Chapter 87.1 Headmaster (Part 1)

Apparating — yes, yes, I learned this "technique" myself, after almost understanding the essence of this way of moving, it took me a few more moves to figure it out and learn it myself. It's quite energy consuming, especially since a lot of energy goes into creating a protective cocoon, especially since I make it a little stronger for more comfort.

Still, a few seconds in a wild washer isn't something you'd put your heart and soul into. The apparatus seriously saves time, though, because a few hours on a train one way is wasting an entire day just for one conversation. And today I have a meeting with an architect and a deal to buy the land next to the potion shop where I'll put the workshop. I don't want to spend too much time on the road, but I'd rather be patient.

At the gates of the Magic School, I was met by the local headmaster, Argus Filch, who turned out to be an exact copy of the image from the movie. A frowning, elderly man in a cloak, with long, gray, sparse hair and a very disgruntled, slightly stooped face.

I had nothing to say to this man, so after the greeting we were silent the whole way. As for the castle itself, I can say that I didn't notice anything very "magical" in its appearance, no matter how much I looked at it.

In magical terms, of course, the differences are much more noticeable: in terms of feeling, Hogwarts resembles a huge, lurking spider on a delicate, voluminous web. Magic has literally saturated the area with various spells, charms, barriers, and other inactive (dormant), semi-active, and active magic.

And a powerful source of magic fed it all. The inside of the castle was much more saturated with magic, old spells and enchantments like orchid roots sprouting through every brick, pulsing with life.

On the other side, I saw old age, or aging, whichever you prefer. Here and there were cracks, whole lines and areas of broken connections, where many functions had either ceased altogether or were severely diminished in their effectiveness.

Looking "down", i.e. right under my feet, and not being disturbed by the mystical look of the stone, I could see that somewhere at the base of the castle, where the enchantments "grow", there were as many cracks as in the living area.

But what struck me the most was the sight of a "bleeding artery" that had ruptured somewhere at the level of the first underground floor. It was a very unpleasant sight — a mighty artery oozing magic, trembling and contracting as if in pain. It even made me shudder.

I couldn't see much in the depths of it now that I was just passing through, but I think I'll be able to study it during my studies. The entrance to the headmaster's office seemed to be open, and the spiral staircase wasn't that long. A polite knock on the heavy bronze-plated wooden door, a push, and I stepped inside.

The office, the massive desk, the headmaster himself — all in all, an ensemble of a mage-scientist's office. Large, organically built in bookshelves and shelves for various things, a few powerful racks for some devices and artifacts, a few separate tables with artifacts making a soft, background noise.

Some artifacts not only made noise, but also created other effects, such as smoke, soap puffs, periodic sparks, or other lighting. About the airborne potions, I will say that there are none at the moment, and the fumes are illusions.

I'd like to mention that I had a difficult conversation with Baa-san after the poisoning of Ternier. I relied on her, she taught me about plants and potions, and our connection with her had begun the process of rebuilding my aura into a new superstructure, a gift related to potions, potions, poisons, plant care, and the movement of life.

I don't know yet what exactly the gift will be. However, I think many people will agree that getting another ancestral gift is awesome, and for the sake of such a thing, one can be patient.

I agree. The thing is, I've always taken my bouquet of gifts for granted, but my travels have opened my eyes to a lot of things. The gifts, for one. It is a great value that many wizards and mages of the world chase after, and for which the Gifted are willing to endure and go to great lengths. Every ancient magical family has a gift that sets them apart from the rest.

A gifted potionist will never get sick, will always be able to earn caviar with the best champagne, and will be able to defend themselves or cure themselves of a quarter of all curses. Not enough?

I don't think so. Very old families, such as the Le Claire family of hereditary wizards of the Light, or the dark English wizards of the Black, have two Hallows, which automatically elevates them to the ducal level compared to Muggles. I see now why the portrait of Walburga Black was so boastful of her roots?

With their dark focus on ritualism and combat, they were on the level of the legendary Peverel and Slytherin families, once the equals of the Pendragon family. A royal one at that!