Holidays that are not holidays

 Chapter Seven. Holidays that are not holidays

 Europe is off limits to me; this has been made quite clear. Perhaps I am exaggerating the danger, but when you have NO ONE behind you and you have a pretty good idea of what the Ahnenerbe did, you don't want to take any chances. Maybe later, when I can find some kind of intermediary, I'll venture into the "beehive," but for now, no.

 It's so frustrating, because if it weren't for that, how many mages I could have saved from experiments, how many I could have taken off the sacrificial stone... Moreover, such charity would have turned into all kinds of Life Debts from the mages, which are never superfluous, as well as bonuses from Magic itself for saving their Children. And I had so many plans...

 However, the plans haven't gone anywhere, I just wanted to play with hindsight and other things, but it wasn't meant to be. I'll still save mages, just a lot less, maybe even half as many. 

 But never mind, Europe can wait — luckily, I have my own agents among the Muggles. They may be much less powerful than mages, but they hardly attract any attention. 

 Imperius? What are you talking about, it's... Superficial Legilimency, and if the Muggle being checked has certain key thoughts, then it's extended. There are plenty of people who want to "fish in troubled waters" in the coming events, so interference with consciousness is almost unnecessary — there are more than enough candidates as it is. Then there's that "almost" and... Tracking such interference, if carried out by a specialist of my level, is possible, but extremely problematic — it requires an excellent mentalist of Master level and a lot of time to check each suspect. 

 Even if someone is found, it won't bother me in the slightest — I won't be able to connect them to me, and I don't have any networks with residencies and other nonsense. Several dozen or even hundreds of agents may seem like a serious task at first glance. But most of them will be "sleeping" agents who "wake up" under strictly defined conditions. Once they have completed their task, they "fall asleep" again for weeks, months, or even years. I'll be lucky to recruit a dozen or two active agents — after all, when you see Muggles as expendable, there are downsides to that... Damn my upbringing — in theory, I'm ready to destroy all Muggles as "degenerates," but in reality, I try to protect "my" people (even if they don't know about it) in every way possible. And this despite the fact that three-quarters of them are not people of the highest moral character... 

 Hmm... I wonder if this is a consequence of my Muggle upbringing or if it's just my nature as a sidekick? If it's the latter, it could be confirmation that I belong to the Good Court*... Or not?

 Rituals again — I really need to find out in which areas I have the right to intervene in Reality and in which I don't. No sacrifices this time, although blood will be necessary, but only my own. 

 It is night, the moon is full, and a naked boy is walking around the Small Altar with a flint knife in his hands. 

 "War!" I shout loudly in every language I know, cutting my left wrist with the knife and sprinkling the altar with blood. I freeze, listening to my senses... It hurts, but not too much — that means there is still a chance to somehow contribute to the victory over Grindelwald, albeit a slim one. Right... let's leave it for next time, otherwise there won't be enough blood for all the questions... 

 "Gold!" I cut my right wrist. A response... positive! Good — material possessions will come in handy. Now for the amendment — how can I earn it? I cut my skin again, but this time in my groin — property and the continuation of the family are closely linked... then I splash the blood on the altar. The blood splatters in tiny drops on the basalt surface — it's clear, small injections into different areas, the answer is clear, I won't become a monopolist or a serious player in business.

 "Creativity!" I cut my skin under my heart and spurt... Not enough... I lie down on the surprisingly hot stone. It's harder here, so the response doesn't come right away. Music... no... fashion... no... books... I get up and make a cut near my solar plexus, lie down again... Books – plagiarism is allowed, but only those that cannot have a very strong influence on society. Roughly speaking, "Karlsson" is okay, but "The Old Man and the Sea" or "The Catcher in the Rye" are not. 

 That's enough — I have a child's body, so there's not much blood. I get up from the altar, the blood has already soaked into the stone. I wince — the stone didn't feel hot, it was just like that, so in addition to the cuts, I need to treat the burns. I've already come out of my trance, and the burns on my chest, stomach and especially in my groin are very unpleasant.

