I thought that in the morning I'd be called to the headmistress or the dean of first years, who hadn't been appointed yet, but everything turned out more prosaic. They came to apologize to me. Not all of them - Delacour didn't come, only those four accomplices of his.
Why didn't I turn them all in to the teachers myself? It wouldn't have solved the problem - well, they would have been punished, they would have gotten even angrier, what's the point? Where can you go from a submarine?
"Um, hi, can we talk to you for a second?" they approached after the first lesson, which turned out to be potions. It was taught by a middle-aged woman, Italian Bettina Manichi. A quite pleasant plump woman, she conducts her lesson well, doesn't allow mischief - I can't say much more about her, no worse and no better than others.
"Wasn't that enough for you?" I asked.
"No... well, we'd like to apologize." Even I was surprised at this. "You had a duel, and we interfered, and all at once too. We just saw Jean fall and thought you did that to him."
"So you got scared for your friend. No, I just returned his own spell to him. If that's all, then apologies accepted. But if you attack again - you won't get off so easily, is that clear?"
It's probably quite amusing to watch a first-year lecture third-years.
"Yes, thank you, and sorry again."
"What about Delacour, doesn't he want to apologize?"
"No," one of them grimaced. "He even wanted to go complain, but we didn't support him in that. You could have done anything to us then, but you didn't."
"Tell your Jean that I don't want enmity, but if he comes at me - let him blame himself," I replied and left.
The guys acted badly, but at least they had enough conscience to admit their mistake.
***
[ September 15, 1971. ]
Two weeks passed, Delacour and I pretended we didn't exist for each other. That's what a life-giving night in a classroom does to a person. I suspect what scared him was precisely the helplessness of the situation, not the fact of my victory itself.
During this time I continued studying, training at night, teaching the fairy to read and write - already reaching the middle of the alphabet and also compiled a training program for myself.
My goal remained the same: to unite the Sumerian school of magic with the modern one, and for this I needed to study modern and Sumerian runes and their constructions, numerology, ritualism, and the principles of constructing wand charms.
How does the creation of wand charms actually happen? First, using a certain mathematical matrix, you need to set the parameters of the future spell: speed and color of the beam, duration, area and target of action, effect and other characteristics. Then a suitable rune is selected, which will be the basis of wand movement, and a verbal component, preferably in Latin: so you won't accidentally pronounce it, and it will be clear what you're trying to do.
Then comes the period of charm debugging, during which it's necessary to smooth out execution flaws. Often it happens that the initial rune is completely unlike the final result. But these are only basics - calculations are much more complex. That's why I was stuffing my head with theory. Hard in training - more limbs will remain whole in practice.
…
And then came the event that ended the cold war between Delacour and me. No, we didn't become friends, but at least he stopped looking at me like a wolf. I don't care, but it's unpleasant due to empathy.
"Stop, what are you doing! It hurts them!" I heard girls' voices, among which was Apolline. A small crowd gathered around a boy familiar to me - the same one who asked me to give him my fairy.
When I approached, for the first time I wanted to hit a child. He was tearing wings off chirping fairies from a cage and throwing them, writhing in pain, back.
"I do what I want! These are my fairies, my parents bought them for me!" the little pig squealed. Some were already barely restraining themselves from cursing him. Here Jean surprised me.
"Boy, put them back, okay? How about I buy them from you?" Did his brains finally fall into place? Or does he just want to show off in front of Apolline?
"No! It's their own fault for not obeying me and trying to fly away. Without wings they won't be able to do that!"
Delacour was about to draw his wand, but his friends held him back. It was also unpleasant for me to watch such a display of sadism. In general, fairy wings are a magical reagent used in potion-making, but fairies shed them themselves as they mature several times, and there's no point in killing them for this.
And here the problem isn't even that formally he's right - according to magical world legislation, a wizard can do anything with his pets. But what this sadist will grow into.
I whispered a spell quietly in Sumerian and observed in astral sight how an invisible connection linked the torturer and his new victim.
"Ahhh, it hurts so much! Ahhh, mama, mama!" When trying to tear off the fairy's wing, he suddenly fell to the floor and began shrieking like a madman from pain. And I just temporarily connected their feelings. What the fairy felt, he felt too.
