Chapter 52
Snowflakes swirled slowly in the air, and a chill Scottish wind knocked against the windows of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher’s private quarters. A festive New Year’s Eve atmosphere permeated the streets, and the sky above Hogsmeade was constantly illuminated by magical fireworks. However, the office was in semi-darkness: the heavy curtains were tightly drawn, not a single candle burned, and only the glowing fireplace provided a sliver of light. A tall, dark-haired man sat in a comfortable chair by the fire, a glass of whiskey in hand, his faintly glowing red eyes staring off into space.
Voldemort, the Lord of Fates, hated Christmas, that vile Muggle holiday! And this withering hatred had lingered since early childhood. When little Tom was three years old, he saw through the bars of the orphanage fence how Santa Claus presented a well-dressed child with a large red box tied with a golden bow. He wanted a gift too, and thanks to his skinny frame, he easily squeezed through the bars and ran to the magical Christmas grandfather. Alas, when the ragged orphan reached Santa, he pulled off his fake beard and, grimacing, gave the child a sound slap. The blow wasn’t hard, but it was enough for the hungry Tom—he fell into an icy, muddy puddle, amid the laughter of those around him. It was then that the future Dark Lord first felt resentment towards the world around him and rage at its injustice. Pathetic wretches dared to laugh at him! The rage and anger were so strong that the gift in the hands of the hated boy burst into flames, and Tom himself lost consciousness.
The little dark lord awoke in the orphanage, in the “gas chamber,” as the orphans called it. The cold, dark, and damp room was in the basement, and a leaky diesel generator pipe ran through it, filling the room with carbon monoxide. For soiling his clothes and frightening decent people, Mrs. Cole kept him there without food for almost three days. This time only deepened Tom’s hatred, as for Christmas dinner at the orphanage, everyone was given a whole boiled egg and half an apple, and he had missed it all. And all because of his naivety and the vile adult who, for fun, threw the orphan into a dirty puddle. From then on, Voldemort always associated Christmas with hunger and cold, and the sounds of holiday fireworks rang out like children’s cries of pain and suffering.
The clock over the fireplace struck midnight, marking the New Year of 1992. The tall, dark-haired wizard’s lips curled into a semblance of a smile, and he took a sip from his glass. Unlike Christmas, the Dark Lord loved New Year’s, but only a few knew this, only his closest followers. Alas, almost all of them were already dead, and those still alive would soon envy them! Cowardly wretches had betrayed him; not a single one had tried to find him and help him regain his former power! Soon they would pay for everything! New Year’s is the beginning of a new journey! New Year’s will mark the death of his enemy! Just as in childhood, it was on New Year’s Eve that little Tom committed his first murder.
Mrs. Cole was very fond of money, so sponsorship funds were rarely spent on the children. But even this money was insufficient for the orphanage’s manager, so she found an additional source of income. Well-dressed men and women would often visit the orphanage. These respectable gentlemen would choose a boy or girl and invite the child to a celebratory dinner. The hungry children happily accepted, promised delicious food and many gifts. However, the orphans would later return silent, often beaten and with an odd gait, and sometimes never return at all. Little Tom was a very smart boy, so he quickly hid whenever he spotted another expensive car at the orphanage gates, and thanks to a mysterious power, he was undetectable. Unfortunately, that day, Tom expended all his strength to inflict severe pain on the older boys for trying to take a glass of jelly from him, and by the time Mr. Slevin arrived, he was sleeping peacefully in his room.
The handsome seven-year-old boy caught the eye of the plump, mustachioed gentleman, and after handing Mrs. Cole a gray envelope, the man pointed specifically at him. Ten minutes later, Tom was riding in the backseat of an expensive car, while Mr. Slevin, who asked to be called Teddy, devoured the boy with a strange gaze. At the luxurious mansion, the child was immediately seated at the table, since, according to Mr. Teddy, “playing around” on an empty stomach is harmful. It was then that Tom enjoyed food for the first time and tasted real meat, but before he could finish chewing the last piece, the hospitable host approached him. The boy jumped up from the table and began backing away until his back hit the dining room wall. The mustachioed gentleman, with a lustful smile, approached him and began to gently stroke the child’s head with one hand while unzipping his fly with the other. The future dark lord immediately remembered Billy, a boy a year older than him, who had also visited Mister Teddy and, upon returning to the orphanage, hanged himself in his own room.
