After that visit, time flew quite quickly. Madam Pomfrey visited me very often, checked something, cast spells, brought potions, and talked on abstract topics. Or rather, she asked questions, stimulating my desire to speak. Mostly about mundane things. On one hand, this allowed her to learn the degree of my awareness about everyday life and realities around, and on the other, speaking practice. Although, already on the third day I could speak calmly, the muscles and ligaments of the speech apparatus did not get tired from the unusual load, and speech became smooth and literate, without distortions of sounds and other garbage.
Physical activity in the form of simple movement in space or simply the correct use of cutlery, books, notebooks, pencils, all this was relatively normal, but one can forget about complex motor skills or some atypical movements for now; the body is truly undeveloped in this regard and there is long work ahead on this. Although I am flexible.
The tuned mental block finished its work back on the first day, and now simultaneously appearing contradictory emotions did not tear me apart. But this does not mean that the shards stopped influencing me altogether, no. They are "Me," and this very "Me" really dislikes... A lot. If in order, then due to the memory of the shards, I am simply not satisfied with any side of the situation. A dwarf must be a strong warrior, a skilled smith, a cunning merchant. From a young age. Strong and enduring. If this is not so, then it is better to immediately go to the Deep Roads for the last march and not disgrace the clan with existence. As an elf, I must be skilled in arts, flexible and agile, a deadly fighter in close and ranged combat, possess a bunch of other skills and abilities. If this is not so, then it is worth thinking about the meaning of immortal life, and whether to fertilize the Mallorns with oneself. And there is a whole wagon and a small cart of such "ifs." And only the human base hints, saying: "Mediocrity at thirteen? It'll do!"
All week I tried to figure out how to live on. Judging by the memories of this body, I have to build relationships with relatives, study at this Hogwarts, whatever it may be, grow up, and so on. Terrible. Simply terrible.
A week into the observation, old man Dumbledore came to me, and together we went to my parents. By fireplace. An amazing transport system working on principles of puncturing space! And no, I did not understand the basis of this system, but by some associations in the memory shards, I was able to understand at least what it is. Still, it is unclear to me how one should relate to the memory of shards. They feel as if I participated in some movie live, a sort of "full immersion"; after ordering, much does not find an emotional response and looks more like information. Information that is worth studying properly.
Via fireplace, we moved to a very unpresentable drinking establishment designed in the style of such an old tavern. The few visitors looked unkempt and even resembled homeless people, although it is the end of the twentieth century outside, and these people, as I understand, must be wizards. A terrible disgrace for a wizard—to be such a bum.
"The Leaky Cauldron," the Headmaster explained while we walked to the exit from the hall. Many nodded to the Headmaster with a smile, by the way. "One of the few passages to the main magical street of London, Diagon Alley. I think Professor McGonagall will tell you more when you go shopping. Or do you prefer to go with your sister?"
"I don't know."
"Perhaps that will be even better, although, as I know, she planned to spend the rest of the holidays with friends."
"Then I won't distract her."
Leaving the Leaky Cauldron, we found ourselves on a quite ordinary and era-appropriate street in London. People in ordinary casual clothes scurried back and forth, cars drove by, techno-genic noise hit the ears, and the sense of smell sounded the alarm; the atmosphere of a metropolis might well cause sensory shock out of habit.
"And here are your parents," the Headmaster smiled and nodded toward a car parked nearby. An old Land Rover. Old even for today.
The Headmaster waved his hand slightly in the air, and I felt a slight energy fluctuation. The man and woman standing by the car, whom I vaguely remember, immediately turned their attention to the two of us.
"Headmaster Dumbledore?" the woman addressed the old man and shifted her gaze to me. "Hector?"
"Hello? Probably," I nodded without much emotion. And then the "mush" started.
Mom, and it was precisely her, for even a blind person would notice the resemblance of our faces, immediately rushed to hug me and wail something there. Well yes, seeing the quite conscious and rational gaze of her son for the first time. Father was far more restrained; he approached and greeted the Headmaster. With a handshake.
"Thank you for your help."
"As I already said," the Headmaster smiled, "it was not difficult and not costly, and even without our help the boy would have come to his senses, albeit somewhat later."
Having exchanged a couple more phrases with the Headmaster, the parents quickly, quickly dragged me into the car, and Mom sat next to me in the back seat and had absolutely no intention of letting me out of her embrace. Hope she doesn't break anything; I'm as thin as a stick.
Upon arrival home, they showed me everything immediately, although I remembered everything anyway. Then they sat me at the table.
"So thin, what a nightmare," Mom lamented, piling something meaty onto my plate.
"I was like this before too. I say—I remember everything."