Little sadists usually don't understand what pain they cause with their actions. He threw the fairy to the ground and got another portion of pain, losing consciousness. Soon teachers came and took the bastard to the hospital wing, and I approached the fairies.
…
"Can you help them?" Apolline asked me.
"I'll try," I replied.
Waving my wand, I pronounce the charm I invented "Paracelsus" and release minor healing built into one of five quartz rings. It's a pity that to replace charms I'll have to change the ring itself, but since these charms are very useful, it's worth it.
The little fairy with broken limbs and torn wing glowed, disgustingly crunched with bones setting in place, and recovered. My Pixie immediately flew to her and began chirping, whom I had been restraining before so she wouldn't fall into the sadist's hands.
Pixie - that's what I named my fairy because she constantly makes the sound "Pee." My sense of beauty wouldn't allow calling her "Peepee."
Casting charms in turn on five more injured little ones, I felt slight dizziness and sat down - Sumerian charms require more energy after all. But the effect is better too; in the medical wing they might have been able to help them, but not so quickly. If they would have agreed to help at all.
Six healed little ones flew out of the open cage along with Pixie and began flying around me, showering me with golden dust.
"You're the one who made him writhe in pain, aren't you?" Delacour approached me, but I said nothing. Too many people around. "Sorry about that time and... thanks for helping them."
"You don't seem like an animal lover," I said.
"I can be wrong, but I don't torment those who can't fight back."
"What about me?"
"Well, you fought back. I just wanted you to stay away from the girl I love."
"Alright, apologies accepted," I shook the extended hand. He surprised me - who would have thought he was hiding an animal lover inside.
"Thank you," I got in response.
***
"Hi, Arthur." As soon as I entered the room, my plump roommate René Richard addressed me. "The prefect was looking for you, asked me to tell you that the headmistress is calling you to the medical wing."
"Didn't say what they want?" I asked.
"No," he replied and added: "Listen, is it just me, or do you have more fairies?"
"It's just you," I smiled, watching the flock of rescued little ones fawning over me.
The medical wing was located in the basement of the central wing. I was met by a large, clean room with the specific smell of potions. Near one of the beds were several people, including a doctor. I thought this morning they'd call me to the headmistress - who would have thought they'd actually call me, but the reason would be different?
"I don't know what was wrong with him, Madame Maxime. The boy experienced severe pain shock, but then it suddenly stopped. Moreover, I found no injuries," the doctor of indeterminate age in round glasses replied to the giantess.
"Cruciatus?" she suggested.
"No, definitely not," he replied. "More like phantom pains."
"Is he alright?" Olympe asked.
"Yes, I gave him an anesthetic potion, so you can talk to him," the doctor said, and then he saw me. "Hello, boy, did something happen?"
"I don't know, I was told Madame Headmistress was looking for me," I replied.
"Mister Marlow, I presume?" the woman over two meters tall asked me.
"Yes. May I know why I was called?"
"Of course, we're trying to understand what happened to Mister Tortor. Witnesses claim you took his fairies and healed them, so you're the main suspect."
"So you suspect I harmed my classmate just because I healed fairies? That's rather strange."
"There simply are no other suspects. Your love for fairies is known throughout the first year, and you had a motive, which your subsequent actions confirm," she shrugged, but suddenly softened. "Don't worry, nothing terrible happened. Maybe you just had a spontaneous magical outburst? Such things happen."
Ho, does the headmistress herself want to help me? She's unlikely to be happy that some animal abuser tortured intelligent magical creatures. Especially since, physically, no one except the fairies was hurt. So she wants to deal with this case only formally, so there won't be complaints against her later.
"Yes, I felt anger!.. It came out of me by itself, I couldn't hold back..." came out in the form of a spell, yeah.
"Don't worry, little one," - she hugged me. - "There's nothing terrible about this, such things happen."
"So you won't punish him?" - the young sadist woke up. - "He's to blame for everything. And he stole my fairies!"
"Your fairies had torn wings, and mine are whole," I reminded him of his deed.