Then Voldemort felt not only rage and malice within himself, but also darkness. This new force literally enveloped him, bestowing a sense of power and demanding immediate release. At that very moment, the mustachioed pervert, who had already been touching the boy’s genitals, flew back against the wall and fell like a broken doll onto the expensive parquet floor. Tom would forever remember the fear in that bastard’s eyes. The boy grabbed a large, two-pronged fork with a wooden handle from the table, leisurely approached his enemy, and plunged the weapon into his face. He stabbed Slevin several dozen more times, listening to the wretched creature scream loudly in pain and experiencing genuine pleasure. When the would-be rapist could no longer scream, Tom plunged the fork into his eye socket and realized that strength lies in the darkness! The darkness is always near. The darkness will always protect. The darkness whispered tenderly to him that every murder was a step towards power, and the boy completely agreed with it.
After admiring the corpse of his enemy, whom he had personally killed, Tom Riddle calmly returned to the table and continued his dinner, ignoring the unpleasant odor—the orphanage sometimes smelled much worse. Having finished his meal, the future Dark Lord rummaged through the dead pervert’s pockets and, grabbing a thick wad of pounds, returned to the orphanage. From then on, Mrs. Cole did not show Tom Riddle to distinguished guests, and she eyed him with fear.
Voldemort saluted into the void and sipped his drink. This year, his enemies would fall, and he himself would gain power! He had almost unraveled the web of protective enchantments that the old spider had woven in the Forbidden Corridor; just a little more, and the Philosopher’s Stone would be in his hands! And when he obtained this precious artifact, he would fulfill the prophecy—the Potter bastards must be dead! And then he, having achieved immortality and mastered the very depths of Dark Magic, would become invulnerable! Petty nobodies, these filthy Potters would soon die! Voldemort found it increasingly difficult to control himself; he was doing everything in his power not to strangle those green-eyed Mudblood bastards right there in class.
– Dumbledore! – The Dark Lord, once again overcome by a wave of rage and madness, jumped up from his seat and threw his glass with all his might at the wall.
With sheer force, Voldemort began to destroy everything around him. Mordred’s Potters! That damned old bearded spider! Pathetic Mudbloods! Soon they would feel the wrath of the great Dark Wizard! Soon, very soon, he would gain unprecedented power! And then Voldemort would summon his servants, and when he had finished punishing these cowards for their treachery, he would subjugate the Wizarding World! He is Lord Voldemort, he is the Lord of Dark Magic, he is the descendant of Salazar Slytherin, and he was born to rule!
“Cough, cough…” A strong, hacking cough brought the man back to his senses, and the sharp pain that wracked his entire body drove away the madness. Spitting out thick, viscous blood, the dark lord pulled a white silk handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his lips. “Damn it, this vessel is breaking down faster than expected.”
Voldemort pulled several vials of healing potions from his pocket and quickly downed them, finishing with an elixir of clear thinking and perfect memory. After taking a few deep breaths, the man finally calmed down, the red flame of hatred subsided, and his eyes returned to their blue color. Professor Quirrell’s wand appeared in his hand, and he once again began to restore the devastated apartments.
“You need to control yourself,” the Dark Lord mentally slapped himself. “Remember, you’re on the bearded Muggle-lover’s territory until you get the stone – you can’t kill children!”
During the ten years the Dark Lord spent as a disembodied spirit, his mind had recovered somewhat, and he realized that by the end of his life, he had gone completely mad. The Dark Lord remembered the year before that cursed night of Samhain and the murder of Potter and his Mudblood daughter only vaguely and in fragments, and yet he was a master of mental magic! He’d overdone it a bit with the Horcruxes, but he’d become immortal! He’d survived the Avada reflected off the baby, and he’d soon finish what he’d started! And why, exactly, had he decided to kill the children himself? He should have cast Imperio on the Mudblood daughter and given the order to do so; he’d already done that, so why dirty his own hands? Alas, the past cannot be changed; he’s alive, and that’s all that matters.
While Voldemort was restoring order, he remembered the naive fool whose body he now occupied. Last July, as the Dark Lord was once again musing on the vicissitudes of fate and his own folly, a young, ambitious wizard named Quirinus Quirrel entered the cave that housed his spirit. This pathetic failure craved power and knowledge, but alas, given his background, he was unable to achieve his desires. The naive boy didn’t want to spend decades learning magic; he wanted everything at once.
