a report on the topic of my work, for about fifteen minutes. Then came the questions about the topic and outside of the topic of my work, it took another hour.

As I asked more questions, I realized that the British masters were the most hostile to me, while the French were the most supportive, and everyone else remained neutral. This arrangement turned out to be unpleasant, but, after some thought, understandable. It was the British who perceived me as a competitor, although they tried to show that they were happy for the honor and face of the British magical community. The French, especially the European champion, saw me only as a talented young wizard, a student of Flitwick, whom they supported on the corporate ethics of the dueling club. The rest of the foreigners didn't really care, and they just judged with an open mind.

Then it came to the demonstrations of charms. First, I had to perform all the spells that I somehow touched during my report, and then others that were just given to me as tasks. Here I have already made an impression not only on the French, but also on other foreigners. My fellow countrymen remained indifferent to my skills.

If my defense wasn't just brilliant, I would have failed. Despite everything, the British were opposed to me, and since the defense was held in the British Ministry of Magic, the word of the local magicians was the main one.

"It's time to take stock of this defense," said Glen Emerson, chairman of the commission-by status, and half-breed-by descent. He was the one who tried the hardest to ask me tricky questions, to which there is no clear answer. It's possible that he could have failed me in the theoretical part, but I voiced all the theories that were known. And when he insisted on a single answer, he chose the theory that Glen himself supports. Such insight was available to me thanks to my newly developed abilities in the field of legilimency.

However, once I did run into it, it was too idiotic theory supported by Glen in the question of the reasonableness of magic. He thought she was a goddess, and all magicians were her favorite children. I had no need to oppose this theory, but I had the audacity to point out a few weak points of this theory. Such as the birth of squibs, the appearance of Muggle-borns, and the shifting kickbacks of broken oaths. Individually, all these phenomena do not prove anything, but all together show that the choice of magic is a random thing, and if there is a mind in it, it is very primitive, at the level of execution of simple algorithms. Magic itself is not capable of making decisions, and all its actions are the consequences of the actions of magicians or magical creatures.

Glen "attacked" me, citing the appearance of natural magical springs and seasonal magical phenomena. I beat back his attack by saying that many shamans know for sure that our planet is alive in itself and can be equated to some extent with magical creatures, and seasonal phenomena are caused either by the rituals of magicians, repeated from year to year for many centuries, or can be considered as natural phenomena, such as spring rut in animals or thunderstorms in the atmosphere.

However, as a finishing touch, I have already given the theory that I liked myself. The theory was that for each individual mage, Magic was personalized according to their strength and character. It is this Magic that wizards see, their own Magic. Someone sees a wise matron, someone sees an unusually attractive beautiful young girl, and still others see a dangerous beast or light, or fire, or something else. The theory is not new, but it is not very popular.

The Japanese applauded for the support of this theory, and several other magicians supported him. But now, as a result, the British magicians began to break my defense of the masterwork without explaining the reasons and without any strong arguments.

— You have demonstrated practical skills in creating spells, and knowledge of the theory you have is satisfactory, — said Glen, but still, the master is something more than a knowledge of the theory and ability to create a spell, the wizard is a deep understanding of magic and the ability to navigate without landmarks, that is, not knowledge, and intuition to make the right decisions. I see that the applicant is still too young, he has everything ahead of him. So far, the experience is clearly not enough.

— The Commission refuses to grant you the title of Master of Enchantment, Arrakis Blair, " said another Briton, clearly supporting Emerson.

Chairman Glen was about to hit the gavel, marking the end of the defense and my failure, when the Frenchman, the reigning European champion, stood up. If Glen Emerson was large and a little plump, although he had not yet lost his shape, and all his movements and even his speech were too strict and stingy, then the Frenchman, as if in contrast to Emerson, was fast and relaxed in movement and speech, with a toned athletic figure.

"Wait, Monsieur le President," said the Frenchman. — I would like to speak for the majority, — the Frenchman said, looking around theatrically and waving his hand, smiling. There were cheers from the other masters, and I noticed that the champion was indeed supported by the majority of those present.

"My name is Jean-Pierre Duval —" the Frenchman said, " and I'm the reigning European dueling champion, if anyone doesn't know me." I want to say that the applicant showed excellent knowledge and skills in the field of enchantment. If the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain, represented by the respected masters of Albion, refuses Monsieur Blair the title of master, then the Ministry of Magic of France will be happy to give this title, even without an additional meeting, and at the end of today. Thanks!

You should have seen Glen's face when he heard that. I don't know why he wanted to kill me, but there could have been many reasons. There is a reluctance to let a competitor in, a desire to put an upstart, young and early, in his place, and possible friction with Flitwick, but all his obstacles were useless thanks to the simple and elegant action of the Frenchman.

"The Commission, by a majority, assigns Arrakis Blair the title of master," the chairman announced, and reluctantly struck the gavel three times. - I ask the secretary to enter the decision of the commission in the minutes.

