Having given Caroline her last bit of homework and leaving her to sleep on the couch right at the base, I apparated back home. She could have gone to her place too, but considering that there would be problems with witchcraft due to magical supervision, she preferred to stay there, developing practical skills in magic and creating the basis for a future ritual.
She is quite capable of drawing figures and runes for a ritual on a smooth floor, for example, or mixing blood with various ingredients and bringing the resulting liquid to the desired condition. If we were taught how to make potions based on blood in potion-making classes... She would have been an excellent student, not a laggard.
It's sad, but our ministry in its current form will never go for it, despite all the usefulness of blood magic. Their tactics are extremely annoying - neither to themselves nor to people. In any case, in my secret villainous lair she can do whatever she wants with magic and nothing will happen to her for it, because the surveillance charms were not brought to the dense forest.
I myself also jumped a few blocks from home, onto the roof of a practically uninhabited house, and not right on my doorstep. I don't need trouble from the ministry, and it's not safe. What if someone prepared a trap for me? Healthy paranoia is the key to the survival of a dark mage. And any person, for that matter. But the main reason is, of course, surveillance from our illustrious ministry, yes.
As soon as three factors coincide, the tracker will immediately work. Three conditions that activate these nasty signal charms that cannot be removed (unnoticeably, for sure): First, these same-named surveillance charms cast on a half-kilometer area around the place of residence of an underage Muggle-born wizard. Second, a spell cast inside the coverage area, but the release of raw mana is, fortunately, ignored. The Ministry is far from omnipotent, fortunately for me. Well, the last point, but the most important one, is the wizard himself and his wand, located within the radius of coverage of the Ministry's signal network. The third point is the most problematic and contradictory. As if one person, quite competent, was responsible for debugging the first two, and an incompetent newbie was given the task of finishing the third. Or someone got into the well-oiled mechanism after it was created and cut out half the functions for the sake of economy. I wouldn't be surprised at all, to be honest. Yes, the Ministry was not a model of wealth and, oddly enough, it seemed to deliberately spend its funds on anything but something useful. How many absolutely useless departments they had... As if their main goal was to provide jobs for wizards, and the benefit from their work... Is it so important if you can occupy the wild minds of the younger generation with paperwork and bureaucracy?
Moreover, the Ministry monitors not only wand magic, but also magic created in the area as a whole. If it is designed as a known spell, then it is counted. The main thing is that the wizard's wand itself under surveillance is also within the coverage area. So even non-verbal wandless magic gets caught in the crossfire. Even if it was a completely different person who cast the spell, and you were just standing nearby...
If you and your wand are within the tracking radius when magic is performed, expect a check from the Auror Office and a letter with a written warning in the next fifteen minutes. A very stupid system, full of holes, rather interfering with normal life than really limiting young but resourceful wizards. The easiest way to cast magic even at home is to leave the wand outside the red zone, then one of the conditions for activating the alarm will not be met and the Auror Office will not know about the magic being performed.
The problem is that wandless magic is considered the lot of a talented minority for good reason. Or rather, an absolute minority. You really need to be able to focus your magic well, so that the mana invested in the spell does not scatter senselessly in the wind. The efficiency of wandless magic is simply terrible, I have seen this for myself. But I can do something. From the simplest spells.
Usually, the wizard's wand does a great job of this, being a sort of focal point and maximum concentration for the instant release of the wizard's magic. It is not so necessary for rituals, and an experienced ritualist can do without it at all, because magic must be gradually invested in a ritual.
So what is a wand? An ideal multifunctional tool. Humanity has risen above many other biological species thanks to its developed intellect and tools, without which humanity would still be crawling on trees, picking bananas, according to Darwin's theory.
A magic wand (as well as other concentrators with similar properties) is one of the fundamental pillars of the power of human wizards, and you should not give it up, even if you have achieved significant success in magic without it. I can give you an example. You can be an excellent hand-to-hand fighter, boxer, taekwondo, etc., which is certainly very useful, but why give up the opportunity to also carry a gun that you have permission to use? Even the Dark Lord won't launch an Avada from his hand.
Yes, your fists (conditionally) are always with you (unless they are cut off/broken), and a gun can be knocked out of your hands or taken away, but does this make it useless? No. This is a great example of when hand-to-hand combat skills can really come in handy. Use them to get your gun back or buy yourself some time, stun the enemy! Well, or break his neck, if you have enough strength. And then grab the gun anyway. Or better yet, hold it, fucking tight.
Achieving the same lethal result with your "bare" hands is a very difficult task. Developed Occlumency partially helps in this matter, closing the problem with mental concentration and calculations in the head (for example, for transfiguration), but without good control of magic inside and outside your own body, nothing will come of it anyway. You need practice, persistence, time and a pinch of talent.
By the way, about wands. Old Amos, and now me, the current one, had just a wonderful one. I know that all wizards say this about their magic wands, because they fit them perfectly and synchronize with them over time, but I mean an unusual core.