Quirrel came to his cave and proposed a deal. The idiot had somehow learned that Dumbledore was planning to hide the Philosopher’s Stone in Hogwarts. He offered the Dark Lord his help in exchange for knowledge and power. Of course, Voldemort agreed, but the young wizard’s plan didn’t suit him. He—the Dark Lord—would become a pathetic parasite?! He would spend a year imparting all his accumulated knowledge to this worthless creature?! Naturally, he pretended not to notice and promised the idiot everything he wanted to hear, while also offering to slightly improve the Merge ritual. The naive fool happily agreed, and just two days later, Voldemort staggered out of the cave in a new, younger body.
Sumerian kings used this ancient ritual to rule forever. When the body began to deteriorate, the priests transferred the ruler’s soul to a new, youthful vessel. The Dark Lord performed a nearly identical ritual, though he had to struggle a bit with the body’s owner; the brat was unwilling to give up his body, much less die, until the very end. But the Lord of Fates is great, so his victory was certain. Alas, the body refused to accept the defective soul and began to deteriorate, or perhaps it was a magical backlash for the broken promise. He even had to turn to Quirrell’s friends for help and hastily perform new rituals to strengthen the bonds between the soul and the new body.
Two boys and two girls eagerly followed Quirinus, who promised to show them a new place of power he’d found in a remote cave. The four died in terrible agony for three days while Voldemort tormented their bodies, literally draining their magic and life force. The Dark Lord was lucky—one of the girls was a virgin. He meticulously mutilated and raped her young body for almost a day; her blood yielded the best results. But the great Dark Wizard knew this was a temporary measure. A couple of years at most until the vessel’s complete destruction, which is precisely why he so desperately needed the Philosopher’s Stone to create a new body for himself and gain unprecedented power!
The man surveyed the room, now in perfect order, and chuckled contentedly, then returned to the comfortable chair in front of the fireplace and refilled his glass with the expensive spirit. He’d almost achieved his goal; he’d personally helped Dumbledore construct the obstacle course and seen the stone—it was real! Flitwick had practically vomited while in the same room with the wondrous artifact; the emanations of pain and suffering beckoned and drew the Dark Lord. And just in case he couldn’t overcome the old man’s defenses, Voldemort had a backup plan. The old man would have no choice but to hand over the stone himself. However, he’d have to leave quickly afterwards; he was still too weak to fight Dumbledore, especially on his own turf. The Dark Lord took a sip of the scalding drink and smiled contentedly, the potion of clear thinking worked at full strength, and the madness finally retreated, granting the dark wizard a shred of critical thinking.
“And if it doesn’t work?” Voldemort asked himself. “Then I’ll have to use another ritual, and I know who will help me…”
The man glanced sideways at the coffee table, where a strange book, a Christmas gift from an unknown source, lay. The title on the hardback read, ” How to Rule the World Without Attracting the Orderlies . ” Any normal person would have realized it was a joke, but the Dark Lord decided it was a sign! One of his loyal allies had sensed their master and had decided to prove their loyalty. This someone had shown Voldemort that they were ready to help him achieve world domination! And the Lord had an inkling of who it was. The young, ambitious, and highly intelligent wizard had always been a favorite of the Dark Lord, and his loyalty was unquestionable.
Voldemort reconsidered and made a fateful decision: he would return to his faithful follower this summer, with or without the Stone. And when the Dark Lord of Fates rules the world, he will generously reward his faithful servant. Indeed, a great wizard born to rule cannot have friends, only servants and allies.
With a wicked smile, the powerful wizard pulled the strange book toward him and opened it, searching for hidden signs and clues. A jumble of thoughts and plans swirled in his head, pondering how to exploit the situation to his maximum advantage, what power and authority he would gain once he fulfilled the prophecy and became invulnerable.
“This year will be the beginning of a new journey!” Voldemort raised his glass solemnly, and at the same moment, a brilliant explosion of celebratory fireworks rang out. “This is a sign! The new year will be marked by the death and suffering of my enemies!”