"Mine have numbers carved on their backs." - What a monster. - "Madame Maxime, look, he's a thief!"
The woman winced, but caught the fairies with charms and, examining their backs, smiled.
"These aren't your fairies, Mister Tortor, their backs are clean and without scars,"- she said to him, releasing the little ones. - "Mister Marlow, you may go. I hope you'll control yourself better in the future?"
"Of course, if no one tortures innocents," I replied with a hint that if this happens again, I won't sit still. My empathy simply won't allow it.
***
"Apolline, don't you want to tell me something?" I asked surrounded by a flock of fairies when I returned from the hospital wing.
"About what?" she was surprised.
"Why would a seemingly adequate guy suddenly go crazy with love so much that he challenges me to a duel?" I asked insinuatingly.
"He challenged you? The scoundrel, I'll show him!" Apolline replied, feigning righteous anger, but...
"Don't change the subject. Or do I need to ask Patrick again how it all was?" I asked, sitting across from her.
"No, I'll tell you everything," - she said reluctantly after a long pause. - "It happened last year. I was controlling my aura poorly then, and he accidentally fell under its influence."
"Don't lie to me. You already had my bracelet then." Lying to a mind mage and empath with true sight? Useless.
"Well fine, fine. I was practicing on him, sorry! I needed to learn to control my charms!" Yeah, and test them on someone, flatter your ego.
"Why are you apologizing to me? Apologize to Delacour now, confess your actions - he's suffering and tormented now. And you even used me as a shield." Well, now it's clear why many don't like veela. If we all "practice" like this.
"Please forgive me, I didn't mean to!" You did mean to, oh how you meant to. You just didn't want to talk about it, and from the very beginning.
"We'll talk when you resolve all problems with Jean. I didn't expect this from you," and leaving the already whimpering girl, I left.
How many times I'm convinced that an enemy can turn out to be an innocent victim, and a friend - a scoundrel, but I've never gotten used to this. Not that I'm an angel myself, but I never set up friends like this.
***
[ September 16, 1971. ]
"Arthur, why did you hurt Apolline? As her roommates say, she locked herself in her room, doesn't go to classes!" Patrick ran up to me the next day.
"You know me, I don't hurt anyone just like that. It's not my secret - if she wants, she'll tell. And even better, let her fix what she did," - I replied. - "Are you coming to training?"
"What training? Do you understand how serious everything is - she could be expelled!" he raged.
"And what do you want from me?"
"Whatever she did, forgive her. She's suffering because of you."
"She's suffering because of herself. Or did she run charms on you too?"
"So that's why you're offended at her? But charms don't work on you?" he asked me.
"Doesn't matter. Friend or not, a person must answer for their actions. So are you coming?" I suggested.
"No, somehow I'm not in the mood today," I see, he's offended then. Though before you would have decided to beat me up instead. For the first time the thought came to me, do I really know my real friends?
In the coven they basically had no choice of friends, plus I saved Patrick and he felt obligated to me, then tried to surpass me. But what's happening now? A bad sign.
***
[ October 18, 1971. ]
A month later the fairies scattered around the school grounds, and though they always greeted me, only Pixie stayed with me constantly. Which once again proves that it's not enough to just save a fairy for her to constantly be with you.
Pixie and I had already moved on to composing syllables and words. After healing the fairies, one very interesting fact was revealed. Minor healing converts mana into prana suitable for the creature, healing and improving its health overall, and the excess and unclaimed dissipates into space. But not with fairies - despite their size, they absorb everything. It seems they're semi-ethereal.
So, as an experiment, I cast minor healing on the fairy every day, which made her more vigorous and even half an inch taller.
…
"Are you going to Quidditch?" Petit asked me, though he already knew the answer.
"You know I think this game is stupid," I replied.
"I know, I know. All players except the seeker are useless, blah-blah-blah. Need to introduce time limits, blah-blah-blah. But it's at least some fun within our walls," - he said while changing.
"I'm having fun anyway," I shrugged.
"You are, yeah, you have a little pest, you won't get bored with her. Hey stop! Give back the sock!" Oh, you shouldn't have called her a little pest—she understands speech now. So chase her around the whole room.