There is such an expression, "pulling a cat by the whiskers", well, the creator of my wand has reached a new level ... I would like to see that brave man who pulled the nundu by the whiskers! Nundu, bitch! One of the most dangerous magical creatures. Maybe they killed her first, of course, who knows, but killing a nundu to rip out her whiskers and make the core of the wand out of them... no less a feat, to be honest. In contrast to the unusual core, the material for the wand itself was the most ordinary maple. Although I like maples, I was expecting some elder, to be honest. But okay, that's just thinking out loud. It was perfect for malefics like me, so I can't complain.
The main thing is that this wand accepted me as its own. For it, I remained its only owner, which is nice. And this once again confirms my identity for everyone who might notice small discrepancies in my behavior. Although there are no such problems on the horizon yet, but you never know what might happen in the future?
Let's get back to the topic. The only way to bypass the restrictions is runes and rune arrays. Artifacts that work on runes also count. That is, almost all artifacts. The only way to protect yourself without having a wand at hand. But this is more of a loophole, a bug, and not a feature provided by the government for Muggle-borns. It would rather help noble gentlemen if they were really forbidden to cast spells outside Hogwarts, at home. For them, mansions are like one big rune array. In his own fiefdom, a skilled wizard becomes an order of magnitude stronger, and an inept one... Well, the grave will correct the hunchback.
If someone suddenly finds out that my entire house is covered in runes under a thin layer of plaster on the ceiling and load-bearing walls, and even under the floorboards...then they will definitely not pat me on the head, and then they will also amend the legislation, and ban Muggle-borns from this - once a precedent occurred, it can happen again. And they will definitely have questions about how such a young and common person like me got such knowledge, which is not included in the Hogwarts curriculum at all? And here you can't blame everything on Bathsheda, no matter how you look at it. I learned a lot on my own, from books, but I can't really explain where I got this knowledge from without voluntarily exposing the room - my greatest advantage, of course. It's better to admit that these books are from the forbidden section of the library. They were most likely copied from there, so I won't even lie. But the secret of my source of knowledge will remain unsolved.
It simply never occurred to "normal wizards" that some Muggle-born brat who hadn't even finished school would be able to create a pretty good defense system for himself at home. They would rather believe that I had sold out and had a secret patron with whom I had signed a contract for ten years.
And they can be understood, because there were not such obvious prerequisites for this, such as a banal lack of knowledge of ancient runes at the proper level and expensive ingredients. Ancient runes are also just an elective, many did not take it at all because of the complexity of the subject, preferring simple ones like Divination or the interesting and dangerous Care of Magical Creatures.
The main factor in the unreality and uselessness of implementing such an idea with my own efforts in the eyes of the respected public was the magical source. So the wizard drew the runes, built the defense, calculated everything perfectly, but here's the problem - where to power all this happiness?
Yes, the wizard can feed this magical system independently, by himself, becoming a kind of portable source of magic, but the heavier and more perfect the rune system, the wider its functionality - the faster the "temporary battery" will run out of steam, because the energy is not infinite, and the rate of natural mana replenishment will obviously be significantly lower than that consumed to maintain the system.
And this was a very serious problem. For example, a wizard went out and went about his business, leaving his home, what will happen to such protection? That's right, it will turn off as soon as he moves far enough from his abode. It's the same as cutting off the electricity supply to a modern apartment. No matter how good and high-quality the wiring is, no matter how expensive the electrical appliances are in your home, they all instantly become useless without electricity.
There is a similar principle here. No power supply from the magician or the magical source - no magic. Then the question arises: "Why the hell do I need such happiness then? It wasn't for nothing that I worked my ass off, constantly improving the protection at home?" And I'll tell you why I bothered so much.
In the event of an invasion or attack, I, of course, will not be afraid to use a wand, despite the ministerial prohibitions, but I have always been a supporter of the idea "My home is my castle", so if someone attacks me, they will encounter not a defenseless teenager, but a real dark wizard who can give a serious fight, because his own walls help him. Even if it is not for long, but in my hands will be, albeit far from a full-fledged, home-made, but a working security system of a simple estate. And this is already a decent help in a "shootout".
Oh, how the nerves and brains of many of my pure-blooded "great and mighty" classmates from old families would short-circuit. Yeah, if they knew that I practically put together a very simple, but first line of defense, like in their cozy mansions... And it's not that difficult, really. Yes, it's expensive, yes, you need to be able to think with your head and count well, but... Where did the defensive formations in their cozy houses come from, huh?
A long time ago, one of their ancestors really bothered and created everything from scratch. And then, over the generations, when a talented runologist or artefact maker was born into the family, he or she updated, refined and improved this defense. Like a wall, brick by brick, the old families erected their magical "walls" separating them from simple wizards, less fortunate or less diligent. I don't blame them, I would have done the same. In fact, I will do the same when I get my hands on an acceptable source. I will create a good defense, and then my children and their children's children will continue my work. What is the difference between wizards and ordinary people? Same old stories, only in profile. Some save gold and magical knowledge, others save green banknotes and connections for future generations to make their lives easier. The only difference, the variable that ordinary people lack, is the personal power of the wizard, which can allow him to get everything he wants, ignoring the impossibility of relying on the experience, knowledge and money of previous generations. That's what I'm striving for.
Although you know, I was unfair. Ordinary people may not have magic, but they still have other talents that can help them get on the social elevator and rise to the very top. It's even easier for them these days. Geniuses, sly men, careerists, bandits or simply determined and lucky people, all of them, with due skill and favorable development of events, can rise from the very bottom to where most ordinary people, even those with much better starting conditions, would never dare to look. There are countless such stories.