My hands did not hold the fork very well correctly, as the upbringing from the shards required, and I had to simplify the grip somewhat—the way the body learned while being on autopilot. Yes, I know I am holding utensils the way a human is used to, but the damn elf shard—even if almost empty, things were deposited in it that he did much more often than a human, for he simply lived longer.
"Need more practice," I noted aloud.
My parents looked at me with relief.
The whole day passed in a similar vein. They showed me something in the house, conducted an educational program in terms of "what is what, and how to use it." To my surprise, I noticed that some technical nuances, for example, the remote control for the TV, initially caused some stupor, but understanding of both the internal structure of the cathode-ray tube TV and the remote floated up as if reluctantly from memory. And how to use it, naturally.
Hermione. Sister. A girl like any girl. Only right now she really left to visit friends, and parents lament, saying it is impossible to get in touch. Postal owls are needed, and wizards have no other connection. Rubbish. But oh well, when in Rome, do as the Romans do.
Although I met my birthday, July 4th, at Hogwarts, nothing prevented celebrating it with tea and cake. By the twentieth, the excitement in the house from my recovery subsided, and parents stopped spinning around me all their free time like fairy-tale bears around a pot of honey. Now I not only read various literature to check the completeness of my knowledge but could also calmly think in solitude, and there was something to think about.
First is physique. A healthy mind in a healthy body, and this is not just a saying. For a magical being, to which absolutely any organics with a gift for manipulating energies belong, the condition of the body is very important. When Healer Smethwyck came to us, if my not-the-best memory of this life does not fail me, he spoke of a "triad": body, soul, mind. The state of the soul remains to be checked, I more or less ordered the mind, and the body remains.
At the moment, I am the happy owner of a male body thirteen years of age. Somewhat taller than peers, thin, muscles mediocre. They said health is in order, only the brains work anomalously much. This needs to be changed. No, not in terms of brains, but physical development, and several methods can help me. Classics of the genre—physical training. Add to them magical support in the form of potions and tinctures. But for a start, one should attend to the diagnostics of magical abilities and conducting the installation of a connection with different energies. Which means I need to start with magic. What is known to me about magic from the memories of the shards? Not much, and almost no specifics—general facts and thoughts that swirled most often in the minds of the shards. And a couple of dozen techniques can be scraped together, also the most frequently used, and therefore best "imprinted."
Magic in itself is a complex direction of conscious manipulation of versatile and diverse energies of the universe to change or embody various properties and aspects of reality. Simply put, magic is the discipline, wizardry is the process.
Since magic allows controlling energies, a logical question arises: "What energies exactly?" However obvious the answer may be, it is simple—any. Elves in their time proved that everything existing is a form of energy. This fact is superimposed on the multidimensionality of reality and generates an infinite number of energies of the most varied kind, sense, and properties.
Multidimensionality? An infinite number of dimensions within the limits of one space. Many such dimensions are filled with specific energy, the name of which is maximally close to the embodied or related effects, properties, and other facets of reality. For example, such banality as the energy of fire, water, or electricity, life, light, darkness, death, and so on. An immeasurable multitude. Some, when merging, form other, more complex ones, and some are impossible to combine, like matter with antimatter—there will be a big ba-da-boom.
Yawning heartily, I decided it was time to go to sleep. However healthy the body might be, it cannot boast endurance. Yes, sleep...
The soft comfortable pillow under my head imperceptibly changed for me to a light cool breeze, bringing scents of a summer forest. A magical forest—this was felt immediately. Softly stepping over a root of a centuries-old tree protruding from the ground, I inadvertently looked up at the green crowns, through which daylight almost did not penetrate.
A step, another step—no one would hear these movements. My hand familiarly gripped the handle of a bow, and an arrow asked to leave the quiver itself; the eye noted a shadow flashing between the trees. The arrow immediately lay in my hand, and here I am already aiming, having drawn the bowstring. Gathering a little wind magic in motion, I direct it into the arrow, concurrently forming a simple magical construct.
With a characteristic click, the bowstring launched the arrow. Obeying the will of magic, the arrow passed the tree trunks, and a moment later, there, in the distance, a dirty human in leather armor fell from behind a tree.
"They are here!" a male scream rang out in one of the human dialects, but I already sensed the enemy's presence, direction, and distance to him with my gut feeling.
Arrows left my quiver one by one, departing into flight, and with the help of magic, they changed their direction, unerringly finding the end of their path in an opponent's heart. A moment, and everything ended, and only disturbed birds screamed somewhere above, in the crowns of the trees.
Several dozen light, weightless jumps, and here I am leaning over the body of one of the humans, stretching my palms over the body and creating a magical diagnostic seal, the color of which was green due to the energy of life. Blinking, it seemed as if I fell into darkness.
