Lily watched with longing as Severus walked away with another slu— No, she wouldn't let herself think such words, not even in her mind. After all, she was a well-bred girl and an excellent student, unlike certain childhood friends who had abandoned her.
Yes, she was convinced it was all his fault — what would it have cost him not to side with that Marlow? So what if she hadn't defended Severus from her classmates' attacks — she was a girl, after all, and shouldn't interfere in boys' affairs.
Besides, whenever they drew their wands, she always broke them up, so the complaints against her were incomprehensible.
Lily expected that, as always, Snape would admit his guilt, apologize, and in a few days she would, with feigned reluctance, forgive him. It had always been that way. But not this time. The boy had dressed up, improved his appearance, gotten a haircut, and suddenly become genuinely attractive. Lily even began to think she might forgive him immediately.
But… he stopped paying attention to her, stopped looking at her with those puppy-dog eyes when he thought she wasn't watching. Quite unexpectedly, Lily found herself consumed by resentment and jealousy, which not only didn't help them reconcile, but built an insurmountable wall between them — one she refused to break down, convinced he should be the one to apologize.
But he didn't, and Lily, having read her mother's books and girls' magazines, decided to provoke Severus's jealousy in return.
But how? Her gaze fell on the four bullies who tormented him. There was the answer — how to infuriate him and make him jealous. But who to choose? Sirius was a womanizer, Potter wouldn't understand and would be hard to get rid of, Pettigrew was ugly as sin, and Lupin… The quiet, smart, simple guy would be the best option. Especially since lately he had become more confident and didn't look like he hadn't slept for nights.
"Remus," she approached the boy sitting alone in the common room, bent over his homework. "Could you help me with my assignment?"
"But you're a better student than I am, Lily," Lupin looked up, surprised.
"Well… I'm having trouble with this particular one," she said, sitting down beside him, thinking to herself how thick boys could be about hints. At the same time, she noticed that despite his thinness, Remus was wiry and strong. "Will you help me?"
"Of course," Lupin nodded, and began explaining to her the most romantic thing in the world: the process of dissecting flobberworms.
Lily would still have to learn that it was she who would have to pursue Lupin, and that she'd have to work through the boy's thick-headedness — and in the process, discover sides of him she'd never noticed before. But all that would come much later.
***
It wasn't enough just to free the girls. They needed a roof over their heads, food, healing — both physical and mental — and magical education. Fortunately, Arthur had anticipated this and prepared as much as possible with his students, elves, and Hal.
Without overthinking it, using the matrix copying method, he duplicated Veillon and transferred it to the beach area. Like fire children, veela felt comfortable in the heat, but not so much in the cold, and the sun, sea, and sand would help them recover faster.
There were no problems with food thanks to materialization magic. Arthur didn't want to arouse suspicion with large food purchases, and he didn't want to bother with logistics. Besides, without true sight, you couldn't distinguish materialized food from the real thing, and it tasted the same. He suspected the Sumerians had just gotten spoiled.
But with magic, there was a problem at first — which was why the veela had only been freed now. After all, staying here for years to teach them, or leaving everything to Hal, was undesirable. But it was Hal who found the solution. Magic could copy, delete, change, block, and create memories. What stopped you from creating a memory in simulation and inserting it into the brain?
Well, first, resistance. Second, the brain's bandwidth — too much information could cause a stroke. Third, assimilability — everyone is different and needs their own approach. That's where the modernized diadems with magocogitators came in.
How did it all work? Hal created a universal memory where, in Marlow's image, he explained or taught spells, runes, ritualism, and more, then uploaded it to the mind spirit in the magocogitator. That, using the owner's matrix, adjusted the memory, adding subjective sensations, dialogues, and questions the mage might ask. With the mage's permission, it then implanted the memory and created associative chains.
Thanks to the diadem's properties, the process was smooth, gentle, and much faster than without it. For safety, as soon as scanning charms detected brain strain, minor healing and clear mind charms were applied. For maximum effect, it was best if they also drank vitamins and absorption potions, like upperclassmen did. So the veela were sent not to a bare field, but to a prepared settlement.
"Ladies," after Arthur had erased all traces, he appeared in the same place where he'd sent the girls. They had already begun to disperse and explore the empty houses.
"Before we begin healing you from various diseases and injuries, I want to explain why I freed you. I need loyal people, and there's generously paid work for everyone: creating artifacts, growing plants, caring for magical creatures, and even, if you wish, acting as fighters. I don't discriminate by gender or species. But you won't return to your former occupation here — I don't need prostitutes, I already have a fiancée."
"What a shame," one of the girls shouted, and the others laughed.
"To each their own," he replied, unfazed. "But that doesn't mean I'm keeping you as slaves. If you don't want to work for me, you sign a non-disclosure contract, I change your appearance, give you a thousand galleons as startup money, and send you anywhere — even to France, where you can easily get refugee status, or wherever you wish."