 I don't think twice about whether to plagiarise or not — I need money and a certain amount of fame in the Muggle world. I am officially registered in the Muggle world, like most magicians. It's not that I really need it... but when you need it, in most cases it's easier to have documents and a full "legend" than to run around like an Obliviate and do things like that.

 A few visits to an interesting agency that looks after the interests of wizards in the Muggle world... and "Pippi Longstocking" is released in Sweden before the end of the summer. 

 In Sweden, because I remember that this country is supposed to be neutral and trade with all participants in the upcoming war. Accordingly, no one will be ashamed to print "Pippi," and most importantly, to pay for it. Cynical? So what?

 After reprinting all parts of "Pippi" and sending them to the agency, I spend the rest of the summer deepening my existing knowledge and skills, going on business trips and doing animagi. I can't call the latter a completely new discipline, but... after moving to another Reality, my animagi form has changed — if before it was an ordinary English viper, now it's something fluffy and warm-blooded.

 In mid-August, one of the unwitting agents (who is completely unaware of his double life) from among the Muggle-born magicians sends me a letter with the information I need. 

 Lotta von Wald, an aristocratic Muggle in whom Magic has awakened. Her personal life has not gone well — at the magical school, her classmates cursed the beautiful girl, rewarding her with a very repulsive appearance and the inability to have children. Lotta found herself in science, becoming a renowned master of ritualism — the best among Muggle-born and half-bloods in Europe. She is now seventy-six — that is, somewhere around forty if she were a Muggle. And under thirty if Lotta were pure-blood. 

 "Do you like me?" the woman interrupted my unceremonious scrutiny with a crystal-clear voice, not hiding her irony.

 "Not really," I replied dryly, "the lack of breasts and a clubfoot are half bad, but the disgusting skin and harelip are horrible.

 The air grew noticeably colder.

 "Representative of the House of Tully," Lotta began in a voice filled with power, "did you invite me here to insult me?

 "I want to talk to one of the best ritualists in Europe and, incidentally, an unhappy woman. But this conversation will only take place if you swear to Sute to keep it secret.

 "Even to Sute? – The woman raised an eyebrow, "Not by an unbreakable vow, not by magic, not by your life?

 "Exactly. "Boy, thank you for the money," with these words, she grabs the bag of galleons I offered her just for talking and stands up.

 "I swear by magic that you need this conversation more than I do," I say, clutching the magic wand in my hand, " Lumos!

 "So..." Lotta sinks heavily into a chair standing in the middle of an octagram burned directly into the floor of a fisherman's cottage in Normandy, which I bought through several front men. For a moment, she looks at me silently, trying to look into my eyes.

 "All right..." the woman says hoarsely, and I hand her the text with the oath. She scans it and nods in agreement, then utters the necessary words.

 "Speak.

Instead of answering, I lift the hair above my ears, revealing the pointed tips and the absence of earlobes, while simultaneously removing the veil and allowing my Sidish power to burst forth. Then I say:

 "I am the embodiment of the power of the Tully family. Sid. I am looking for a wife. You are right for me.

 "I knew, I knew that everything would be fine! Lotta screams frantically and faints.

 Yes, she's ugly... So what? As I said, during pregnancy and after giving birth to a child from a Sid, ANY woman becomes a Sid herself — if she doesn't forget to perform a few simple rituals — and there are NO ugly Sids, her appearance will improve. As for the inability to have children... For sid, who are Reflections of Life and Death... it's not funny. 

 I brought her to her senses and calmed her down for a long time — I even had to use a weak mental influence — but only after she gave her permission. It's better to play honestly with your future wife from the very beginning. After all, I personally perceive her as a future ally, not as a subordinate.

 "Calm down?

 "Yeah.

 "Oh... Here, take the cognac and drink it in one gulp.

 "Cough... cough...

 "Are you gone?

 "Now, yes, but still... I'll tell you straight, I agree.

 "Even to an unequal marriage? 

The woman smiles wearily...

 "With equal rights, you could have married the daughter of any of the Most Ancient and Noble, and not just one...

 "You're right about 'not just one,'" I agree with her, " we'll have to look for a few more. No, no, not a harem, just... my world is brand new...