I opened my eyes again, standing near a wicker crib made of branches, where a chubby-cheeked toddler with pointed ears sniffled sweetly in white sheets, and a green diagnostic seal slowly flew from my outstretched hands over him. His parents did not distract me, and I quickly finished this task. Turning my head to the right, I met the concerned and hope-filled gazes of a young-looking pair of elves in loose light clothes, the style of which was dominated by plant motifs.
"Your little one is completely healthy," I said with a light smile. "This is a great joy."
The female elf sighed with relief, not hiding a smile, and her husband only nodded importantly, as if it could not be otherwise. The female elf looked at me again and noticed in my spare expression not only polite joy but also concern.
"But not everything is so joyful, is it?" she asked, not hiding the reappeared anxiety.
"You are right," I nodded with restraint.
"Speak, Healer, do not torment us," the male elf showed restraint.
"The toddler has a vivid predisposition for connection with the dimension of death energy."
The female elf covered her mouth with her palms, and the elf only pressed his lips tighter.
"You understand yourselves what something like this means. The Elders will not allow an initiated necromage to live in the Forest. And to neglect initiation..."
"We understand," the elf nodded. "The craving for kindred energy and the inability to receive it will pervert his mind, pushing him to obtain this energy naturally. By the cruelest path."
"Yes. I, as required, will conduct the initiation for the dimension of life; the toddler is compatible with it, like all of us. But the rest... This is your choice. Do you need time to think?"
"Do everything that is needed," the elf nodded stubbornly, and his wife gratefully placed a hand on his forearm.
"Are you sure? With your position in society..."
"Our son will not be a crazy ripper, but neither will he grow up an orphan, Healer."
I did not expect another answer. Not after a century of attempts by this couple to conceive a child. Now I just need to create the necessary seals to connect the toddler with the energy dimensions of life and death.
Taking off my shoulder bag, I placed it on the floor of the house made of living wood to get the necessary ingredients. Looking up, I saw the empty streets of a white-stone city. Perfect walls of two- and three-story houses, but the windows were tightly closed, and only curious faces of kids peeked out from some, almost immediately led deep into the house by parents. There, in the distance, bright spires of the Academy were visible, and shielded accumulators of magic glowed with barely visible blue dots on the highest of the towers.
"Are you ready?" an old voice rang out from my side.
Turning my head to the sound, I saw the old man in a blue robe who had bored me. With one hand, he held a massive wooden white staff, the finial of which was a sharpened blue quartz—a rare mineral and one of the best accumulators of any magical energy.
"More respect for elders, Rector," I took a bundle of oblong metal cylinders, covered in tiny runes, out of the bag with a smirk.
"Certainly not," the old man stubbornly pursed his lips, running a hand over his snow-white beard. "I didn't slave away for the Empire for two hundred years just to not be able to say what I want in old age too. And how I want."
Getting up, I stood next to the old man. We both looked at the same thing—a fenced-off plot with a large private mansion. Only it fell out of the general "perfection" of the city; almost the entire territory was as if covered in viscous dark fog, and the earth, trees, walls of the house—everything seemed covered in an almost impenetrable black mass.
"And what is it this time? A failed experiment?" looking out for the dark amorphous shadows appearing now and then and immediately disappearing in this disgusting magical mess, I addressed the old man.
"Narcissistic magical families, that's what. They were told that their child is not capable of projecting the energy of dimensions into reality, but no, everyone is a fool," the old man grumbled, tapping his staff on the perfectly smooth stone of the road underfoot.
"Did they really conduct the initiation?"
"Exactly! They are smarter than everyone. Their line has existed since the very founding of the Empire! And if only they conducted the initiation with fire—they would have burned, and good riddance to them. But no, darkness and Chaos. I feel sorry for the child..."
"And not the adults?"
"I got tired of pitying fools about fifty years ago. There isn't enough pity for all of them. And where have you been disappearing to? Meditating on some bush again, I bet?"
"You exaggerate, Rector."
Suddenly the mansion literally exploded with darkness, and from its depths, a giant amorphous shadow rushed in our direction, the basis of which was a huge black skull with an open jaw. It approached inexorably, causing fear...
Jumping up in my bed, I felt a nightshirt stuck to my body and wet through.
"A dream... Just a dream..." I spoke aloud, inspecting the dark room.
A stirring of shadows in the corner attracted my attention. I only had to look there, and a black skull flew out of the darkness, flying at me with a nasty squeaky hum.
Jumping up in my bed, I looked at the nasty antediluvian electronic alarm clock that was emitting a nasty squeaky hum. Exhaling with relief, I turned it off with a press of a button and immediately crashed back into bed. There was no sweat at all.
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