"Why such generosity?" asked the same veela who had threatened him before.
"Because I don't need veela who harbor anger, irritation, or dissatisfaction toward me. I need people — preferably vassals. I ask a lot, but I give a lot too. Think about it, you have time. Now, please approach the pedestal." In the center of the square stood a sphere of pure crystal, inscribed with runes. Marlow approached, placed his hand on it, and was enveloped in a cloud of light. "This sphere applies medium healing and clear mind. Come one at a time, place your hand and channel mana."
Ida approached first. Arthur could see, even without charms, that her astral body was contaminated with negative emotions, old injuries, and venereal diseases — not all of which modern magic could cure, and at great cost. She placed her hand, was enveloped in light, and immediately looked ten years younger.
Wrinkles and bags under her eyes vanished, her skin smoothed. What's fifty years for a veela? Now she looked her age. Arthur was glad she went first — the effect was most obvious on her. The sphere could have worked without this, but it's best not to get used to good things. The initial impulse was still needed.
"This is amazing, I haven't felt this good since I was twenty," Ida said in shock.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Next!" he called, and one by one, sometimes two at a time, the girls approached and healed themselves. Even the one who'd looked at him like a wolf thawed. Words are one thing, but real actions are another. He could have chosen not to heal those who refused to follow him.
"Sebastian, Florentina."
"Yes, master?" the elves appeared before Arthur.
"It's not right for girls to walk barefoot and in nightgowns. Transfigure them some clothes."
"It will be done, master." With a snap of their fingers, the elves replaced everyone's clothing with more comfortable outfits, never repeating themselves once.
"Thank you," he said to his servants, then addressed the girls: "There are already clothes in the houses. Don't hesitate to call my house elves, they'll adjust them for you. There are menus on the tables — just press the name of the food you want, and you'll get it. I'm giving you three days to think. Rest, socialize, eat at my expense. My servants will help with any problems or questions."
"And where are you going?" Ida asked.
"Not only veela deserve salvation. I still have work to do," Arthur replied, and headed to the werewolf reservation.
Marlow understood that if he stayed with the veela, he could convince many more… But did he need those who chased only profit? Who didn't value what had already been done for them and always wanted more? No, the appetites of such people would never be satisfied; they'd easily forget everything their benefactor had done for the sake of even greater gain.
Arthur had already given the girls freedom, health, shelter, and food. He had spoken directly of freedom of choice and generous payment. If someone found even this insufficient, or only wanted to sell themselves for money, it was better to filter them out immediately than deal with the consequences later.
Besides, he planned to weed out openly rotten personalities by telling them there was no more work, or something similar — as employers do when they don't want to hire someone. If they got indignant, he'd erase their memory of all his secrets.
Those were more important than someone's freedom. It would be foolish to expose himself and his loved ones out of excessive kindness. His plan was already entering the endgame, and failing now would be not only offensive, but most dangerous of all.
***
Not all werewolves succumbed to their bestial nature and lost their human appearance. In fact, most wanted to live ordinary lives: have children, work normal jobs, rather than scraping by or turning to crime. But with a registered werewolf curse, even as a wizard, you couldn't get a wand or officially study magic.
From the law's perspective, werewolves were even worse than veela — at least veela couldn't be killed outright, without a fine. Only vampires were worse, killed on sight, with bounties paid for them. But with vampires, it was clear — they couldn't live without human blood, so peace with them was as likely as between a hamburger and a human.
But werewolves were often turned by force, and except for full moons, posed no danger to others. Thanks to Marlow's bracelets, they didn't have to chain themselves to radiators or lock themselves in houses. They could simply pass out and wake up in the morning, sore from transformation. But this didn't change how wizards treated them.
For these reasons, werewolves often gathered in reservations to protect themselves and others. The largest and most peaceful werewolf reservation in England — unlike some wild villages that burned with the desire to infect others — was in the forests of Wales, two hundred kilometers away.
Unlike the controlled veela, werewolves weren't under constant watch and didn't wear collars. But apparition and spells were tracked, so Arthur flew to the settlement of forty houses on his wings. Of course, he didn't land in the center, but walked several hundred meters on foot.
"Stranger, come out," one of the werewolves standing guard, a guy who looked about twenty, sniffed and caught Arthur's scent. Not that Arthur planned to hide.
"My name is Arthur Marlow," he replied, approaching. "I arranged to meet with your elder, Gundir."
"Hector Waters. Surrender your wand." Arthur handed over one of the universal wands made for veela. They worked worse than even Ollivander's, but at least anyone could use them. His own wand, as always, was in spatial storage. Not that he was afraid of werewolves — he was partially a werewolf himself, just not contagious. He simply disliked giving his personal artifact to anyone. It was like lending out his underwear.
"Follow me, and no tricks."