After the defense, Jean-Pierre congratulated me personally. Then he also congratulated Filius Flitwick. It seemed to me that Duval was very pleased to prick Glen Emerson, and at the same time to do a little service to Flitwick.

The papers were sent to the ministry, and soon I will be considered an adult. It will be possible to get rid of the supervision. After all, I never made myself a spare wand, although I already had enough knowledge and skills.

The chairman, with a tight smile, handed me a ring confirming my skill, after which I went home, and the half-goblin and Duval went to celebrate, without me.

Was I afraid that my development would become public and I would lose the advantage? No! For the next twenty or thirty years, my "hurry" spell will be a highlight for a few wizards. First, the spell is quite expensive, and when you try to cast any other spell, it, meaning "hurry", is interrupted. The spell can only be cast on yourself, when cast on a third-party person, it immediately "falls". Therefore, this spell in combat conditions will be useful only for fans of cold weapons. In addition, the society of wizards accepts new items very reluctantly, slowly. For example, before the beginning of the twentieth century, the spell of apparation was somewhat different, worse in many respects. During the initial and final stages of the apparation, the wizard who moved with the old spell was very vulnerable. Even if only for a second, it left a trace of the entrance or exit from the apparation in the form of a magical haze in space. Attacking this haze could injure or kill the wizard, while the wizard himself could not prevent it in any way.

After the opening of the new apparition, the vulnerability almost disappeared. The entrance and exit from the apparation occurred in the form of a distortion of space. Like circles on water, the space first diverges, and then the wave suddenly goes back, smoothing out the distortion. The entrance is almost instantaneous, as is the exit, and it is impossible to influence the wizard in any way through the distortions of space in a fraction of a second. The new method also had its negative sides, for example, splitting. Actually, the new apparatus was then called transgression, but now these two methods have become eponymous and synonymous.

Do you think all the wizards immediately switched to a new apparition? No! Relearning is harder than learning. Despite the fact that the new spell is better, most continued to use the old one, only a few were retrained.

Regarding potions, I have a question: how much do I need it now? No, no, the potion-making itself will be useful to me, but the potion-making skills I did not really give up. If I become some kind of official potion maker, then of course, you need to have skill, but to brew potions "for yourself", no rank is required.

I have to give credit to Snape, he pulled me up well in his discipline. He ran me through all the topics and analyzed every nuance in all the known potions in detail, but I didn't want to put up with the potion maker for another year, and I didn't want to pay a lot of money for it. Snape, with a creak and ... probably a kind of compliment, gave me the title of apprentice. However, he "cut off" my defense, or "blurred" it, saying that I still need to study for a year.

"You're not ready!" he told me. Illidan khrenov.

He, of course, knows better, and I already, like, and not really need to. I did not inform you about my refusal to study. Our contract expires in the fall, and then we'll talk.

I decided not to postpone the payment of tuition at Hogwarts for a long time. By law, I am of legal age and can enter into contracts and pay my own bills. However, the cost of training was greatly inflated and amounted to ten thousand galleons for one year of training. I didn't have that kind of money in my Gringotts account. A trip to Switzerland was coming up.

The portal to Switzerland cost two hundred and twenty galleons, while the portal to France is only thirty-six, and already from the French Ministry of Magic to Switzerland another forty. One long portal is more expensive than two shorter ones.

However, despite the speed of the magical movements, the business at the bank and the rest of the mess promised to take all day. Therefore, I specially allocated a convenient time for myself, planned, so to speak, a trip. I also warned Fleur by writing a letter that I would be passing through France, and if there was time, I could meet her.

I got to Switzerland without delay. At the Guild Bank, I withdrew all the money from my old account. I converted one thousand four hundred marks into goblin currency, and deposited the remainder in a newly opened personal account. Now all I had to do was pay the ministry bill for Hogwarts at the British branch of Gringotts.

Unfortunately, Fleur couldn't find the time to meet. So on the way back, I just wandered around the various tourist spots of Paris for a couple of hours. Nothing interesting happened, so I decided to return to Albion.

***

One of the most common moments of any popadanets in the world of Harry Potter, this is a bet on the result of the final match of the Quidditch World Championship. Somehow, I did not stand out in this. In general, there was an idea to put as much as possible on the result. As it turned out, it didn't make much sense to increase the bid after a certain amount. The higher the bet, the more the coefficient fell. After betting twenty thousand galleons at odds of one to four on Ireland winning, but the snitch catching Krum, raising the bet gave a meager gain in winnings. As a result, with a bet of a million galleons, the winnings will be slightly less than a hundred thousand.

In general, it turned out that the result known to me is quite well predicted. Ireland's team is objectively stronger, and only Cram reached the final for Bulgaria. There were other wizards who bet on the same result as me.

I chatted with the goblin for more than an hour, figuring out all the nuances, and in the end I put twenty thousand on a known result. I'm supposed to get eighty thousand dollars on my winnings, twenty thousand of which is a refund of my bet.