"But our bureaucrats, if you give them a reason, will grab you like pliers, trying to drag you to the bottom. They don't want to live like real wizards themselves, and they don't let others. Parasites. Okay, enough thinking about these idiots. I need to hurry, otherwise I'll miss breakfast."
I belatedly check the Muggle-repelling charms. Everything is fine, they didn't come off during the transmigration. And that happens sometimes. So, now I need to carefully use the fire escape that leads to the backyard. Descending a standard fire escape has long become a habit for me, since I prefer to choose exit points for myself on the roofs of buildings, not necessarily even abandoned ones, within a radius of several blocks from the house. And everyone in our area has more or less the same fire safety plan, which is very convenient. Was there one developer? Maybe.
A quick jog home helps clear my head and get my thoughts in order. I like to run. The wolf inside would have been happy if he hadn't been sleeping soundly and quietly, exhausted on the night of the full moon. Normal werewolves have a severe hangover the day after the full moon, like after a huge drinking binge, but I, on the contrary, am in a heightened mood and have energy to spare. My consciousness clears out a little from all the unnecessary chaff and minor problems, and it even becomes a little easier to think. That's exactly what I'm going to do. Thinking over my immediate plans, I mean.
I'll need to dig into the calculations a little more later to try to minimize the negative effects, although I've already wasted several weeks on this before voicing my idea to Caroline and deciding to take this step myself. I really didn't want to give up sweets, but nothing came to mind so far except to try to solve this matter by manipulating my black luck.
But so far I haven't managed to somehow influence it or set it in motion consciously. It seemed that it did not depend on my will, but I will continue to try. That is the downside of being self-taught. You have to learn everything yourself. Both with black luck and with dark rituals.
Yes, you can learn a lot from books and work on it with practice, but not always. Some nuances remain unknown to me, and for some my gaps in knowledge of magic may seem funny and stupid.
What causes me a kind of stupor, leading to a dead end, some noble weaklings can know and consider something so natural that it is not even worth a simple mention, because it is the basis of basics.
Previously, I often suffered because of this approach, which was entirely used in ancient tomes and grimoires of wizards of the past, but I have already gotten used to it a little.
I confess, but it warms my soul a little to know that most of the aristocrats will never use this knowledge, leaving it to gather dust on the forgotten shelves of their deep memory, because dark rituals are too dangerous for home kids like them.
One mistake - and the consequences will be catastrophic. I have insurance in the form of black luck, but for others, not everything is so rosy. So the rich and eminent sons and daughters of ancient families prefer not to risk their skin for a pitiful increase in strength.
Why? They have everything under control. Unlike me, they don't have to think about survival and strain their veins trying to scrape a few more life-giving drops of magical power from Darkness and Fate. In extreme cases, if it gets really tough, they can hire an experienced ritualist, buy expensive ingredients and get the desired result.
This, however, is far from affordable for everyone, even among purebred families. The aristocrats have become shallow these days, after two wars in a row. The long branches of their family trees have been mercilessly cut, and some ancient giants have been completely torn out by the roots and burned to the ground.
The ingredients for rituals are obtained by hunters and poachers at the cost of risking their own lives, so they cost a lot, and there are no good ritualists left in Britain, thanks to our own ministry, which has started a real hunt for them, so they will also need to rustle through their connections abroad. Another item of additional expenses.
In short, many simply consider such a waste of resources inappropriate. Except that the Blacks, as they practiced ritual and dark magic independently centuries ago, still practice to this day. More precisely, they do not practice it anymore, since almost all of them died out.
Sirius and Bellatrix are in prison, so Narcissa, perhaps... Although, Bellatrix is no longer Black, and her sister is a Malfoy, and they do not necessarily encourage the performance of dangerous dark rituals. On themselves. They already have problems with births in their family due to the mistakes of the past, there is no need to make it worse. It's all sad, in short.
Maybe, just maybe, Bathsheda understands dark rituals, but it's not certain. I'll have to find out for myself, even at the risk of losing the good graces of this fire-maned beauty. Oh, if only I had a real teacher… like Babbling. Oh, she would have taught me something bad, yes, yes. That's the kind of thing when you want to be depraved, heh-heh. I mean, even more.
I got home just in time, exactly at eight in the morning. Mother left for work at half past eight, so we had our usual breakfast together and discussed the latest news in Britain, sipping tea with warm buns sprinkled with cinnamon. Mother accepted me the same way a magic wand did – exceptionally well. It's good to be a teenager in the midst of puberty, there can be no questions about a slight deviation in personality. Their character breaks quickly, like a voice, rebuilding and forming into its final version of itself.
Having finished an extra portion of the delicious pancakes with jam that came with the bun and seeing Hecate off to work (the same driver always comes to pick her up in a brand new company Mercedes), I went to my room to catch up on some sleep.
It makes sense, after all, I'm a dark mage, when else can I sleep? Only during the day, like a real vampire. Although vampires are more about Carol, but if you dig deeper, I'm actually closer to the creatures of the night now, right? In the evening, I needed strength for a slightly different kind of hunt, so I fell asleep quickly and without problems.