"I did surrender my wand," Marlow smiled, sensing the werewolf's desire not to return it. Not that he wanted to kill him, but he clearly wanted a wand of his own. Walking through the village, Arthur saw nothing unusual, except perhaps a somewhat depressed atmosphere and the emotions of those around.
"You wouldn't guess at first glance this is a werewolf village. Ordinary people, except there's a lack of…"
"Children?" the guy said bitterly. "We don't have children, because they'll either be infected or born as wolf cubs."
"Many diseases have been cured. Perhaps yours will be too," Marlow said.
"When? I won't live to see it, and I won't have descendants."
"Don't lose hope. Miracles happen in our world."
"That would be nice," Waters said, a flicker of hope in his voice.
They approached the largest house in the center. It was built from whole tree trunks, a masterful log cabin. Hector knocked, went inside, and came out a couple minutes later.
"Go in, Gundir is ready to see you."
Arthur entered, first into an anteroom, then a living room with stairs ahead. To the right was a door to the kitchen, and nothing else was visible. From the living room's furnishings, it was easy to tell the hobby of the man sitting in the armchair, smoking a pipe. He was a hunter — trophies hung on the walls: roe deer, bear, elk, wolf, and more.
"Come in, there's no truth in standing," the man said, taking the pipe from his mouth and exhaling white, acrid smoke. Arthur sat down, noting the man's beastly appearance: tall, muscles bulging under a thin sweater, a shaggy beard. Only his too-intelligent gaze didn't fit the image.
"Already checked out my collection? It's because of it I became a werewolf, Mr. Marlow."
"How so?" Arthur asked.
"I wasn't a wizard, unlike most of the local werewolves, often bitten by that bastard Fenrir. I was an ordinary Muggle, as you say, and my wife was too. Once, while hunting boar, I had to spend the night in the forest during a full moon. I was attacked by a strange beast, part wolf, part man, but I thought I'd imagined it. It bit me, but I managed to shoot it with my Bertha," he nodded toward a monstrous double-barreled eighth-caliber shotgun.
"I was treated for a long time. The wound, though shallow, healed poorly, but the doctors sent me home after three weeks."
"And then there was a full moon," Arthur guessed.
"And then there was a full moon," Gundir agreed, his gaze suddenly serious and stern. "When I woke up, I didn't immediately realize what was in my mouth were my wife's intestines. So I really hope your letter isn't a prank."
"I'll need a volunteer to prove my words."
"Boy," the man chuckled, "there's a whole village of volunteers here. Just shout and everyone will come running, losing their pants. You think my story is cruel? Every second person here is like me."
"Then let's start with you, if you don't mind. A leader's example is worth a thousand words."
"What do I need to do?"
"Lie down and don't move." Arthur pulled a reduced, ready-made ritual circle of metal from his bag and enlarged it in the center of the room. It was only two meters in diameter, so it fit. The virus suppressor was already built in, so no need for an amulet.
"Do I need to undress?" Gundir asked.
"I don't like looking at naked men. I prefer girls," Marlow smirked.
"I agree with you there." After he lay down, Arthur wondered why the werewolf hadn't called anyone. What if he was about to be sacrificed? But listening to the man's emotions, he understood — Gundir didn't care. Whether he died or was cured, it was all the same to him.
Marlow sang the spell's quatrain, and after another light show with excess mana, it was done.
"I don't feel anything. It didn't even hurt," Gundir "the Fierce" Svellevson got up, feeling himself all over.
"Just remember how you transform," the mage advised, and watched with satisfaction as the beastly man transformed into an even more fierce werewolf, who in size resembled a bear more than a wolf.
"So?" Gundir asked, and only now, seeing his claws, recoiled.
"You control yourself. The transformation isn't painful and happens consciously. And I can also tell you — the werewolf virus has so shaken your magical core that you've become a weak, but still, wizard."
"But… how? Can I now start a family, have children?" he asked in a growling voice, looking at himself in werewolf form with disbelief.
"You can. I'll give you an amulet to suppress the virus, so presumably it will help you not infect your child."
"Presumably?" The answer didn't satisfy him.
"I haven't conducted direct tests, sorry," the blond shrugged. "But even if infection occurs — one little ritual, and the child won't transform unconsciously."
"So we'll be dependent on you."
"Find me a completely independent sentient being. That's only if you go alone into the deep forest. Naked."
"You're right," the werewolf burst into barking laughter and transformed back into a human, without prompts. "And what do you want for your invaluable help?"
"Vassalage and work with generous pay for you. I don't care as what — maid, warrior, artificer, potioneer."
"Hahaha, I imagined a werewolf in an apron," Svellevson laughed, wiping away tears. "You have my consent, and I'll talk to the others."
"Oh yes, let those who agree prepare to move."
"Where to?"
"Let that be a surprise," Arthur answered slyly.
***
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