After paying for my six-year tuition at Hogwarts, I decided to finish my chores for the day. Why such a strange deadline? Well, I wasn't going to stay in school after the Triwizard Tournament. In general, by that time, the events will begin to unfold very disturbing. I need to be free of school by then, to avoid being seen by Dumbledore, to act on my own.

I was about to leave when a bank employee stopped me.

"Mr. Blair," the goblin said to me at the end of the conversation. — Our bank has a business proposition for you.

— Which I can't refuse?" I joked.

"You can refuse," said the goblin, whose name I didn't even find out, " especially since the proposed case is dangerous. But the payment is also great.

"Interesting," I said thoughtfully. — What do you want to offer?

"We can discuss the details of the case and the payment in Master Kraik's private office," Goblin said.

"Master Kraik?" I asked, as if tasting the name.

"Yes," said the goblin. — We've been told to make you this special offer as soon as you show up at the bank." The case, as I said, is quite dangerous, but it is you who will most likely be able to cope. Talk to the master about the details.

The goblin led me to an office, not the one I'd been in before, but a different one. Nevertheless, everything in this office was identical to the previous one, the other one. The details were different, but the overall mood, spirit, and color scheme was similar. An old goblin was already sitting at the table, all gray and wrinkled, about to blow and fall apart. I went into the office and sat down across from the goblin.

— Allow me to introduce myself, Mr. Blair, came with the appeal of the Goblin. — I am Master Kraik, a specialist in the bank's sensitive affairs. I want to warn you right away that I have nothing to do with the decision of the director of the British branch on your family in the past. I then held another position and in general, was against the removal of debtors. You may think me too greedy, but my position is that as long as there is a chance to take payment from the debtor, you can not kill him. Now, as for the case — "the goblin went on to the main point," it's simple. We want to hire you to charge the debtor a fee.

— I never knew my grandparents, who were killed by your collectors, " I began to say, feeling anger rising in me. — But I don't like your case any more."

"Don't be in a hurry to say no, Mr. Blair," the goblin said calmly. — It is one thing when the situation concerns people and the debt can be taken in a year, five, ten, when the debtor will have funds. It is quite another matter if the debtor has money, but he refuses to pay. The goblin was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "A contract expired about ten years ago," the goblin said. — We have leased an enchanted blade and two living stones.

The goblin's words interested me, because I needed just such stones. Worse was the fact that the Goblin noticed my interest. I may have pulled myself up in occlumency, but not enough, obviously. "Goblin weapons are a source of pride and honor for our people," the goblin continued. — We are willing to make great sacrifices to get this weapon back. Previously, we rented out our legendary weapons, and sold only ordinary samples, unremarkable. It also happened that the weapon became legendary after being sold, as was the case with the Gryffindor sword. But now we are talking about the legendary weapon, which was originally sold for rent for a period of one hundred years.

— I'd like to know the more pressing details of this case, " I interrupted the goblin. — Who did you sell your sword to?" What is the size of the living stones? Why did the customer refuse to pay? Why does the bank turn to me with its problems? Well, and talk about payment.

"We leased the sword to Maximilian Sheldon," Kraik said. "He's a vampire.

"Wow," I said, interrupting the goblin again. "Vampires are very dangerous, even for wizards.

"I know," the goblin pressed, clearly annoyed that I was interrupting him. — We've hired wizards to deal with this problem. A full-fledged star of magicians from the top ten and four werewolves attached to the reinforcement. No one came back.

Now the goblin paused, waiting for me to say something again. I didn't disappoint him.

— So you think that where qualified mercenaries failed to cope, I, a minor magician with a lack of training, will be able to cope?

"No need for false modesty, Mr. Blair," the goblin smiled. — We know that you have recently become a master of enchantment, which makes you fully capable, by the standards of the Ministry, you are an adult magician. In addition, the magic that is inside you is capable of incredible things when you need to destroy something. Where a strong, experienced team has failed, there is still a chance for the army or for a talented loner. We can't involve the army, it would be a violation of the contract with the magicians and a violation of the statute of secrecy. There remains the option of a loner.

"It's still very dangerous," I said. — The essence of your arguments does not change in any way.

"It's dangerous," Kraik agreed — " but the potential payoff is great. Those two living stones will be yours, and what else will you find there? Old vampires can be very rich.

— So I'm going to be allowed to dig around in a vampire's house?".. I said doubtfully. "This Maximilian, how old is he?"

"It's an old vampire," Kraik grunted, almost choking out the words. "Old, but not ancient. It's about seventeen hundred years old, a little less, to be precise. At the present time, the ancient vampires of the pre-Christian era are considered to be ancient.

Now Sheldon is in opposition to several vampire clans. He himself supports the Masquerade-it's something like the statute of secrecy among magicians, only for vampires. But Maximilian also supports several Shabbat gangs. The Sabbath is a loose band of vampire renegades. The clan elders who make up the official government of the Camarilla vampires fear that Maximilian Sheldon may gain authority among the renegades and create some kind of vampire apocalypse, so they will not defend or support him. They would all be relieved if Sheldon was put to rest.