***
Using the services of the famous London taxi, driven by an ordinary Indian, who, however, spoke English very fluently, so there's no point in complaining, I got to my destination without incident or problems, which is why I love taxis. If I had been here before, I could have gotten there by apparation, saving about forty minutes, but London is a huge city, it is simply impossible to look around and remember every nook and cranny. Okay, maybe if you kill a lot of time on it and thoroughly load your brain with occlumency. There was also an option with artifact anchors, but they were very expensive to produce and I preferred to use them for other needs and in other places.
It was already a bit chilly at night in London for this time of year, but people who were eager to have a good night out drinking and having fun with friends and girlfriends were still dressed lightly, in summer clothes, although some could already be seen wearing light jackets or thin autumn coats. But mostly people seemed to not want to let go of the last moments of warmth and denied the approaching cold with all their might. But no matter how much you deny reality, you still can't escape it, so sooner or later it will catch up with you and crash into your soft, pliable flesh with its sharp teeth. But the sobering pain will wake you up from sweet dreams and illusions.
I chose this club for a reason. Since the evening I tried to use my intuition and luck, hoping that at least something would work out for me. I acted on a hunch, but it seems that my choice was right.
In front of me was a pretty decent establishment, with its own special flavor. The security guard at the entrance only glanced at me with an inspecting glance, but, not finding an assault rifle tucked into his pants, let me into the club, receiving his honest twenty pounds of gratitude for skipping the queue.
I would even call this place more of a bar than a full-fledged club. A bar-club? Not bad.
Rumor has it that they served pretty good drinks here, and instead of the ear-tearing newfangled musical motifs, the management preferred to play good old and new epic rock.
Local rock bands often played here. Just like today. They provided the establishment with another tick - "live music" in the list of its advantages. Much more space in the establishment was occupied by small comfortable tables, where companies gathered or singles sat, sipping alcohol, than a dance floor, which made me incredibly happy.
It is not proper for a dark mage to twitch like an epileptic among a crowd of mere mortals. Just kidding, I just dance badly, and this concerned both Amos and Alexander before their complete synchronization, and we did not like this business. Alcohol and new acquaintances in such places always interested me much more. After all, that is why I am here today, isn't it?
In general, you can expect anything from a dark mage, because if I do not disdain to kill, even my direct enemies (not direct ones either), and I indulge in forbidden rituals and curses, then the question arises - how far can I go, right? But I did not consider murder such a terrible deed, because I knew that, with a high degree of probability, this was not the end. There are much worse things than killing your neighbor.
After all, what could be simpler than going into a club and finding a pretty girl in a couple of minutes, then working her with Legillimency, slipping her some Amortentia, or making it even simpler and hitting the victim with Confundus and then Obliviate? Then do whatever you want with the pliable flesh.
But I still have a little bit of conscience and pride left. At the bottom, but there are boundaries that I will never cross. This is simply completely disgusting to me. And why should I resort to such simple and vile methods if I can achieve everything myself, on my own, spending a little of my time and pounds on extra cocktails? I never considered myself a great ladies' man, but I was not a shy schoolboy either.
What good are my looks, money and charisma to me if I am not going to use them for their intended purpose? You have to hunt honestly, otherwise what's the point? But the prize in the end will be much sweeter, if you speak the language of the wolf. You can feed a werewolf a store-bought beef tenderloin, and he will be full, but will he be satisfied? No, he won't. Without a night hunt, it won't be the same. Apparently, I still took something from him in terms of character, but I can't say that I regret it.
After a couple of glasses of gin and tonic, I had more or less settled in here and had managed to get used to the loud music and the acrid cigarette smoke hanging in the air. Damn it, I wish the liberals would ban smoking in public places and introduce their exorbitant fines. My sensitive nose is simply in terrible horror. But as I said, I've gotten used to it. I set a goal for myself while looking around, sitting at the bar, studying the assortment of local cocktails. Whiskey and cola looked tempting.
At one of the side tables, by the wall, a new group of very pretty young girls settled down, obviously celebrating something - they appeared in the club a little later than me - I decided to try to hit on them, because one of the four girlfriends was more to my taste, and I quickly declared her the target of my hunt for today. A careful glance managed to catch what drinks they preferred, so I decided not to hesitate and get down to getting acquainted, slightly guiding the bartender's hand and pointing him to the right table. In a few minutes, a wide range of all sorts of cocktails would be ready, which would allow me to secure a place at their table.
I noticed that I was not the only one looking at the newcomers (as if I was not new either), so I needed to hurry before someone more impudent stole my chance for a pleasant end to the night. They had already sent a couple of bearded bikers in leather jackets and ripped jeans. Why would they need leather gloves in a club, Mordred take them. Clowns. Apparently, the girls thought the same, or maybe they didn't like their advances, which, unfortunately, I couldn't hear because of the loud music, but I did notice that they didn't even think to treat the girls to drinks! Horrible. Haven't they watched movies?
The girls were quite welcoming to me. Of course, I looked pretty good, young, not drunk yet, not swaying from side to side, dressed decently and obviously well-off, since I ordered a battery of alcohol for the entire, now our, table. It would definitely be hard for them to find a better option here and now than me. They understood that too.