After taking a few sips, the wizard set the glass down on the table and curled his lips into a haughty smirk. The dark wizard felt hatred filling him again like a full-flowing river, ready to overflow its banks. And he would surely unleash it, so that all these worthless souls would experience the wrath of the Lord of Fates, Voldemort. His future was predetermined—he would rule the world!
Voldemort smiled wickedly, glanced at the coffee table again, and the smile turned to anticipation. A huge stack of scribbled parchments lay on the table. World domination could wait; first, he needed to check the seventh-year students’ homework. The Dark Lord needed literate and educated subjects; he had no intention of ruling over a dumb herd.
***
On New Year’s Day, I woke up feeling refreshed and energetic; I hadn’t slept so well in a long time. After nudging Hermione and seeing that she was still awake, I headed off to join the restroom line. Our schedule then included the traditional jog and workout, after which we rinsed off in the sauna and headed to the table as a group.
Breakfast after the New Year was traditionally much more sumptuous than usual; the salads needed finishing. Just when I couldn’t bear to look at the delicious food anymore and made the fateful decision to lie down for a while with a book after breakfast, a small white box with a logo of a bitten pear landed smoothly in front of me. Looking around, I saw that a similar box had landed in front of each of those gathered at the table.
“I got so busy yesterday that I completely forgot,” Alevtina said, a little embarrassed, then continued proudly. “It’s PIZDAK’s latest development, and will be available for purchase at the end of January.”
– Whose development? – My eye twitched.
“The Penza Innovative Plant of Long-Range Communication Artifacts, they make the Miraclephones,” Sergei answered proudly. “Alya works there as the chief engineer. I take it this is your vaunted second generation?”
“Yes, we’ve added a magic radio, conference calls, group messaging, and…” The woman proudly pulled a small, flesh-colored droplet from her ear and showed it to everyone. “The kit now includes wireless magephones! You can use them to talk or listen to music without taking the artifact out of your pocket! What are you standing there for? Open your presents!”
I chuckled, the half-eaten pear bringing back some memories from a past life. Opening the box, I saw a black rectangle similar to my Miraclephone, only this one was about half as thin and had smoother edges. The new gadget also felt much more comfortable in my hand, and the earbuds had an auto-adjustment feature. It was a cool thing, no doubt about it. It also had a full-size screen (instead of the old model’s mirror), on which several icons glowed. Among them, I found a telephone receiver, a notepad, a contact list, and so on. This artifact already reminded me of a fully functional smartphone.
“Excuse me, but how do I transfer the numbers?” Hermione held the artifacts in different hands and looked questioningly at Alevtina. “And what do we do with the old one?”
“Everything’s been thought of! Just place the new Miraclephone on top of the old one, and it’ll do the rest,” the woman replied with a smile.
“Okay…” The friend nodded and, placing the old device mirror-side down on the table, placed the new gadget on top of it.
Then real magic happened: the second-generation Miraclephone emitted a pleasant melody and glowed faintly, while the old artifact began to turn into gray ash, and after ten seconds, only a brand new artifact appeared on the table, leaving no trace of the old one.
“It’s great, isn’t it?” Alevtina’s eyes practically lit up with pride. “Now all your numbers and messages are in this new artifact! And you don’t even have to throw the old one away, we’re so environmentally friendly. PIZDAK even received a Stalin Prize for this development!”
“Uh… What if I wanted to give the old Wonderphone to my mom or my little brother?” Hermione looked at the gift from all sides in confusion, then lifted it, but there was nothing there either. It seemed the girl had been hoping to the very end to find the old, now-homelike artifact nearby.
“Why!? Why give away the old Miracle Phone to Mom or Brother when you can buy a new one?” The woman looked at the curly-haired girl in confusion. “The new artifact is much more powerful and functional! And we’ve even built in protection!”
“I wonder how it works?” My mother had already gone through the process of destroying the old device and was now looking at the new one with interest.
“It’s very simple!” The woman pulled her artifact from her pocket, turned it toward us, and pointed to the padlock icon. “Just press the protection logo, then run your tongue along the line on the screen. The artifact will read your magical imprint and will only work in your hands!”
“Do I have to lick it every time?” Dima turned to his relative and glanced suspiciously at his Miracle Phone, whose black screen showed a red stripe. At that moment, my grandfather made the famous hand-to-face gesture and quietly laughed.
