Chapter Twenty-One. Summer
"Here comes our daddy... Daddy, tell Masha to say 'Ouch'!
"Ooh...
"He's smiling! Look, he's smiling!
"Here's Eohaid! Smile for Daddy!
Six babies, that's a lot, a lot...
Lotta's son – Eohaid
Cephas Tolin" Meadow
Irma Nemova – Dagda
Venus Velosipedidi" Belenus
Marina de Ville – Cernunnos
Son of Elena de Ville – Nuadu
The wives insisted on the names of Celtic deities even before giving birth: they said that since we had a new world, we were essentially gods in it. The logic was ironclad: my ancestors created the world, and now we are working on its growth and many improvements. What could be more divine than that?
Moreover, they insisted that after my studies, I would need to change my name to the "correct" one. Not yet, though, as the name-changing ritual leaves a peculiar mark, and this could attract the attention of the management. They even considered changing their own names...
I just don't understand why Celtic? The Slavs were no closer to the Celts than to the Slavs, and they remained in Russia until the end of the seventeenth century. Moreover, they continued to meet later, marrying Rus men. They were called... guardians, I think... My comment sparked a lot of debate, and now my wives are digging through books.
The holidays were very difficult. No, I enjoyed holding my sons in my arms — it's great, especially when you've dreamed about it in your past life. But six babies... It's not even the crying, noise and diapers — magic makes those things almost a hundred times easier. But the necessary rituals...
Since I missed the births and the time immediately after, I now had to "confirm" my paternity by more cumbersome methods...
"You are blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, a part of my soul! I name you (that is, I confirm your name) Eohayd.
I take my son in my arms, having first cut my palms — the magic of Blood is very serious. Here the sun rises and...
"World, behold my son Eohayd! Behold!
I lift up the naked baby, showing him the rising sun of the new world... Although it is not yet the sun, but... a clot of Power, but not the essence. Then I place the child on the Altar so that he is nourished by the Ancestral magic from birth. Then I place him on the Cornerstone of the World so that he becomes part of it... And this is only a small part of the ritual, which took more than three days — drawing the Runes, fasting, then a special diet — I had to eat only herbs that grow in my/our World, and they are all magical for now (and will remain so for thousands of years; later, there MAY BE a division into "ordinary" and "magical" plants/animals/insects.
Then I had to repeat the ritual (separately!) with each of my sons... And again – but this time imagining them not in the World of Tally, but on Earth...
Between rituals, my wives taught me blood magic, herbology, shamanism... They taught me thoroughly, not like at Hogwarts. As "entertainment," I had to work with manure. Cephaya and Irma clung to it and categorically refused to sell even an ounce.
"You have to understand," Cefea would convince me between lovemaking, " it's so valuable! Plants grow from it even on Earth in non-magical places. Can you imagine how beneficial it will be in our world?
I gave in reluctantly — it was a very pleasant way to persuade me...
"I could make such potions out of it!" Irma rolled her eyes, "Oh, sweetie... more...
Well, you've convinced me...
On a pleasant note, after giving birth, my wives became completely sedate and extremely beautiful. Most of their complexes disappeared, so I had to work hard to prove that each of them had become an unprecedented beauty (which was true) and desirable. If it weren't for the help of Venus with her bisexual orientation, who managed to slightly... corrupt the other wives, I probably wouldn't have managed...
I shared this doubt with Marina — as a blood mage, she was quite competent in such matters.
"Ha-ha-ha!" she laughed, looked at me and... ha-ha-ha! You should have thought about it before, or else — six wives!
My face clearly lengthened, and Marina took pity on me:
"Calm down, it's just your hormones playing up, your body has recently undergone a change. And you need to 'prove' to each of them that they are now desired and loved, it's just your insecurities coming out.
My wife snorted:
"You should at least remember that our marriage is MAGICAL, and you're the head of the family.
I felt ashamed — a magical marriage basically implies "adjustment" and "alignment" of spouses with each other — including sexually. And if it's with me as the head of the family... It's a harem owner's dream — wives (or a specific wife) want exactly what their husband wants.
Despite the necessity of accepting my sons, the hassle with manure (the basilisk skins were still untouched), strengthening the manors and the world... As well as pleasant moments, such as bedtime fun... I travelled to Hogwarts with undisguised relief. All summer long, I didn't have a single free minute and even had to sleep on the Altar or the Cornerstone and eat grass. I grew tall, became excessively thin, and my Sid nature began to show more clearly. Oh well, according to "legend," I am a descendant of the Sids...
"It smells too much like herbs," Simon Hoff whispered to me as he greeted me at the station. I instantly activated one of my own artefacts and...
"It was boring, what can I say. Although there were some nice moments, it was summer after all...
Simon immediately picks up the game and we head for the carriage, chatting about "summer" topics. I'm lying, of course...
"Ugh, I almost didn't find it!" Ernie Smith burst in a few minutes later. "Can I join you?"
The boy looked serious, but the question was not a simple one — his "Will you take me?" meant not only the possibility of "joining" him in the empty seat, but also Patronage.