— What powers does this vampire have?" I asked.

He had an experienced assistant, "the goblin said —" but he disappeared. It's been five years since anyone saw him. He may or may not be at rest. Sheldon has a small estate on the border between West Yorkshire and Lancashire County. Some vampires like private places. There he has a large house in which there are about forty to fifty vampires. There are no old ones, except for the already mentioned helper. All of his servants are under a hundred years old.

"It's still too strong," I said. "It's too dangerous.

"Vampires are very proud of themselves," the goblin tried to make more arguments. — If you come alone, then he will be interested…

— What kind of idiot came to see him?"

"No," said the goblin. — He will be interested in your motive and your powers. They, the older vampires, consider themselves the top of the food pyramid, the crown of creation. Even young bloodsuckers are prone to arrogance and arrogance. Comparing themselves with ordinary people, they inevitably come to the conclusion that they are superior in everything. It's part of their curse, if you will. If you consider vampirism a disease, then you can call this trait of vampires one of the symptoms.

— So if I kill a few of his chicks — "I began to speculate," when he finds out that I'm alone, he won't run away or set his whole pack on me, but will decide to kill me himself?

"

— All the same, I'm afraid.

"Let's do this," the goblin grimaced. — You will receive from us all the information we can gather about this vampire, and if you do, you will return this vampire's sword to us." To do or not to do the job, decide for yourself. After the failure of the mercenaries, no one wants to take this order. I think that it will hang for five years, if not more.

We came to an agreement on this. I took out a contract for a vampire with a free date.

After leaving Gringotts, I decided to eat at a cafe. Taking the newspaper in my hands, I had to buy it, although I have a subscription, delivery does not always happen on time and to the place, I sat down at a table with a good view of the street. Having made an order, I began to read the Prophet until I came to another article about Sirius Black.

As it turned out, the ministry decided to pay the sufferer compensation for a miscarriage of justice. The case is truly unprecedented, so the amount of compensation was not normalized in any way. As wizards usually did in such cases, they turned to Muggle law. According to Muggle law, the amount of compensation for moral damage can not exceed five hundred thousand pounds. In addition, Sirius Black was offered a free check-up at Mungo, followed by treatment at reduced rates, if necessary. Sirius Black refused to be examined and treated.

Five hundred thousand pounds is a hundred thousand galleons, a huge sum for many wizards, but not at all comparable to what Sirius had to experience in Azkaban. I wouldn't want to go to this prison with dementors even if they gave me a million galleons, even though I don't get hurt by dementors, as it turns out.

When I got home, I started thinking about the vampire case. Of course, I knew it was dangerous, but I couldn't help but think. My thoughts kept returning to the familiar topic. To distract myself, I decided to start producing artifacts. I had the skins of a basilisk and its fangs. Skins can be used to make armor and robes, and fangs can be used to make daggers.

I had to buy some additional materials. For high-quality artifacts, metals and dragon skin were needed. In addition, it was necessary to replenish the stock of consumables, some potions and ingredients.

Having purchased everything necessary through orders, I was ready to start the act of creation, when I was interrupted by a knock on the window. I let the owl in and took the letter from its paw.

"We need to meet.

Today, at 5: 00 PM, at Grimmauld Place.

Sirius Black."

I wrote "I will" on his message, and sent it with his owl, which was waiting for an answer.

I arrived at the meeting place in advance, as was my usual habit. What was my surprise when I saw that Sirius was already walking around the square. Usually, aristocrats like to show punctuality.

"Hi," a relative greeted me. - Let's not talk on the street, let's go to my house.

When I returned the same vague greeting and agreed to follow him, Sirius took my hand and said softly, " Grimmo 12."

Then he led me into a house that appeared out of nowhere.

I've made so many plans to gain access to this house. I asked for blood, became friends with Potter, made contact with Dumbledore, and everything turned out to be easier.

A troll's foot is like an umbrella urn, I don't know what this thing is actually called. Everything is in dark colors, but with taste. In some places, the dust is not removed and in general, there is no sense of habitable space. This place was like a haunted house. There must be boggarts here.

"I've brought some hungry people into the house again," the portrait in the hallway yelled. — You're a fucking traitor. You're not my son.

"Is that Walburga?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes," said Sirius. "The portrait is attached to the wall by a permanent bonding spell. I don't want to spoil the portrait or the wall, so I decided to just use the curtains. When it is curtained, it simply sleeps. But Critcher, the house-keeper, is constantly pulling back the curtains and wiping the portrait frame.

"A wretched scion of the noble house of Black, — I heard the brownie mutter.

"Don't stop us from talking, Critcher," Sirius said to the Brownie. — You'd better go clean the rooms."

— Do you live here alone?" I asked, to keep the conversation going.

