Despite the fact that not all werewolves agreed to vassalage — and Arthur didn't accept everyone, having seen the rot in some auras — Availon ultimately gained one hundred and three new residents. They were given a settlement just like the veela had, right nearby. If they wanted to unite, it would be easy enough. If not, that was their choice.
Marlow considered that a crowd of men — and werewolves were mostly men — wasn't the best company for girls who had survived violence. Forced prostitution couldn't be called anything else. Three days after the veela had settled in Availon, Arthur invited Ida to his home to discuss their future.
"Ida," he addressed the rejuvenated woman in a white dress and wide-brimmed hat, as she sipped tea and nibbled blackberry jam from a small bowl. "What do you think of your girls? How many are ready to accept vassalage?"
"Forty-three," she replied. "The rest want to go to France. You'll really let them go, won't you?" she asked anxiously.
"Of course. I keep my word," Marlow nodded, savoring his cappuccino.
"But there's one problem… Agnes refuses to sign the contract or accept vassalage."
"Do you think I'll kill her? No, I'm not a villain, but I'm not a saint either. I'll erase her memory and send her with the others — the contract won't let them tell her anything anyway."
"Thank Merlin, I was worried. She's a good girl, just terribly stubborn."
"And that doesn't scare you? You agree to this?" Marlow was surprised.
"Agnes might do something stupid and compromise us all. I tried to talk to her, but she believes we should take revenge on wizards at any cost. Including you," she said grimly.
"And what do I have to do with it? I thought I'd shown I was on your side," Arthur asked, setting down his empty cup.
"She thinks you tricked us. That this is some elaborate trap to make us slaves again," Ida admitted, and Marlow could sense her own doubts and fears flickering beneath the surface.
"Let's be honest — if I wanted slaves, I wouldn't have removed your collars. I'd have just reconfigured the binding artifact to myself, or branded you. Why would I bring you here, heal you, give you homes, and offer you work? All that effort makes no sense if I saw you as slaves."
"Thank you. I'm glad I trusted you," Ida said, relief and gratitude in her voice. Never underestimate words of thanks — even if they don't fill your wallet, they show a person's true character. If the gratitude is sincere, of course.
"Warn your girls that soon my house-elves will invite those who agree to interviews," Arthur told her.
"So those are your house-elves?" she exclaimed, unable to hide her surprise. "I never would have guessed they could look like that."
"They can. I wasn't exaggerating about changing appearances."
"And about the interviews — you won't accept everyone who agrees?"
"I need to make sure the girls are sincere, not like your Agnes, who only sharpens her teeth for those who help her," Marlow answered with a smirk.
How could he explain about the rot, when the veela didn't yet have true sight? Give her glasses? But who would believe they didn't just show what he wanted? No, this was a matter of trust, and that takes time to earn.
After Ida left, Arthur did the same selection among the werewolves. He checked for rot, asked questions — fortunately, he could see lies even without reading surface thoughts, but he also used passive mental abilities and empathy. He weeded out three more girls whose thoughts weren't about peaceful life, but about stabbing him in the back, or seducing him, rising higher, and then stabbing.
Not that thoughts of seduction were rare — occupational hazard, really. Many had learned to curry favor with powerful wizards to avoid suffering, or even gain some freedom. Among the werewolves, too, there were those who wanted to tear out his throat or steal the secret of the ritual and amulets. Arthur didn't take such people with him at all, without explanation.
They, of course, cursed and tried to provoke the others, but got punched in the face by their own kind and fell silent. Ida couldn't just punch someone, and Marlow couldn't take everyone. So the rejected either signed a non-disclosure contract and went to France with a thousand galleons and a new appearance, or got Obliviated and ended up there with a hundred galleons.
Arthur didn't understand it: you were saved, healed, given money — and you still act up. He himself, despite Phineas's official death, despite only knowing about his request, still fulfilled it. Because that man had done a lot for him, and if Marlow didn't do the same in return, what would he be?
Soon Hagrid also agreed to Arthur's proposal, receiving a large, fireproof, reinforced house with furniture designed for a half-giant's size and weight — more like a cruise ship's superstructure than a house. But considering the creatures he'd be working with, it was more necessity than luxury.
***
Three months of accelerated time later.
Yvette woke up with a slight headache, which immediately faded — the "ingenium" artifact had done its work. In her sleep, she'd been given data she would have studied for a week. The girl stretched and looked herself over — she'd slept naked.
There were no old scars left from the perverted bastards who'd used dark charms during rape, leaving marks that couldn't be removed. No signs of childhood malnutrition. Even the hymen, lost by force at eleven, had been restored by their lord's, their suzerain's, magic. For that alone, she was ready for anything.
Yvette thought the girls who didn't appreciate their lord's favor and chose emigration to France were fools. Here she had everything: friends, delicious food, a home she could never have afforded. She headed to the bathroom, unafraid of cold or heat — all houses were enchanted with climate control. In the bathroom, the purest water flowed at her favorite temperature.