"Sit down," I nodded to him, "not quite the answer he wanted, but more like "I'll keep an eye on you, but I'm not against it in principle." I'm cautious with patronage because Ernie is Muggle-born and Muggle-raised. Someone like that could not only get himself into trouble out of the blue, but also drag me down with him. If he proves his ability to "stay out of trouble" while being such a candidate, then he's welcome. Where else can I go when Hogwarts is full of schemers who are capable of "playing the Ernie Smith card..."
No one else joined us in the compartment, although a seventh-year Ravenclaw with a couple of friends did pop in, raised his eyebrows when he saw our motley crew, and left. The trip went "as usual" — we chatted about nothing in particular, ate goodies from home, and played board games.
On the way out, I caught a glimpse of Tom. He smiled slightly at me and waved his fingers. He looked great — stronger, tanned and, most importantly, mentally rested. Even from a distance, I could sense that the constant tension had "let go" of him.
When he arrived at O'Malley's farm, Tom was a little intimidated — there were bad stories about farmers in the orphanage, and they looked quite stern.
"You look pale, child," Mrs O'Malley said disapprovingly after the introductions, "and thin. You need to be fattened up.
The unshaven Mr O'Malley nodded wearily, and Tom realised that they weren't harsh, just busy — it was summer, the busiest time of year for farmers.
"Pa..." a pretty red-haired girl of about nine rushed into the room, "Matilda's calf is coming!"
Immediately, there was a flurry of activity, and the large family (eleven children, including Dean, a first-year student at the local magic school) bustled about and ran to the cowshed. One of the family's five cows was having a difficult birth.
"We need a vet," sighed Mrs. Mr. squeezed the empty pipe between his teeth and dug his hand deeper into the cow, trying to turn the calf around.
"Tom, Tom!" Dean nudged Riddle in the side. "What would they do at Hogwarts?"
Tom remembered Kettleburn's lessons, where they had studied the birth of some magical (and non-magical) animals, and quoted the professor.
"Great! Let's do it!" Dean exclaimed. "You know how, right? Use magic!"
"Status..." Riddle said listlessly, slumping his shoulders.
"That's all?!" Dean was surprised. "Mum, tell me, our farm is registered with the magicians of Eirina***, we can do it!"
"You can," replied the mother of the family, " just be careful with your stick... Tom! You've already finished three courses, you know how to do it, don't you? "Well... yes...
The boy straightened his shoulders and smiled happily, pulling the stick out of its holder. If he could do magic here and they ASKED him to... It looked like he was going to have a good summer!
They saved the cow and her calf, and later Tom helped his hospitable hosts many more times. Where Muggles needed a tractor or a pair of horses, a wizard with a wand could do the same job in half an hour. The field was cleared of large stones, which were piled up and dragged to the house, where later (not without the help of Ridle!) another cowshed was built and a room was added to the house.
Dean beamed and followed the Slytherin around everywhere, diligently imitating him. O'Malley studied at the local St. Patrick's School, which was of a low standard, it must be said. The school was designed for people like Dean — that is, for "weaklings" who needed to be given some kind of magical education and, most importantly, instilled with respect for the Wizarding World. They studied there for five years, and the graduates were, at best, good enough for the third year at Hogwarts. However, at the same time, they also received a Muggle education, which was also of a low standard.
That's why a Slytherin became Dean's idol, his best friend and role model. Oh, Malfoy even changed his hairstyle! Flattered that someone was trying to emulate him for the first time in his life, Tom diligently taught the boy simple (anything more advanced would have been beyond him) but effective spells from the arsenal of Kettleburn and herbologist Jeff Macintosh.
Riddle even found time for wandless magic, for reading the treatises sent by Tally... For everything! And he could also perform miracles, run through the fields, play with the local children, help around the house — either with his hands or with magic! And family — the orphan boy saw for the first time what family relationships were like in a family that was poor but loving.
Bereginia*" something like the "Good Spirit of the Place," in many ways reminiscent of elves and sidhe. In Russian mythology, they often married humans, not only princes and boyars, but also particularly intelligent and successful merchants and even peasants (the latter not often). Interestingly, kinship with Bereginya (whether fictional or not) was highly approved of by the people. Moreover, it was perceived as something exotic, but quite familiar. Even at the beginning of the twentieth century, one could hear something like, "Yes, his grandmother is a Bereginya," and everyone would nod knowingly, as if to say, "It happens..." Or, as an alternative, "The Divny people" were last "seen" in the Urals in the 20th century.
There were unpleasant stories about farmers in orphanages**" In Europe (and not only there) until the 1970s, it was common practice to "rent out" children. Orphanage children were most often given to farmers, but sometimes to small craftsmen, effectively into slavery. Meagre food, living in a barn, and no opportunity to attend school were the norm. This was practised everywhere – in England, Germany, Austria, France, Norway, the United States, Switzerland, etc. This still exists today, albeit in a slightly modified form – that is, food and housing are more or less normal (food is cheaper now), but the authorities turn a blind eye to sexual abuse – as long as it is not foster parents, but "normal" guardians. Juvenile justice in the West is strange in general – children are often taken away from families that are NOT TOO well-off (or, more often, from families that are quite well-off) and given to professional guardians whose living conditions are MUCH WORSE – to the point where the guardians may be drug addicts, etc.
P.S. Anyone who wants to can dig around online; there's a ton of info on this topic.
Eirina***, Ireland.
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