"I'm alone most of the time," Black said, " but it's Hogwarts on vacation, and Henrietta Potter has moved here. It's more fun for me, and she doesn't have to live with her hated relatives.

"She went to Diagon Alley with the Weasleys today," Black said apologetically. — They won't be here until tomorrow, and they'll be spending the night at the Weasleys'." Also, the director and Remus came in once. And so-yes, I live here alone.

While we talked, we went into a more or less habitable room, where we sat comfortably in chairs. The relative had already eaten a little, but still looked sickly. He poured himself a two-finger glass of something and prepared to speak.

"We can skip the weather and stock market reports," I said, smiling at Sirius.

"Yes, I don't think we should delay it," Sirius agreed. - Let's talk about the main thing. I'm not going to take the gens, so I can't help you with the introduction to the gens, "Sirius poured the" news " on me like a tub of water.

"Understand, Father," I said, trying to sound reasonable, hoping that Sirius could be made to change his mind. And he used the word "father" deliberately.

"Don't call me Father," Black protested. — We barely know each other." Your mother, Iris, made her own decision about you, and the responsibility lies with her. I only found out about your existence recently. Just call me Sirius.

"So," Sirius continued, — you can try to join the bloodline yourself, after all, you are a carrier of bloodline blood and magic can accept you. But know that it is dangerous. I am against such risks, although I will not prevent you. As for the inheritance, I wrote a will for Henrietta Potter.

— But of course! I exclaimed.

"Wait, don't interrupt," Black snapped. — What is my personal property, I can bequeath to whomever I wish. But the property of the family can only be disposed of by the head. If you can enter the bloodline and take over the leadership, then this house and much more will be yours, if you can't, then Potter will get it all.

"You have a strange approach to this question, Sirius —" I said thoughtfully.

"I don't care about Rod," he said. — I don't care if Rod Black disappears or not. I can't recognize you as Black, even though I recognize you as my son. I can give you money.

"Money?" I asked, a little surprised.

"The ministry gave me compensation.

"Oh, yes, I read something like that," I began to remember the headline in the newspaper. "A hundred thousand galleons for the twelve years of Azkaban."

"Yes," said Sirius. "Rita Skeeter did her best.

— It would help me more if you gave me some of your blood."

"You're talking about blood again," Sirius said. — What kind of ceremony do you want to perform?"

— This isn't exactly a rite of passage, " I decided to explain. — There is a fake 'Alien Memory' potion that gives access to any other person's knowledge. So, the creator of this potion had certain magical gifts, and for him the potion was quite effective. I have the same gifts as the inventor of the potion of someone else's memory, or similar. The essence of the potion is that it creates a magical kinship based on the blood pattern. Thus, through the potion, I will gain your access to the magic of the bloodline and be able to safely spill my blood on the altar.

"And if there's a backlash," Sirius suggested, " it'll hit me, too."

— You can be drugged, — I suggested. — Either way, I'll be closer to the altar, and the kickback will go through me first.

"All right," agreed the prisoner of Azkaban. — But I'm doing this for you personally, not for Rod.

We also discussed the subject of the portrait. Sirius didn't agree to spoil it, or even just scare the stupid artifact away. I found his scrupulousness strange.

"If you decide to throw something out of the house, then warn me," I asked my father.

"The house is full of dangerous things," he told me. — I won't let the children near them.

— I'm an adult, — I said, showing off my enchantment master's ring.

Sirius just shook his head, but I could feel his pride.

I needed to prepare for the ritual, so I left Sirius. He promised to let me know when there was no one else in the house, so that I could safely perform the ritual.

Back at my Muggle guardian's house in the suburbs of London, I set about my preparations. In preparation, there was not only a potion of someone else's memory, but also preparations for creating artifacts. In addition to the dragon skin and basilisk skin, we also needed fabrics. I didn't think about it right away, but when I worked it out in detail, I realized that something should also go into the lining. I also ordered these materials.

The basilisk's teeth were placed in a special container filled with a potion that helps transfiguration. Strong magic items are very resistant to transfiguration changes, otherwise I will not be able to change the shape in this case.

I prepared patterns for robes and suits, gloves, boots, and masks. It was impossible to make mistakes, and I had no experience in such matters, so I did everything too slowly, for fear of spoiling expensive and extremely rare material. However, the experience of the ancestors helped, the work was done slowly, but everything was done without errors.

Along the way to work I was thinking about the vampire and about Potter. With a vampire, I already knew I was going to climb. Dangerous. It is very dangerous. But I'll climb. I wanted the living stones too badly. At the Christmas cup, I dueled with the European champion on equal terms, I know the defensive charms at the master level, I know how to use the acceleration charms, all this gave me a good chance of success, so I thought.

