Chapter 137

There was a thought in my head that Ron would try to do something with my things, but a surprise awaits him - I carry all the junk in my bag, and the bag is enchanted with electric shock using simple runes with sewing and blood ...

An explosion of laughter in the common room distracted me from my thoughts and forced me to look where everyone else was looking - a disheveled Ron with tousled hair and magical sparks between his hair literally fell out the door of the men's wing. He was shaking with each shock, his eyes popping out of his head.

Amid the laughter of the students, limping to the twins, Ron declared quite loudly for everyone to hear:

"Well, surely, son of Death Eaters ... damn snake ... Only a Slytherin could enchant his things ... from an honest Gryffindor ..."

The twins took their stupid brother to the hospital wing because the electric shocks did not stop but did not spread to others. Interesting magic, and in fact, it is set to the minimum. And by the way, what I do not understand is the reasons for the ministerial ban on the use of blood in runes - only in this way, they become extremely durable, sensitive to the owner, and very quickly restore magic in themselves. I mean, okay, Hogwarts - here, the natural background magic is very strong, and a bunch of wizards constantly conjure, charging any rune chains very quickly. But in the normal world, blood in the runes would be extremely useful. Ah, the bureaucrats, what can you take from them? I mean, blood magic itself is banned from use without a license and participation in some guilds, but blood and runes are banned altogether.

"It seems to me," a thoughtful Hermione looked at me as she sat beside me. "That you know the reasons for Ron's condition."

"I enchanted the bag for protection."

"So he was going through your bag?"

"Apparently."

"Why? For revenge? Merlin... It's so petty it's disgusting."

"I can't help it. That's just the way Ron is."

"I don't want to mess things up in my own House."

"I don't really care."

***

After the incident in the common room, Ron and Harry stopped watching me, though it was more likely that they'd learned that day why Black had suddenly called me the "Death Eater's son. But in any case, Hermione and I spent the remaining days before I left, practicing spells from the usual allowed books.

The farewell feast and departure went smoothly, as did the trip itself. It was only now that I realized what a wild contrast a crowd of teenagers in modern clothes can cause, along with the same teenagers but in robes and old-fashioned costumes. At the same time, this whole crowd sits on a train from the first half of the twentieth century, and all this takes place against the backdrop of a medieval village and a castle on a cliff by the lake. What a contrast! Hermione and I were part of it - all black for me, and black bottom, white top for Hermione. The classics wouldn't die even if they weren't blouses and jackets but simple thin turtlenecks.

Quickly finding a vacant compartment and laying out our things, we immediately locked ourselves in several different charms, remembering the last trip when Parvati and Lavender took Hermione away and pestered her for a couple of hours with questions. What have we been doing all this time? We trained a spell that itself manifested on paper a clearly structured text from the head. The paper, the ink, and a very clear representation of the text in our heads were enough. Neither Hermione nor I found this last requirement difficult, so we briefly summarized what we had read from the Restricted Section and quoted only sentences that were too abstract or simply incomprehensible to explain in simple words. In the end, when we arrived in London, we wrote out almost my entire stock of thick workbooks and a couple of notebooks. Hermione had more quotations in her text, but not because she didn't understand, but because she didn't have enough time to process the information she'd memorized. Because of my hemomancy, rituals, and Rowena's help, I excelled at data analysis.