"And I told you, learn the 'Accio' charm and you'll be happy."
"Phew, caught her!" Pixie stuck her tongue out at him and plopped onto my lap. She likes when I scratch her back between her wings.
"That's fourth year!"
"What are you going on about, year and year, if there was desire," I waved him off.
"Not everyone's such a bookworm as you."
"Rather lazy people for whom homework is already the end of the world."
Thinking a bit, I continued: "Alright, I'll go, nothing to do here anyway. I'll watch your flying on brooms. How do they not hurt their balls? I attached a bicycle seat."
"Maybe because there's nothing left to hurt?" Laughing at the simple joke, we went to the match. Actually there are softening charms, but they don't completely solve the problem.
…
There were four teams total that anyone could join. But it so happened that two of them were mixed, and the remaining two were purely male and purely female. And the latter, called Hawks and Flowers respectively, were irreconcilable enemies on the battlefield.
Conservative young men tried to prove that men are stronger, and girls the opposite - that women are no weaker. This was, you could say, a matter of principle. Moreover, because girls are lighter and therefore faster, while guys are stronger, a certain balance of power was maintained.
Today Hawks and Flowers were competing. On this warm and sunny autumn day we climbed to the stands, which were high towers with slanted tops where spectator seats were installed. There were canopies, but considering the height, they didn't help much against rain.
While two commentators, traditionally fans of one team, competed in praising their favorites and badmouthing opponents, I heard completely useless news from Petit.
"I heard that the captains of the Flowers and Hawks teams are dating, but can't do it officially because then they'd have to leave their teams, since everyone would think they're throwing games for each other."
"Just like Romeo and Juliet. Though why do I need to know this?" I asked.
"How's that? It's so interesting, the whole school is discussing it!" my thin roommate protested.
"Now I understand why most study so poorly - it's because they think about all sorts of crap," I replied.
"Why crap?"
"Because it's a useless thing, information garbage. Did this knowledge make you smarter? No. Will it be useful in life? Unlikely. These relationships only concern them, especially since only they can confirm or deny rumors. No, sometimes such knowledge is useful when you need to establish connections with this person, but not to constantly discuss it!"
"What a bore you are," Petit said sourly.
I just chuckled in response.
…
A miniature brunette, the flying instructor, came to the center of the field with a chest in her hands, which she opened, releasing the snitch - a small nimble ball with wings that seekers must catch to end the game and get 150 points.
Bludgers - self-targeting killer balls that two beaters from each team hit with bats, trying to prevent chasers from scoring the quaffle, each goal of which into one of three high-placed goals gives 10 points. And the quaffle itself, which chasers try to score into goals, bypassing the keeper.
That's why I said the other players are almost useless. The probability that when the seeker catches the snitch, the enemy team's chasers will create a difference of more than 150 points, though it exists, is extremely small. For this, teams must differ very strongly in power. I'm not even talking about the fact that without catching the snitch, the game doesn't end. Doesn't end at all.
Team captains greeted each other, and so firmly as if they wanted to break each other's hands. Since there were plenty of people around overflowing with different emotions, I had to turn off empathy, so I don't know if they're lovers or not, and I don't care.
By the way, a good place for empathy training. But my control still wasn't enough, and I almost got lost in others' emotions, so I had to stop torturing myself.
Then I tried catching balls with telekinesis. And I succeeded! I thought they were protected from outside interference. So I started having fun, preventing anyone from scoring a single goal. The quaffle would miss by literally a centimeter and bounce off the goals. A bludger would fly the wrong way. The snitch would suddenly dodge right from under hands with broken movements.
They even stopped the game for inspection, but found nothing, heh-heh. I tormented them like this until evening, until I finally let the Flowers catch the snitch - you should yield to girls.
The match ended up looking like a comedy film where nothing works out for anyone. Though the players, already completely exhausted, would hardly agree with this.
"You were right, Petit. That was an amusing match," I said with a smile as we returned to our room.
"What amusing? That was a terrible match! Not a single goal!" he protested.
"Exactly, Petit, exactly!"
***
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Thank you for the help with the power stones!!!