As for Potter, it's not easy. The fact is that Dumbledore actually believed in the prophecy. Initially, he did not want to take Trelawney to work at Hogwarts. There were rumors that she was a charlatan. Therefore, the place for the interview was chosen so strange and in general, the whole situation gives a touch of staged negligence. But Dumbledore saw in all this the beginning of a prophecy, that is, it began to come true at the very moment of utterance.

How many times have I reviewed my decisions in the light of the new data that opens up, and how many times will I review them again…

I didn't want to go against the prophecy. Horcruxes must be destroyed by Potter. According to the canonical course of events, Dumbledore will try to destroy one of the horcruxes himself, wanting to get the rebirth stone or help Potter, I don't know, and will fall under a very nasty curse. It was possible that all these slow curses wouldn't do me any serious harm, but I didn't want to check. Prophecy is serious.

In a digression, I can say that Trelawny made herself look plain, having a rather attractive appearance. Obvious signs of using the aging potion, warts and pimples that constantly change their location from day to day. I would not pay attention to all these subtleties, because it is not very pleasant to look at a pimply old woman, once you look and enough. But all these subtleties were noted by Dumbledore, which, after reviewing the headmaster's memory, made me re-examine the divination teacher more carefully. This is not even Emma Thompson in her youth, but Cate Blanchett, or even something even more attractive, it is difficult to determine under the disguise. Sometimes her hidden feminine nature would come out from under the disguise, then her gait for a couple of steps would be unexpected for the image being played out, then her look was so special. But these misunderstandings have nothing to do with the essence of the matter. The woman is encrypted and filled with alcohol, so she needs it. Maybe she's leading a double life, and when everyone thinks she's locked herself in her tower drunk, she's actually doing something else?

I had drunk the potion with Sirius ' blood beforehand. As I have already seen, the effect of the potion accumulated, or rather "spun to full speed", over time. Just one move is enough, and the effect never subsides, only gaining strength. To get rid of the effect, you need to take a potion with the blood of another individual, then the effect will begin to "unwind" on the other. And for the effect to fall to zero, you need to take this potion with your blood.

The invitation from Sirius didn't arrive until two weeks later. I had to hurry to go to Grimmo 12.

From the doorway I was met again by the grumbling of the brownie, and then by the screams of the portrait of Walburga. Unlike Sirius, I was not going to tolerate a potentially dangerous house-elf who showed signs of disloyalty and self-will, and I would get rid of the portrait by making an ordinary copy without magic. It seems that the memory will be preserved, and there will be no harm from her screams. Yes, I thought that the portrait is harmful to the reputation, image, the general situation in the house. These screams were very annoying. But as long as I'm not the head, I'll put up with it.

"There won't be anyone in the house until tonight," Sirius told me. "I hope you'll manage in time."

— I'll have a couple of hours to spare, " I said, making it clear that it wouldn't take long.

In fact, ten minutes should have been enough, but I didn't know what would happen.

Black walked me down to the basement and handed me a container of some oily liquid and a flint.

"It's for lighting," Sirius explained about the jar of liquid. — Come on lad, good luck and don't die there, he gave the final instructions.

When I went down, the protection only wavered, letting me pass. My magic trail has been verified and access granted.

This part of the basement was completely separated from the rest of the house. Moreover, it was the basement, and not the ground floor, which could often be considered the first. The stairs took me even deeper than the level of a normal basement. Going into the room, I lit the usual oil lamps without a single bit of magic. I didn't use the mirror, I had my own petrol lighter.

The room was quite spacious, but only for one person, if you fill it with twenty people, it will be really crowded. Although, if you arrange the people along the walls in three straight rows, you can fit thirty people, and there will still be enough space in the center for the person conducting the ritual. In the center was a low pedestal with a rod stone, which was the altar itself. In the flickering light of the lamps, it looked completely black.

There was no point in procrastinating, so I just walked up to the altar, preparing to offer my blood as a... sacrifice?.. No, rather, to bring your blood into the magic of the bloodline.

I cut my palm with the knife I had prepared beforehand and sprinkled it on the stone. Nothing happened, no power waves and raging streams of magic, no flashes or sound effects. Darkness and silence. Only the feeling of anxiety that had accompanied me all day began to pass.

With a sigh, I was about to leave, realizing that I could not wait for any external effects, when suddenly I felt dizzy. No, no, there were no external bright effects, but there were "phantom" pains in the body. This is how I perceived the magic that came to me through the rod stone. Energy? Power? Power? No. Curses!

It was painful, but not so much to the darkening of the eyes and not so long, it is quite possible to endure. Next, the obscurus entered the game hastily removing all unpleasant sensations and their consequences, if there were any. In five minutes I was ready to go out.

"Everything?" Sirius asked me as I went upstairs.