"Thank you, Vera," she said mentally to her assistant, who made the water just a bit cooler.
Another gift from their lord — such things weren't even sold outside, only simplified magicomps for ten thousand galleons. And they got them for free, with more functions. After her bath, she was enveloped by charms, so she left the bathroom practically dry and with clean teeth.
"You're welcome, mistress. The temperature outside is twenty-five degrees Celsius. I recommend the blue dress with cooling charms," a female voice identical to her own said in her head.
"Hmmm." Standing before the open wardrobe, where her illusion was displayed in different dresses, she waved her hand and chose a red dress with a high slit and deep neckline. Today was a joint combat magic lesson with the wolf cubs, which meant John, her boyfriend, would be there. He should look only at her!
She put her hand on the wardrobe wall, and the dress materialized in her hand. She knew cooling charms, so she cast them herself with her wand. Yes, now she could have a magic wand — and she'd made it herself, calculating compatibility with wood and core. Almost everyone had wands with their own hair; she'd chosen ash for the wood.
She headed for the exit from her apartment in the dormitory. Only families had their own houses.
"Yvette, you're early today!" her neighbor from across the hall called, locking her own door. Not that it was needed — it was hard to hide from Hal's all-seeing eye, and theft was discovered instantly, but old habits die hard. "Usually you come at the last minute."
"Good morning to you too, Rebecca," Yvette replied. "Today we have combat magic with Miss Black first! Try being late for her class — you'll end up in an unscheduled sparring match!"
"Haha, that's true. Though Miss Grey scares me more — she can turn you into a toad for the rest of the day with a sweet smile. And Miss Dorothy in floristics can tangle you up with her perverted vines," Rebecca said, blushing as they walked.
"You just shouldn't be rude to Mrs. Schroeder, our lord's mother," another blonde joined them — fifteen-year-old Irene, once never-smiling, now radiant with joy.
The girls hadn't just been given knowledge — their bad memories had been dulled. Not erased, but they felt as if they'd happened forty years ago. At their request, memories could be selectively removed, but always with a copy made first, so they could be restored or reviewed if desired. So far, no one wanted them back.
"What, were there really such suicidal people?" Yvette shuddered.
"Do you know Marcel?"
"The two-meter werewolf?" Rebecca asked.
"Yes. He once told her a pregnant woman should stay home, and she pressed so hard with her veela aura that he whimpered like a puppy. They say he even wet himself, but I don't know for sure," Irene shrugged.
"Let's go to Hagrid today? They say he and Ludwig are preparing the first batch of little dragons for hatching. Maybe one will suit us?" Yvette said hopefully.
"Little dragons, little dragons — what's the obsession? It's been said that besides the fourteen lucky ones who found their true familiars, the rest will have to negotiate with the dragons themselves when they become sentient. If they want to — they'll be with you, if not — they won't. And besides, I like Miss Grey's Phenicorns more. He's so cute," Rebecca said with the satisfied smile of a cat who'd found the cream.
The two older girls shuddered. Calling a hellish scaled horse with a burning tail, mane, wings, hooves, and eyes "cute" — that was something. Especially if you'd seen it hunt — teleporting in a fiery flash next to prey, baking it alive, and tearing it apart with dragon teeth.
After a few more bits of gossip, they reached the school, located between the veela and werewolf settlements. It looked unusual for the magical world, but any Muggle-born would recognize it as a copy of Oxford's buildings — except its walls were covered with strengthening and repairing runic chains, giving it an extravagant look.
The girls slipped into the large auditorium and took seats. There were no latecomers — no one wanted to get a diarrhea or incontinence curse for it. The sound of heels echoed, and in walked a stunning brunette, compared to whom even many veela looked pale and monotonous. Even the boldest werewolves didn't dare stare, recognizing her power. And there was no point — she didn't let anyone near her, not even Marlow, according to rumor.
Miss Black wore a green dress, an "ingenium" diadem, and elegant sandals. But her main accessory was the basilisk draped over her shoulders. Despite its danger, it was beautiful — opalescent scales shimmered in the light, and the bone crown on its head gave it nobility. The basilisk was still small, the size of a boa, so she could carry it.
"Today's lesson is on elemental charms. Ingenium should have put the basics in your heads. Who can tell me how elemental charms differ from transfiguration, curses, and non-material charms?" Not many hands went up. It's not enough to stuff knowledge into your head — you have to analyze and use it.
Bella looked around and picked a red-haired boy she hadn't called on in a while. "Arthur, will you tell us?"
"Transfiguration changes the form and, at the wizard's will, the structure of matter — materialization is part of it. Non-material charms affect the substance itself: remove friction, explode, cut, and so on. Curses are similar, but they affect the wizard directly. Elemental charms are both material and non-material, created from elemental mana, but don't always have a material structure," he answered.