“Um… No, just once, it’s easier to read the magical response. Then, just pick up the artifact, and it will immediately recognize its owner.” Alevtina looked around at everyone with a smile. “We spent five years developing this technology, and it’s really cool, isn’t it?! Dima, come on, show everyone how to bind the magical mold!”
“Can I do it later? I’ll do it in my room, honestly!” The guy blushed and quickly put the artifact in his pocket.
“I did it!” It seemed like Kostik, a seven-year-old boy, showed everyone his Miracle Phone, and the other kids started licking their artifacts too.
Hermione and I exchanged glances and pocketed the new device. The others followed suit, even my mother blushed slightly, and Sergei continued to laugh quietly. I watched the children swipe their tongues across the screen and looked away; the process was remarkably reminiscent of something else… I mentally slapped myself, driving the vulgar thoughts from my head. They were replaced by other, more rational ones, and I pulled the Wonderphone back out.
“Alevtina, have you considered adding a magic chamber to the artifact?” I asked the sorceress who had a hand in creating such a complex artifact.
– Why? – The woman looked at me in bewilderment.
“It’s so convenient! The camera is in your pocket, you can quickly take a photo and send it wherever you need or save it to the device’s memory.” I enthusiastically began listing the advantages of this feature. “Then you can show the photos to your friends! Or take a photo of text so you don’t have to rewrite it—it’s so convenient!”
– But it’s true… How come we didn’t think of it… – The sorceress blinked her eyes in surprise and took a thick notebook out of her pocket, in which she quickly scribbled.
“It’s going to take a while…” Maria looked at her daughter-in-law with a smile and shook her head. “So, children, have you all eaten?” We nodded in unison. “Well done, you can go about your business. Lunch is at exactly one o’clock!”
From the dining room, my friend and I headed to our room, where we lounged around with books until lunchtime. After another hearty meal, we decided not to get fat and went outside, where we built a snow fort with the other kids under the guidance of Victor and Yefim. The process turned out to be very interesting and captivating; the older kids demonstrated the wonders of transfiguration, transforming snow blocks into fortress walls. They even built a suspension bridge! Hermione, Elvira, and I decorated this entire splendor with fireflies, and when we got tired of it, we slid down the smooth slide and started a snowball fight. The time until darkness flew by in an instant, and before I knew it, I was back at the table, tired and terribly hungry.
When dinner was over and the large family began to disperse, a young red-haired woman approached us. I only just noticed that Valentina’s eyes were almost black.
“Elvira, we need to have a serious talk,” the sorceress turned to my friend.
– About what? – The girl stared back in surprise.
“Yes, I’m interested too.” I stood up from the table and, walking around Hermione, stood next to Smith.
“Sergey told me that your friend has a rare gift for necromancy.” The witch’s eyes turned completely black, like pits into the abyss itself. Elvira hiccupped and hid behind me. “I need to check if that’s true.”
“I told your grandfather about Elvira and asked for help finding the teacher.” Mom quietly came up behind me and put her hand on my shoulder.
“You did the right thing,” the red-haired witch nodded to the platinum blonde. “In Magical Britain, this type of magic is strictly forbidden, and an untrained necromage is very dangerous. If her talent is confirmed, I’m ready to take the girl on as an apprentice. I’m currently training Nina, and in about five years she’ll be ready to defend her mastery. By then, Elvira will be older, and I’ll take her seriously. But first, everything needs to be verified.”
– And you? – I have doubts about the age of this young red-haired beast.
“I’ve been a member of the Necromancers’ Lodge for fifty years, and thirty years ago I received the rank of Master,” the woman answered proudly, pulling up the sleeve of her sweater to show us a tattoo of a cute pink bunny on the back of her forearm.
– What’s this? – My brain went into a stupor, and I stupidly pointed at the cute tattoo.
“It’s the symbol of our guild’s Russian branch.” Valya traced the tattoo with her free hand. “Isn’t he cute? Our branch is called Zayka.”
– Why that specific name? – What the hell is going on here?! Why is the necromancer’s symbol a pink thing?! Maybe Scum marked his slaves with a cute tattoo?! Like they don’t have a dark mark on their forearms, but a pink pony on their butt?!