Actually, Sirius was better than I thought. It seemed to me that he would prevent me from taking birth. After he wrote a will for Henrietta that didn't give me anything, it would have been logical to move with all sorts of obstacles on the way to becoming Black. However, my assessment was not entirely accurate. Sirius didn't care about Rod, and he didn't care about rod's material values either. I, as his descendant, he perceived positively, but he was afraid of responsibility, like fire. Perhaps, if I were a small child, he would be able to pull himself together and take responsibility, but not now, when care on the one hand is no longer required, and on the other, a more serious participation in the structure of the life of the descendant is needed. He and Potter in his time so willingly and easily handed over to Hagrid because he was afraid to be responsible for the child. Now, having written a will for Potter, he has shown the necessary care, as his godfather status and magic require.

"Yes, I'm fine," I said, overcoming the weakness in my legs that had come with the ritual.

"You don't look well," Black commented on my condition.

"Rod accepted me," I said, showing Sirius my palm, the cut on which had already healed, leaving only a small strip of pink, fresh scar. It will take a little time and the cut will become completely indistinguishable. — I didn't feel the backlash as such, but the magic of the bloodline carries the ancestral curses, and the altar itself was severely devastated. The protection of the house consumes a lot of power, the natural source, if it has not yet dried up, on which the altar stands, is not enough.

"You took the curses?" Black asked. — I thought you were going to perform some special ritual, that the curses would hit me." After all, I already wear them, they will not hurt me more than they already are, only the first time will be bad.

"I'm not afraid of ancestral curses," I said. — The ritual was conducted in the simplest way, without making oaths or promises. Now I'm first in the line of succession, right after you. There's no way Draco Malfoy and Henrietta Potter are going to be able to adopt a family that bypasses me.

— Why don't you tell me why the ancestral curses don't hurt you?" Sirius asked, pretending to be interested for nothing, by the way.

"I guess you can tell now," I said, smiling. "I'm Black now, just like you." I have an obscurus in me. He devours all curses, does not allow the "competitors" to turn around. At the same time, its activity stimulates the development of my magic in the field of darkness and fire.

— Are you still alive?" How?! Sirius asked, surprised.

"It's hard to say," I said, feigning sadness. — My magic was suppressed unintentionally. The obscurus was formed in an atypical way, and when it was ready to manifest itself, there was a childish magic release. Thus, I became the owner of perhaps the strangest obscura. I can control it.

— Does anyone else know?" Sirius asked. I could feel the fear in my relative, but it was impossible to make out what kind of fear it was. It could be fear for my life, or fear of obscura, fear for those who are near me.

"Dumbledore knows," I reassured Sirius. — I think he's seen something like this before." And yes, please, don't tell anyone else that I'm Black now. Even the director is not concerned.

Sirius shook his head, accepting the answer, but not agreeing with everything.

We talked some more while I was recovering from the consequences of being adopted. Although Sirius didn't care about Rod, judging by his words and decisions, he was a little warmer in the conversation. Pure-blooded wizards have their own upbringing, which is not something you can just get rid of.

***

When I got home, I started working on the artifacts. Gradually changing the shape of the basilisk teeth and adding different useful qualities. With the help of these knives, according to my idea, it would be possible to conjure. There was no need to drill anything, the natural channel for the passage of the poison was perfectly suitable for the filler. Fillers were not suitable for everyone. The knife I made for Potter required an unconventional approach. Not that I made my own completely ordinary, but knowing that the filler for the Potter wand is a phoenix feather, the task was not easy.

By themselves, these two magical beasts, the basilisk and the phoenix, are irreconcilable enemies. However, this does not mean that it is impossible to combine the components from their body parts in one artifact. I had to play around with the phoenix feathers, composing a special potion formula for the magic filler.

Once my guardian came to see me, to check on what I was doing. Fortunately, I did not do anything magical at that time, but wrote letters to friends and acquaintances, trying not to deprive anyone of attention. But the unexpected visit reminded me of caution. I had to buy a student's chest on Diagon Alley to expand the space and maintain the internal atmosphere, in order to organize my own workshop inside it. In addition, I took care of the warning charms to get a small head start, enough to have time to get out of the chest. My own suitcase with a multi-room space inside has remained a dream for me for the future.

I made the costumes with the robes and daggers in time. I stuffed my clothes as much as possible, everything as it should be: the spell of fitting, heating, protection from water, protection from fire, maintaining the atmosphere in the mask, additionally a head bubble, protection from small and weakened curses, a chameleon spell. The lining for the mantle was made of acromantula silk. For the details of the costume adjacent to the body, I used fabrics made of unicorn wool. Metal inserts have become an addition for physical protection and the basis for runic amulets. Aside from the incredibly epic materials, and a huge amount of enchantment, the suit's enchantment was at an average level of difficulty, except for the binding and self-healing enchantments.

I tied my suit and dagger immediately, with blood. To link her costume to Potter, I wrote letters to the heroine. Unexpectedly, Potter sent me a small glass vial, designed for simple potions like rowan broth, filled with blood. I wrote to her that you can't just throw your blood around, that you need to demand an oath of non-harm and first learn all the ins and outs of the use of blood, for what, for whom, how. In response to the reprimand in the letter, Potter replied simply: "Dumbledore trusts you, so I can trust you." Holy simplicity.