"Well done, that's correct. You can create fuel with transfiguration and make it burn. But with elements, you can make air itself burn, water, even… space. You've all seen the movements of your runes and charms teacher Miss Grey's Phenicorns — that's burning through space. But today, we won't study elemental charms — Mr. Marlow and Mrs. Schroeder will teach you that better. We'll learn to defend against them. Let's start with an elemental shield against fire, 'Ignis Defendris'…"
The lesson was not just educational, but fun — little theory, thanks to night training, and lots of practice. Veela threw fireballs at each other and at werewolves, who defended themselves. In case of burns, all training halls had orbs with minor healing; for serious injuries, the medical office had an orb with medium healing. But no one liked ending up there — because the combat magic teacher's sister, Narcissa, was in charge.
Bella had convinced her to take an oath of non-disclosure so she could fulfill her dream and study medicine in practice, not just theory. And since Arthur, with Hal's help, had stuffed the blonde's head with not only Sumerian and modern wizarding knowledge, but also acupuncture and Muggle medicine. Which only added to her already prickly mood.
Marlow didn't mind — besides a qualified healer, he got a hefty sum from the Malfoys, whom he'd promised to raise the girl to Master Healer.
After combat magic was an elective in martial arts and yoga with Arthur, open to both men and women. But there weren't many takers.
"Get up, Gundir," Arthur told the werewolf lying in the sand. "Where's your werewolf honor?"
"My spirit is strong, but my flesh is weak," the former pack leader replied. There can only be one alpha. Suddenly, healing charms enveloped him, and he felt as good as at the start of the fight. "Now that's more like it!"
The werewolf bared his teeth and charged at Marlow, who was in human form. Arthur kept his hands behind his back, dodging all of Gundir's strikes, smirking the whole time — which drove Gundir mad. After half an hour, when the werewolf was exhausted, Marlow grabbed his clawed hand, spun him, and threw him into the sand.
"Not bad, not bad," Arthur said, helping the now-human Gundir up. "You have little mana, so you have to push yourself. But it's growing fast."
"I wish I could be like the veela, or you — you have so much mana," he replied.
"We don't choose who we're born as, but it's up to us what we die as," Arthur answered philosophically.
"I'd rather not die."
"Me too, but… Nothing is eternal, not even gods. So everything is in our hands."
***
After another sparring match with Gundir, Arthur went to his workshop. The soul fragment from the diadem really belonged to Gaunt. Using an enchanted map and volt-magic, Marlow determined that Gaunt had made five horcruxes — one of which Arthur had trapped in an obsidian sphere. Two parts of his soul were with him, now in the Lestrange mansion. Two more horcruxes were in Little Hangleton.
For now, Marlow left them alone, reasonably assuming there were signal charms, and if he poked around, the Dark Lord would get suspicious. He'd definitely check the diadem with his minions. That's why Marlow was training werewolves and veela — fifteen had agreed to join combat units: three squads of two veela and three werewolves each.
Armor and combat artifacts were ready; now they just needed to learn to use them and work as a team. Fortunately, Gundir had served in the Muggle army and reached captain, so there was someone for team-building. The "ingeniums" and Hal helped create a mental link between squad members, so in another month, Arthur would have strong combat groups.
In the real world, only two weeks had passed, but much had happened. Gaunt began acting openly — he didn't like Marlow's "destruction" of the veela and werewolf settlements, which cost him the support of magical races. He should have waited, observed, but instead began attacking Muggle-born families, no longer hiding. This freed the aurors' hands, and Voldemort was declared wanted.
That was one reason Arthur asked Ariel and Ludwig to take leave and move to Availon. He had to tell them what he'd gotten into and why, listen to accusations and shouting, but now he was sure of their safety. Bella and Pandora weren't always in Availon — they, like Arthur, had lessons — but time adjustability was a very useful thing. And their "disappearances" had little effect on the training of werewolves and veela.
Marlow also wanted to take squibs for training, but… they took a long time to train, and wouldn't agree to vassalage easily. Besides, Bella and Pandora's familiars finally hatched — and almost immediately started fighting, sensing a natural enemy. But since their mistresses were friends, they had to restrain themselves, especially since they couldn't harm each other — basilisk skin was too tough for fire and phenicorn hooves, and the snake's gaze no longer worked on the flying horse.
The blood of the phenicorns, as Pandora named the species, was an incredible ingredient, surpassing phoenix tears and unicorn blood in healing. But… it was full of elemental blood, and only Arthur could drink it unprocessed.
Medici would have sold his soul for every drop, since it was a catalyst more powerful than Marlow's apples, but alas, here it was up to Pandora and her willful horse, who rarely wanted to be a donor, even if appeased.
Another important point: Lucius and Abraxas were still gathering like-minded people who wanted to get rid of the mark, and for some reason decided to gather them all together. I could feel a setup coming with my very bones…
***
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