“It’s simple. During the Witch Hunts, the Necromancer Lodge greatly discredited itself. All those hecatombs, mass raising of the undead in cemeteries, undead wandering through the forests, and even a few necropolises in Western Europe… Basically, our reputation wasn’t so great.” The sorceress grimaced as if she had a toothache. “So two hundred years ago, the Lodge’s leadership decided to change its image, replacing all the skulls and other horrors with cute little animals! For example, the symbol of the German branch is a red fox, and the symbol of Britain was a blue kitten!”
– And how? Did it help? – I muttered.
“Not really,” Valya sighed sadly. “Ignorance breeds fear, and fear has big eyes. The uninitiated think of necromages as dark and evil wizards, but that’s not true!”
“What’s so dangerous about an untrained necromage?” Smith peeked out from behind me and looked with interest at the red-haired witch’s tattoo.
“Without proper training, such wizards often go mad and start doing all sorts of evil,” the woman shook her head sadly. “Such mages often turn into mad liches and try to create their own necropolis, or they are devoured by the creations they raise. Necromancy is not a toy.”
“And how will the test be conducted?” Hermione’s eyes lit up; this study enthusiast is interested in everything new.
“It’s simple, we’ll call Nina now,” Valentina smiled predatorily and pulled a bayonet shovel from her pocket. “There’s an old cemetery nearby, we’ll dig up a fresher grave there and raise the infernal!”
After admiring our slack jaws and wide eyes, the Master of Necromancy burst into loud laughter. Incidentally, her voice was quite pleasant and melodic. When I realized it was a joke, I couldn’t help but laugh too.
“That’s enough laughing, there’s a diagnostic seal in the basement, let’s go.” The red-haired witch pointed to an inconspicuous door, then looked sternly at Hermione and me. “You can be there, but please be quiet and don’t disturb us!”
We nodded silently and followed Valentina, and Mom followed us. Strictly speaking, the “basement” here referred to a whole complex of underground chambers, and we descended quite deep before reaching a long stone corridor with a dozen metal doors inscribed with runes. The room we needed was the very first one on the right side of the stairs. The room turned out to be small, its stone walls and ceiling blackened by time illuminated by magical torches, and the floor so smooth it resembled a black mirror. In the center, I saw a complex thirteen-ray diagnostic seal, glowing with a milky white light.
“Elvira, remove all protective artifacts, they might interfere, and then stand in the center of the circle.” Valya nodded toward the shimmering image.
Smith quickly removed all her rings, earrings, and other jewelry, pulled the Miracle Phone from her pocket, and handed over this gypsy’s dream to me. Then she sighed heavily and stood in the center of the diagnostic seal. The red-haired witch waved her wand, and the glow intensified slightly. After a couple of minutes, everything returned to normal, and Valentina nodded.
– Is that all? – Elvira stared at the future teacher in bewilderment.
“What did you expect? Real magic always happens quietly and unnoticed. For special effects, go to Mosfilm.” Chernaya chuckled in response and smiled contentedly. “I do have a gift, and it’s a very powerful one, and most importantly, it’s neutral!”
“What if I don’t want to raise corpses?” Smith looked pitifully at the red-haired witch. “Do I have to work with the dead? Can I opt out?”
“Yes, please!” The Master of Necromancy shrugged. “There are many other directions.”
“Could you elaborate?” Hermione’s eyes were devotedly devouring the valuable source of information, and Elvira and I listened attentively.
– Hm… – Valentina thought for a moment and nodded to herself. – Girls, what do you know about necromancy?
“I read a couple of books on the subject in the family library, about exorcism and raising the dead.” “Actually, I wasn’t particularly interested in the subject; I didn’t have the strength for many spells yet, and I was just plain scared to do it without a mentor.”
“I see. Basically, necromancy isn’t just about creating necroconstructs; it’s primarily about communicating with the souls of the dead.” Valentina smiled contentedly. “In our Union, necromages serve in a special department of the prosecutor’s office and help solve particularly serious crimes. They summon the victim’s soul and learn a lot of valuable information about their killer. Recently, they caught the maniac Chepushilo! We also have liquidation units that assist Vityaz in exorcising evil spirits and bringing peace to self-raised cemeteries. Necromages also send restless souls beyond the Fringe.”
“So, I don’t have to raise the corpses?” Smith looked at the woman hopefully.