I didn't want to give Henrietta very valuable things without a binding. Otherwise, they could have left, for example, Ron Weasley, on the principle of "let's drive", and perhaps Dumbledore himself could have taken a fancy, although such habits were not listed for him.

The dagger after binding, I sent to Dumbledore, in order to continue the show of usefulness. I could have given it to him, but it didn't make much sense. Well, I'll show you an additional hint that I made this artifact myself and what's next? And if Dumbledore gives me the knife, then Potter will get confirmation of my cooperation with the good grandfather. The accompanying note described what kind of artifact it was.

"The knife is made from the tooth of a basilisk that was killed by Henrietta Potter. Your expertise in transfiguration and alchemy was used in the creation process. The artifact is bound. They can only be conjured by Potter herself or her direct descendants. The knife will be able to replace the sword of Gryffindor. Will this be a legendary weapon, depends on the Potter. Filled with a phoenix feather.»

The knives were beautiful. Yes, it was knives, not daggers, they were sharpened on one side. The knife guard was an underdeveloped one, made of basilisk bone. I did not invent something to protect my hand because of the possible interference with witchcraft. On the hilt went the skin, not a basilisk or a dragon, another, with good magical conductivity. Although the wand's contact with the wizard's aura is sufficient for spells, physical contact of the body is not necessary, however, I considered this decision to be more rational and correct. The blade itself was decorated with precious metals, which were thin lines of gold and silver scattered in patterns and runes all over the surface. This weapon was designed more against various evil spirits, such were the charms on it, but it is also dangerous to live.

Over time, these knives can become hoarders similar to the altars of the clan, or even acquire their own internal source of magic.

Dumbledore didn't answer the package, but I knew for a fact that Feather had delivered it to the recipient. Feza's doing great.

So, doing "crafting", sending letters and occasionally parcels, I waited for the time of the final of the Quidditch championship. My ticket to the event was purchased in advance. Clearly it's not about the box, the prices are already sky-high, but normal ordinary places for wizards with a good income I allowed myself.

Even before the match started, I managed to see many of my friends from Hogwarts. I saw Cedric, Henrietta Potter and Sirius Black, Granger and all the Weasleys, and I noticed the Malfoys. In the distance, he identified the hated Bletchley. Among the Spaniards, I met Carlos Cortez. Caught a few familiar girls from Sambacana.

Fleur didn't come to the championship. She had a lot of work to do, even though she had learned her skills a long time ago. Before the championship, I wrote to her that I hope to meet her, but she unsubscribed that she would not be able to come, assuring me that she loves me, and we will definitely meet soon. I already knew that we would meet, but the situation was beginning to annoy me, to make me think all sorts of different things.

For someone who is familiar with the canon, the ending did not stand out in anything remarkable. The Bulgarians have a vail mascot, and Ireland has a leprechaun. Ireland immediately took the lead and began to build up the advantage. The final result depended only on the duration of the game. The longer the game goes on, the greater Ireland's advantage. The game lasted long enough. When Krum caught the snitch, Ireland had a one-hundred-and-sixty-point lead. Accordingly, Ireland won by a margin of ten points.

Many wizards weren't going to leave immediately after the match, they had everything prepared for the celebration, well, or vice versa, if their team lost. There were tents all around, forming a kind of town with its own streets and traffic rules. Here is the "calle", Spain, there is the "strasse", the Germans, and where the "street" is most noisy, Ireland, and next to them the rest of the British.

I smiled a little when I overheard two young wizards talking about Ron Weasley stuffing his pockets with leprechaun gold. Probably, Draco Malfoy started this conversation in the world. I did not have to deal with it, usually each course was cooked in its own juice, with limited contact with the older course and the younger course. I had nothing to share with Malfoy, except for the Black inheritance.

It should be said that this case of stuffing pockets with leprechaun gold says a lot about Ron's mental development. Even if you don't know about leprechauns and their gold, you can tell by the reaction of others that something is wrong.

Cortez was not among the Spaniards. I was directed to the la Rue, to the French, explaining that he had gone there. The French, too, had to sway until he found Madame Maxime with girls from Sambacana. It turned out that Cortez had gone home to either France or Spain. He will be teaching in Sarbacane history of magic for the Junior courses.

When the confusion and panic, I was among French women of Sambacana. Madame Maxime, not understanding the reasons for the panic, immediately organized an evacuation. There was no reason for me to linger, either. Catching Death Eaters in a crowd like this? There are aurors for this job. Although I noticed that all the busy Arthur Weasley and Sirius Black, who was burning with excitement, rushed to the side of the greatest unrest.

"Oh, fuck it," I thought. — "Here under the guise and kill can be".

After searching the crowd for Bletchley and finding no one, I used the portal to get home as quickly as possible. I was already ready for Hogwarts, having bought almost everything by mail. Hogwarts may have become a formality for me, but it must be observed.

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