The only thing that slightly darkened my mood was that at first some dubious characters kept coming up to us, who clearly thought that four pretty girls were too many for one young and daring me. They graciously offered their services as gentlemen, but were misunderstood. Unfortunately for them, we were sitting too comfortably and the girls were not yet interested in making new acquaintances, so they sent them to hell, and then I even quietly hung a diversion on our table and we were no longer distracted from our pleasant conversation.
In general, it was a rather funny situation. Three out of four girlfriends were clearly interested in deepening their relationship and further acquaintance with such a wonderful me, including the birthday girl. Charlotte, that was the name of this girl with luxurious golden curly hair, flirted shamelessly and tried to attract my attention, but here's the problem, I was only interested in the very same girl who initially attracted my attention.
Damn paradox, but she didn't seem particularly interested in the conversation, and in general, it seemed, she wasn't particularly happy to be here. Apparently, her friends dragged her here, having persuaded her or pressed on her pity.
I had to turn on my charm to the maximum, connect jokes and, in complete despair, even small alcohol tricks, such as setting fire to and then drinking our drinks with the help of a small magical illusion of green flame. Luckily, I was sitting comfortably and no one noticed the careful movements of the magic wand under the table. My three sincere fans admired and rejoiced like little children, praising my abilities as an illusionist. What irony. What you won't do to drag a pretty girl into bed. However, they didn't need much to be happy, considering the already quite decent degree of alcohol in their blood. I even got a little tipsy, and I periodically cast a light poison cleanse on myself so as not to lose control of myself and not to embarrass myself even more.
However, over time I managed to get the attention of Felicity - that was the name of the brunette beauty, dressed like a freaking rockstar, with a certain pleasant shade of gothic style. I really liked it.
A black pleated knee-length skirt, high laced boots, from under which black fishnet stockings peeked out, a dark blue T-shirt with an image of a silver guitar neck, and a leather jacket, completing a certain rebellious image. She looked exactly nineteen or twenty years old, like her friends.
I especially liked the way the black lipstick looked on her neat lips, which, in combination with dark mascara, advantageously set off the girl's pale and smooth skin in contrast. Her eyes were the same rich black color as mine. Sometimes, due to the play of light from the poor lighting of the club, it seemed to me that they gave off some kind of dim reddish glow in the very depths of the pupils. But this was most likely just a game of my imagination. However, I liked even this about her. A certain mystery. There was something about her that riveted my gaze from the very beginning. And her name... Felicity - luck, is this not a sign?
I didn't think that my black luck could throw me something worthy in terms of love, to be honest, but I'm glad. Such wonderful versatility.
Could my unconscious desire set her in motion and create ideal conditions for meeting? I don't feel any particular changes yet, but I can't be sure that they aren't happening. I'll definitely check later.
It may be that our meeting is nothing more than a simple coincidence, but... Oh, what difference does it make, I was interested in her long before I knew her name. And in general, am I not attaching too much importance to the semantic meaning of the name of a girl I met for the first time today? It looks more like I'm just passing off wishful thinking as reality and really want to attribute a couple more useful functions to my luck. I don't think everything is as good as I would like it to be.
I honestly tried to devote time to my three blonde girlfriends so that they wouldn't feel abandoned and not put themselves in an unflattering light in front of the friendly company, but my gaze always involuntarily slid to their less bright and talkative, slightly phlegmatic, but even more intriguing friend.
Initially, the petite brunette, apparently, simply did not want to compete with her friends for a cute guy, especially with the birthday girl, but when she realized that I clearly had my eye on her and was ignoring direct hints and flirting from her friends, skillfully playing the fool when necessary, she thawed a little and also joined the conversation, shooting me with her eyes. Perhaps she liked one of my jokes, or maybe a little trick with cocktails, it does not matter, the main thing is that I was given the green light. All that remained was to consolidate the success.
Felicity drank the least of all, slowly sipping only her fourth Bloody Mary, so she was on equal terms with me and I still managed to incite her to a frank and quite meaningful conversation.
The topic for the beginning was a simple rock band performing on a small stage, replacing the previous, quite tolerable one. So we counted all their mistakes together. Nothing unites like a common enemy, ha-ha. The lead singer was slacking off, and with each passing hour, more and more, apparently also indulging in alcoholic courage along with the rest of the visitors.
A little while later, we didn't even notice how we jumped from topic to topic, because we quickly got bored of pouring shit on the long-haired guitarist with a false voice and an out-of-tune guitar. The topic shifted to other famous rock bands and we were even ready to plunge into the abyss of discussions and arguments, when Felicity's friends, jealous of me, unceremoniously butted into our sweet conversation, pushing her into the background in the conversation, as only girls can do. Almost imperceptibly, insidiously, they talked to me with their teeth, despite the fact that they were already very drunk.
I winced when I realized the situation a couple of minutes later, but I couldn't really do anything. Get involved in a girl's squabble? No way. I'll end up the one who gets into trouble if they start arguing. They'll sort it out themselves.
Oh, I knew it. Felicity got up from the table and went to powder her nose, which was very pretty and neat, by the way. Quite powdered, in my opinion, hmmm. As she passed me, she casually leaned on my shoulder and held her hand a little longer than necessary, lightly stroking my back with her thumb. I looked back at her to see if she would look back. She did and I managed to catch her sly smile. The girl winked at me and disappeared from sight.