“Of course! Your gift is neutral, so you’re free to choose your own direction! You can work in investigations to summon the soul of the murdered, or their personal belongings. You can help restless souls who, for various reasons, cannot leave our world and travel beyond the Fringe.” The Master of Necromancy approached the girl and placed her hands on her shoulders. “And if you want to make the world cleaner and safer, I’ll teach you how to calm the undead, or, conversely, we’ll create necroconstructs. Maybe we’ll even create a bone dragon!”
– Can I think about it? – Elvira looked into the black eyes.
“Of course! Before sixteen, necromancy is out of the question! Mind and body need to be strengthened and formed!” The woman nodded contentedly. “How are you with Occlumency?”
“The girls gave me a few books and I read them in the evenings.” Smith looked down, but Valya looked up and gave me an extremely disapproving look.
“Rigel, Hermione, I have a very important task for you! It’s truly very important!” Black looked at us seriously and demandingly. “You must teach Elvira Occlumency, immediately! Put aside all other classes and devote all your free time to mind magic. By the time she’s sixteen, she should be an apprentice in mental magic!”
– Why such a rush? – Mom, who had been silent the whole time, asked.
“So she doesn’t go crazy! All necromages are highly sensitive to death magic. Soon she’ll start hearing voices from beyond the Boundary, and if she ends up in a cemetery… She might start digging up a fresh grave right there.” The red-haired witch looked extremely serious. “I constantly maintain a powerful mental block and simply ignore these whispers. This is the main reason why young necromages do all sorts of crazy things or commit suicide. Some start listening, while others, on the contrary, don’t want to listen to the strange voices in their heads anymore. After all, someone is screaming in pain, someone is begging for mercy, and someone is thirsty for blood and murder, and they can even whisper detailed instructions. Girls,” Valya looked Hermione and me in the eyes in turn. “If you value your friend, then devote all your free time to mental magic!”
“Okay.” We nodded in response at the same time.
– That’s what we agreed on! – Black smiled contentedly. – We’re done for today, let’s go upstairs.
After leaving the mansion’s basement, Hermione and I dragged Elvira to our room and explained the basics of Occlumency until late in the evening. Smith read the books we gave her, but she didn’t understand much and was too shy to ask. We also decided that we would spend at least an hour a day practicing mental magic at school; it would also be useful for Hermione and me. When our eyes were starting to droop, we went to our rooms—or rather, Elvira went to her room, while Mia and I quickly showered and went to bed. Flora, as usual, lay down on her mistress’s pillow, and Vasya wrapped his arm around me, snoring contentedly. In the Black Wyrm’s cottage, the snake calmed down a bit and stopped following me everywhere; Hermione and I, our familiars, spent almost all our time in our room and were reluctant to go outside, as it was so damn cold. Yawning sweetly and stroking my scaly face, I quickly fell asleep.
***
The rest of the holidays flew by, fun, and exciting! We spent every day with the Black children. We either had fun or learned from each other, had a blast flying on brooms, sledding, and finally finished building the ice castle, which we then destroyed during an impromptu snowstorm. The adults also participated in this snowy battle, while Maria, her mother, the Grangers, and the little ones watched the epic battle from the sidelines. In the evenings, we gathered in our room and studied the basics of mental magic, explaining things to Elvira that were confusing. Nina also joined our gatherings, telling us that she started hearing whispers at fifteen, and it was, to put it mildly, unpleasant. So she did everything she could to help her future colleague with her training, while simultaneously teaching us a lot of new things. The adults weren’t bored either; everyone found someone they liked, and in the evenings, they shared funny stories amidst friendly laughter. Overall, the holidays were a great success!
On my last day at the Black House, I headed straight after breakfast to see my great-uncle. My departure for Foggy Albion was scheduled for after lunch, which meant I still had time to talk. I’d packed my things the night before, so there was no need to rush. Knocking on the door, I pushed open the heavy door and entered the office. A powerfully built, dark-haired man with a serious, slightly displeased expression sat at the desk, sorting through some papers.
“Zvezdochka, is there something urgent?” Sergey looked up from the documents and smiled at me.
“Yes, Grandpa, I have one request for you.” The man sighed sadly at the word “Grandpa.” “Mom mustn’t know about this, I promise I’ll tell you everything later!”
– Go on… – Black took a cigarette out of his part-cigarette, lit it with his index finger and began to drill me with a demanding look.
– Anyway… – I took a deep breath: – I need your help…
