Chapter 6: The Second Beginning

[French Veela Coven, February 14, 1960.]

— Ariel's POV —

And so, I found myself back in the coven I once fled — but this time, everything was different. Here in France, veelas have the same rights as ordinary wizards. In fact, many people admire our beauty and abilities.

Of course, there are still pureblood fanatics and those who simply hate magical creatures, but there are far fewer of them here, and they're not nearly as zealous as in England.

For the first time, I felt something other than contempt, pity, or lust directed at me. Viktor was the first to treat me differently, but he holds a special place in my heart — and beneath it. For everyone else to treat me with respect and even kindness… it was new, and despite my empathy, I could hardly believe it. Honestly, it frightened me a little.

I had enough money for a couple of years — more than enough to avoid leaving my child alone or with a nanny just to go to work. Besides, I wanted to catch up on the magic I'd missed out on because of those damn English! How I hate them now.

Before, when I didn't know any better, I just accepted the way things were. I didn't realize how terribly we were treated. Or maybe I just didn't want to realize it — I lied to myself, pretended it was normal.

Now, I know if I ever go back, I'll either end up killing myself or taking out a few aurors with me. No, I wanted to give my child as much love and attention as I possibly could. That's why I rented a room in the coven's dormitory — three or four times cheaper than anything in Flower Alley, the Parisian equivalent of Diagon Alley.

***

Half my free time, when I wasn't busy with household chores, I spent studying the textbooks Viktor left me. I added the full Beauxbatons course for comparison, and practiced with a magic wand — though I had to get one better suited to me.

But I would never throw away Viktor's wand. I'll keep it for our child, as a memory of him.

It took me several days to realize I didn't even have a photograph of him. That made the things he gave me all the more precious — especially the bracelet he asked me to keep.

The rest of my free time I devoted to French and to the meditations Viktor taught me. I could feel myself growing stronger after each session, filled with energy I used for practice, and some of it was absorbed by my child. That made me happy — he or she would be stronger for it!

But lately, I'd been troubled by the sense that something was interfering with the baby's development, some foreign energy seeping in. I activated true sight and felt nothing. The French magical hospital — named after Louis de Fernier — couldn't help either. They said the child was healthy and strong. Too strong, in fact; the magical interference made it impossible to determine the gender.

Still, I wasn't reassured. I began meditating even more, purposefully filling my body with energy. Viktor had said to draw from different sources, but fire was always easiest for me — no surprise, since all veelas can control fire, especially in our second form.

So I would transform, light a fire near the dormitory, and absorb as much energy as I could. I wouldn't let anything harm my child!

***

— Main Character's POV —

I tried everything, squeezing my reserves to the limit. Eventually, I fell into a trance from constant meditation — a state without time or space, where only I and my goal existed.

Then, one day, I was simply sucked into my body. I couldn't do anything more, only guess that my vessel's shells were merging with mine. Thanks to the emblem and all my infusions, there was no rejection, and the process seemed to be going well. Then I lost consciousness.

I woke up to all-consuming pain, as if I was being dragged through a tube smaller than myself. Panic hit me — am I being born? What the hell? Can I skip this part? Please, let me black out again!

Eventually, they pulled me out of the womb… a blurry spot, can't see a damn thing! And that spot said something in French, but my ears were clogged. What the hell? Can't see, can't hear, can't move — reminds me of that bachelor party at university when I overdid it.

Except then, my whole body didn't hurt, my lungs weren't full of amniotic fluid, and nobody was slapping my ass. Why are you hitting me, you bastard? Everything hurts already! Want me to scream? Fine, here you go…

***

"What an active boy you have," the doctor told his veela patient, handing the child to the nurse, who immediately carried him away. The patient was surprisingly calm. Usually, during childbirth, veelas are quite aggressive and often transform into their second form, making the obstetrician's job much more difficult.

One of his colleagues once compared delivering a veela baby to taking an egg from a dragon, and he agreed. But this time, everything went smoothly — all the better for him.

"Don't worry, I checked him, and diagnostic charms show he's healthy and has no abnormalities."

"I want to see him, may I? And thank you for everything, Dr. Bonnar," Ariel asked, her voice trembling with excitement.

"You're welcome — it's my job. For now, rest. The child will be washed and brought to you," the man replied with a tired smile.

Childbirth exhausts not only the mother, but the staff as well. Magic solves many problems, but it can't be used at the moment of birth itself. Babies are too weak and sensitive; they must be delivered the old-fashioned way. Otherwise, foreign magic can harm mother or child. In emergencies, it's used, but usually they rely on anesthetic charms.

The doctor didn't voice his suspicions about the child. He'd delivered dozens of little veelas and could always tell by the face whether it was a boy or girl. Veelas are very similar — light hair, blue eyes.

But today, for the first time, he was puzzled to see clear veela features in a boy. He quickly dismissed the thought — who knows, maybe the father was a blue-eyed blond?

***

"Hurray! My little pepper?!" I was crying, I pissed myself, but I didn't care at all. How is this possible? All my efforts weren't in vain — and my Jr. is with me!

The increased reserve, the healed scar on my astral body, the strengthening of all my shells — none of that mattered right now. Ariel tried to calm me down, shoved her breast — quite a nice one, by the way — into my mouth, and I latched on with enthusiasm. My great battle was won!

When I woke up, my wild joy had faded a bit. They fed me delicious milk and even changed my diapers, so I could think a little more rationally. By the way, I was thinking even in soul form, without a body! I'll have to look into that when I get access to the translation — I remember something about it.

So here I am, lying in a crib, meditating on autopilot, feeling like I'm about to burst — my nous is overflowing! It's like drinking ten liters of beer with the bathroom occupied. What do I do, who do I pray to?

There are other babies around, and if I explode with a magical discharge, I'll be responsible for the deaths of a couple dozen infants. Not the best start to life, let me tell you.

Rummaging through everything that stuck in my leaky head after the translation — and a lot stuck, since I had to translate almost every word — I remembered an interesting spell from healing magic: the return of life, which can be performed by direct control. It converts mana into prana, that is, life energy.

Urgently, I began performing the necessary actions and felt the excess energy drain away like water into dry sand. Phew, it worked.

I'm my own hero now — I find myself problems and valiantly solve them at the last second. Should have thought of it earlier, idiot. And my idiotic habit of meditating constantly doesn't excuse me. But now I can convert mana to prana, even if the efficiency is terrible — maybe twenty to one, if not worse — and avoid magical discharges when it's not needed or is downright dangerous.

That's how my second life began.

***

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