Well, you definitely don't need to be a genius to understand that this was a completely understandable sign. I waited a couple of minutes, for the sake of secrecy and decency, and then I apologized, informing the beautiful ladies that I had to leave them for a while and visit the restroom. Before leaving, I renewed the Muggle-repelling charms on our table, just in case. We still had enough alcohol, so they wouldn't need a bartender for now, and we didn't need any other people.
And, of course, everything couldn't be as simple as it is for all normal people. In the corridor, near the women's restroom, the girl I had my eye on was being squeezed by a couple of drunk bikers. Looking closer, I recognized those pathetic losers whom my new acquaintances had turned down at the very beginning.
Felicity didn't look particularly scared, rather annoyed and irritated by this situation, for which I mentally gave her another plus. She wrinkled her cute little nose and leaned her back against the wall, trying to keep her face away from the rather stale breath of the bearded man in the leather jacket hanging over her. I think she would have called for help already if they hadn't covered her mouth with a hand. The guards with truncheons would have given these degenerates a good go, but they were well aware of this, so they decided not to give her a chance to scream.
Here, in the corridor, the music was no longer so loud, and my hearing could quite clearly catch a fragment of the incoherent drunken speech of this tipsy or stoned individual and the vulgar giggling of his friend, who had specially positioned himself in such a way as to cover the view of what was happening with his broad back. But he wasn't doing his job very well. I saw everything I needed to and my eyes began to be covered with a red veil. I hate rapists!
-... come on, don't hesitate! A hundred pounds, he-he-he, aren't lying around on the road, yeah. Serve us both with your pretty mouth in the toilet and then go to your cute boyfriend. Just don't forget to put lipstick on your lips later, otherwise you'll leave all your black lipstick on our cocks, and he'll figure it out, he-he-he! - the first body proclaimed its ultimatum, continuing to shamelessly feel the struggling girl's breast with its hand. This cunning bastard stood half-turned, clearly taught by bitter personal experience, so the "knee to the balls" technique was useless. Or did he turn around because he had already managed to get a punch in the balls from Felicity?
The people passing by, as always, didn't give a damn about everything around them, as long as it didn't concern them personally. How familiar. Oh, this human society... It's good that there are no mobile phones with cameras yet, otherwise these "passers-by" would have started filming.
But the bastards were unlucky today, their luck turned away from them and the time of black luck came, because it concerned me personally and my prey. No one dares to encroach on my prey!
Having flown up behind the friend of this suicide bomber, I quietly whispered a curse on the move, which lay on the energy of both freaks, like a glove. Wow, well, well, they must have managed to do a lot of things, that the analogue of magical syphilis stuck to them so well. It must have joined its biological brother. Or maybe there is something else there, otherwise I just don't understand why a curse of average complexity would suddenly screw itself so deeply into their very essence.
Disgusting. And these cliched bastards not only wanted to discredit my beauty (and I already considered her mine, at least for the next short period of time), but also to infect her with such crap? Disgusting scum.
Well, no, we need to speed up the progression of the disease a little for these lovebirds, otherwise they might have time to please someone else with their bouquet of anything but violets. Let's add a little mana. Yeah, considering that I'm still going to give them a couple more fractures now... By the time they can walk on their own again, their bouquets will have completely wilted, heh-heh.
A kick from behind to the knee of the first bastard puts him to rest with a pleasant crunch. He fell as if mown down. I'm very merciful today, so I put him to sleep right at the moment of the blow, so that he didn't even feel the pain, smashing his forehead on the tile. Why did I put him to sleep? So that he doesn't squeal and make noise. I don't need that. I know these types, they gather in groups like hyenas, attacking the weak, but if there are enough of them, they can be brave enough to fight a lion.
Their friends, security, other visitors and onlookers might gather at the screams, and then I'll have to worry too much about all of this. What if there are ten or twenty of them? I'll expose myself too much. Magic is magic, but Aurors might drop in for a visit, not to mention the possibility of meeting another adult half-breed or Muggle-born here.
The second freak barely had time to understand what was happening when he received a beautiful, clear kick right in the cheekbone. Is it for nothing that I go to taekwondo? Even though I only have the opportunity to visit the dojo in the summer, and not always, I still continue to train at least a little. It was lucky that Alexander was also interested in taekwondo, and more professionally, because he did not have to spend almost all his free time on magical research.
Well, yeah. Dentists are expensive these days, and he, apparently, now has a serious lack of teeth, organized with the participation of one dark and very evil wizard. I would have cursed him with something else, at the end, but secrecy was more important, so I had to hide the wand before anyone saw it. I only managed to throw a distraction on the area around us and that was it.
But of course, I couldn't just let him go, even without half the teeth in his mouth, because I had already mentally promised him a broken leg, so that he could enjoy the despair, lying in the hospital and slowly rotting and decomposing alive. Doctors won't help him, healers from Mungo's are needed here, but... Heh, where would they come from? Who needs this scum?