 This time she woke up a little faster, with such shining eyes... There was no need to explain to the Master of Rituals why I needed several wives — Lotta understood perfectly well that I would be looking for women like her — Masters with unfulfilled destinies. Firstly, it is important for raising future offspring to have their OWN Master Teachers. For Seeds these days, minimal contact with other races can be vital. Secondly, the World is still forming, so Masters of several Disciplines can not only accelerate its development, but also make the World much more diverse. 

 I don't fully understand diversity myself: whether it refers to animal and plant diversity, magical diversity, or... But it's important.

 "Will there be a senior wife?" Lotta asks in a deliberately calm tone.

 "No, you are all equal, but I am the eldest. Absolutely the eldest, unquestionably. I don't think I need to explain why, do I?

 "No need!" The woman shakes her head sharply. "Phew... I can recommend a Master of Blood: a Russian woman from a destroyed clan. Her children died, and she can't have any more because of a curse, but...

 "I'll take a look at her, I can't say right away — maybe the curse is so strong that I won't be able to remove it.

She nods nervously...

 "But she's very good, kind, a strong Blood Master, and anyway... She has no family.

 "I'll take a look. Now about you... We can perform the marriage ceremony when all the candidates for wives have been presented — it's safer that way. You understand, you can't be pregnant in this world... And for at least the next five years, until you stop feeding the child and get used to the new Power. So it's better to prepare everything right away and hide you both. 

 "Pregnant..." Lotta smiled blissfully (very unpleasantly, between us, with her rabbit lip), "a child..." 

 "Pull yourself together!

 "Yes, yes!

 "Also, if you can do it without arousing suspicion, sell the estate as soon as possible and transfer all assets to England.

 "Gringotts?

 "No way! – I wave my hands at my future wife, " through the Muggles! You still have an estate in the Muggle world?

 "Yes, only the basement and part of the house are closed off from the Muggles.

 "Well, then... Sell it and transfer the money to England, but move the artefacts and books first. And in general, try not to show up in the Reich anymore — it's dangerous. Sell through a law firm, come up with something realistic... For example, you could spread a rumour that you've decided to go "all out" and move to South America, where you'll hire local men. 

Lotta blushed with shame, but nodded — she was a very intelligent woman and understood perfectly well that in a year or two she wouldn't give a damn about the mocking whispers of her former acquaintances. Especially since she was unlikely to ever see them again... And even if she did, they simply wouldn't recognise her. "So, now about your potential friends... Ideally, we need Masters of Artifact Crafting, Shamanism, Blood, Herbology, and Potion Making. Alchemy is also good. Yes, for Potion Making... we don't need intuitives with Ancestral Gifts.

 "Ah... I see, a different Clan, a different race, half the skills will be useless. Only Academics who use classical methods, right?

 "Right. That's why we don't really need Masters of Charms, Transfiguration, or Combat — it seems like the Sid have serious differences from human magic.

 "Healers, mentalists?

 "No need, I could pass Mastery and Apprenticeship in Runes and Rituals in those disciplines myself.

 "Wow!

 "I'll tell you more later. Necromancy, Demonology and other... delicacies... I'd like to, but I understand that right now they're all with Grindelwald or working for the enemy's special services, so alas. The rest of the disciplines... if there are any interesting candidates, write to me. Here's a notebook with modified Protean spells. I'm also an Artifactor at the Senior Apprentice level, so don't worry about the safety of the information. Just add a drop of blood.

Without hesitation, Lotta cuts her finger with the knife she's holding out — not just a sign of trust among magicians, but a sign of absolute trust! From this moment on, I can be sure that she's not playing a double game.

 "That's it, now we'll only see each other when all the candidates are ready. And don't you dare take any risks, you're not the only one looking for them, my agents are too. 

 "Yes...

The Good Court*" The classification of "classic" British fairies divides them into the Good Court and the Bad Court. But this is not "good" and "evil," but rather order/conservatism versus chaos/changeability. It is believed that members of the Good Court are more friendly towards humans, while members of the opposite camp dislike them. However, this does not mean that "Good" elves cannot cause trouble, or that "Bad" elves cannot help.

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