Plus, even if he had been put straight into St. Mungo's by some incredible means, the local artisans would have had to get to the bottom of it and cure the common syphilis first before they could find his magical twin. The curse itself may not be complicated, but I modified it a bit, so they would have had to poke around in it for at least a day. And that's time. Time that some people will no longer have.
Crunch. It was as if I had accidentally stepped on the shin of a man who had fallen into a saving oblivion. But it wasn't by accident, because I had put enough strength into it to shatter the bone. The ground is like glass wool for you, freak. Sooner or later, you were bound to run into someone who was too tough for you. Unlucky, you ran into me, so your death will be slow, painful and inevitable.
"Are you okay? Does anything hurt?" Stupid questions, I understand, but I had to say something. The expression of fury and anger on my face quickly changed to one of concern and sympathy. Thank you, Occlumency, because without you I might not have been able to hold back and finish off the bastards on the spot. There's no point in scaring the girl with your facial expression. I know that it can be very frightening at such moments. I don't know what's to blame, the aura of the dark mage or the wolf hidden inside me, but I don't want to show that side of me yet. The less you know, the better you sleep.
"Thank you. Everything is f-fine." the girl answered with a slightly trembling voice, peeling herself away from the wall and hesitantly approaching me, adjusting her raised T-shirt as she went. She stopped next to me hesitantly, bit her lip and stared at the floor.
"It's okay, everything will be fine. I'm here." I took the initiative and lightly, very carefully and tenderly hugged the girl, afraid to scare her away. You need to be very careful with touches now. She pressed herself trustingly against my chest, like a frightened doe, and clutched my hand with her cold fingers, seeking protection and support.
Her shoulders shook a little from nerves, but she wasn't crying or hysterical. She was just shaking a little from the stress she had experienced. Strong. She just needed a firm shoulder for a minute to come to her senses.
As I thought, she quickly pulled herself together and moved away a little, but she didn't let go of my hand, continuing to squeeze my palm. For the first time that evening, a weak but sincere smile appeared on her face. And I had already thought that she didn't know how to smile. My black heart even skipped a beat, she was so beautiful now. Sweet.
"Thank you, my knight. How can I thank you?" she asked coquettishly, lowering her eyes and looking up at me from under her thick black eyelashes. She recovered quickly, I didn't expect that.
"Well, I'm certainly not a knight... except maybe a dark knight." I thought. "Am I Batman? No, it would be more correct to say Badman. Well, it doesn't matter. I have a real chance to spend not just one random night of passion, but to get a girl on this side of the non-magical world. At least I can count on something more than a drunken hookup in a hotel. I'll have to change my plans a little, I guess. I hope it's worth it."
"Oh, this knight is very unpretentious and wouldn't ask for a reward, but... Since the lady of my heart is proposing herself... How about a kiss, or, even more preferably, a date?" I decided to play along a little, if that's what she likes, and threw in the bait.
If she chooses a date, that would be great, because constant sex is better than a one-time thing, but if it's a kiss... Well, that means I'm unlucky and I'll only get one. Not today, though, I'm not a monster to drag her to a hotel right after what almost happened to her.
One-time sex is also not bad, because that's what I came here for, actually, but I don't want to let such a cutie go, and with good taste and, if you believe her earlier statements, who can cook pretty well. Probably, it's something from ancient instincts. Saved the girl, so she's yours now, right? Something like that. Although I'm above instincts, I'm a wizard. Okay, so far I won't drag a beautiful female into a cave.
The girl bit her lip and rose on tiptoe, lightly kissing me on the lips. Not even a French kiss. A bad sign, it seems. Too bad, I hoped that I would be able to build on my success and start some kind of relationship. Apparently, it's not meant to be. I'll have to drag myself to the hotel with one of her friends. Or maybe with three at once, who knows? If there are three at once, then this should somehow compensate me for the fact that this is not Felicity.
She carefully pulled away and looked closely into my black eyes, smiling slyly, noticing the disappointed expression on my face, and squeezed my hand with her claws.
"The day after tomorrow I'm free." She blinked her eyelashes sweetly and innocently, this sly snake, but you can't fool me. If only she'd hidden her victorious grin! Look at me, I found a joker. Wait for me, I'll get to your ass and then...
"At six in the evening I'll wait for you at the central fountain in Green Park. From there we'll walk to a good French restaurant nearby." I suggested and confirmed. Unable to resist, I decided to take revenge on this brat and pulled the girl by the waist to me, kissing her on her neat little nose. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't have time to get scared, I quickly gave her freedom, no longer holding her back. She chuckled contentedly, but did not move away.
"Okay. I'll try not to be more than half an hour late," this easy-going person added a hint of sarcasm to her voice. She's joking, so it's okay. She was joking, right?
"Women... Is it really true that if you start showing up for dates on time, the sky will fall on our heads and judgment day will come?" I grumbled, more for the sake of form, but I was actually quite pleased with myself. It had been a long time since I'd asked anyone out on a date. Amos, never. Except for that time under that spell...
"Who knows? I had no idea you were so religious." The girl smiled and dragged me by the hand back to the common room.
I almost choked with indignation. Religious? Me?! Ahahaha, you had a good joke.
We decided to leave this corner just in time, all sorts of onlookers started looking in, security guards ran past us. The world is not without good people, however. Apparently, someone still guessed to call the establishment's security. Well, at least that. Two slightly dented vegetables on the floor did not contribute to a romantic atmosphere in any case, so a change of scenery was the right idea.
- Probably, we should wrap it up. These oafs may well have other friends here. For the next couple of weeks, it would be better for you and your friends to avoid this place, or better yet, forget about it altogether. I'll call you a taxi. If you want, I can walk you home. - I decided to wrap it up while the three blondes could still move on their own two feet. I think. I have no desire to drive them all. Some of them were so drunk that they might puke in the taxi, and I don't need that. But I would walk Felicity home, yes. I would even go for a cup of coffee if she has no one at home right now.
I won't impose myself on her either, though, otherwise it will look strange and inappropriate. She's a grown-up girl, she can walk from the taxi to the threshold of her own home.
- Mmm, yes, you're right. I'll explain the situation to my friends. Thank you again, you're our savior today. My savior. But you don't need to walk me home, I'm a big girl now. Calling a taxi will be more than enough for us. I'll make sure these drunk fools get home myself. I'm afraid that if you go with us, they'll start pestering you. - I was awarded another fleeting kiss, but this time on the cheek. As I thought, my services were unobtrusively refused. Expected. However, I didn't think she'd start being jealous of me so early. Oh well, no big deal.
Quite satisfied with my life, I began to implement my plan and dialed the number of an elite taxi service. At least somewhere I can throw money around, and not beg for magical reagents in the dense forests.
After I got rid of three golden-haired problems and Felicity, I looked at the clock. It was only five o'clock in the morning, so there was still plenty of time until eight.
Having figured out whether it was worth returning to the base today or whether to prefer a healthy sleep today, like a normal person, I came to the conclusion that sleep is still useful, even dark magicians need it. So, first home!
***
The next morning.
Hecate Sunhide was a little puzzled by the doorbell ringing, distracting her from the stove. The kitchen smelled pleasantly of bacon and eggs frying in a frying pan.
She didn't have visitors very often, so Miss Sunhide's surprise was understandable. Her son only had visitors a couple of times a year. Maybe his classmate, Caroline.
In any case, no one had ever visited them so early in the morning... She looked at her watch. Half past seven. It was still too early for her beloved son to return, and he wouldn't call anyway, he had his own keys.
Looking through the peephole, she saw a pretty brunette, about twenty years old, in a decent red and black dress, held in place by a leather belt. The girl looked neat and didn't look like a representative of some advertising company handing out leaflets. The only thing that bothered her was her excessive clothing and her choice of lipstick. True, black suited her, but it was still a pretty bold decision. After thinking for a bit, Hecate finally opened the door.
- Good morning, can I help you with something? - the woman asked politely, smiling good-naturedly. A smile never hurt anyone.
- Oh, good morning. My name is Felicity Cinder, I'm a friend of your son's. He said I could find him here if he needed me, so here I am. Did I come at the wrong time and he already managed to run off on his own business? - the girl had a pleasant, but slightly cool voice. Like a draft blowing cold air into a heated room through a crack in the door. In general, her voice evoked a rather ambiguous feeling.
- Mmmm. Really? He should be back soon. Amos... went for a morning jog. - Hecate decided to answer with a half-truth. After all, he really would be back soon, and his return was usually associated with a jog. And the fact that at this time, on the contrary, he was only returning home, and not leaving, was not necessary for his new acquaintance to know. And anyway, her son is only fifteen, and the guest is no younger than eighteen!
"Oh, what morals these days. But Amos certainly has good taste," the woman noted, assessing the very pleasant appearance of this Felicity. Her face stood out especially.
"Yes, almost as beautiful as me," the woman noted modestly.
"Oh, how awkward. Then I'll wait for him outside...
"No, no, what are you saying, come inside. We were just about to have breakfast. Wait for him here. Amos doesn't have many friends, so I'll be glad to hear how you met." The elder Sunhide stepped aside, making an inviting gesture. Curiosity overcame her natural suspicion. Her son did not often talk about his life at Hogwarts, and even with pincers it was impossible to get anything out of him about the girls he liked. But she was interested to know how things were going with him on the love front! He had a good upbringing, and he wasn't short on looks, so she was sure that he had no shortage of classmates at school. Unless Carol scared them away, of course. Well, it turned out that he liked older girls, something new and interesting.
"Thank you," the brunette raised her left hand to her mouth, as if she was going to cover her smile with her fingers out of habit, but she didn't. Her hand froze halfway, near her heart. A barely noticeable smile slowly crept across her face, but for some reason it sent shivers down Hecate's spine. Sometimes Amos smiled like that when he was deeply thinking about something of his own, something magical, but he was her favorite child and she didn't take seriously the ominous feeling that sometimes emanated from him at such moments. Love is blind. The girl's black, bottomless eyes seemed to catch a matte red gleam from her cherry-colored dress, "Then I will take advantage of your ~hospitality~." Hecate could not see this, since the guest's right hand had been behind her back the whole time, but the thin girlish fingers that were clutching the cold handle of the pistol moved slightly, quietly clicking it off safety. The girl entered the house. The door slammed behind her.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Join my patreon to read ahead of schedule
Patreon: ICEE_CREAM