Chapter 23: Artifacts and Apologies

Quidditch turned out to be excellent telekinesis training. Even though I only used it in critical moments, it still exhausted me. But I have to admit — it was fun.

After that, the days started to blur together, each one almost a carbon copy of the last: meditations, lessons, teaching Pixie to read, devouring textbooks on artificing and related disciplines, and training new spells. Still, there were some moments that stood out.

**

"Children, today we'll be brewing Pepperup Potion. If any of you don't know what that is, you can read page sixty-three in your 'Magical Draughts and Potions' textbooks. In short — it's a cold remedy, but with the side effect of smoke pouring from your ears for three hours. The recipe is on the board, ingredients are on your tables. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask," said our Potions teacher — a slender woman of about twenty-five, with bright red curly hair and freckles scattered across her face.

"Madam Potion, what's the difference between stirring potions clockwise and counterclockwise?" I asked, voicing a question that had been on my mind for a while.

"That's a good question. As I said last lesson, the ingredients themselves, no matter how you mix them, won't turn into a potion. It's the magical energy, your knowledge, and your will that transform poisonous swill into a miraculous elixir."

She spoke with real inspiration, her love for the subject obvious.

"Knowledge lets you choose the right ingredients and their quantities, and how to cut or prepare them. Your magic dissolves the necessary substances, binds them, transforms them, destroys impurities, and strengthens what's needed. And will — will lets you achieve exactly the result you want."

"In fairy tales and legends, wizards are said to change reality with a single thought, turning water into the elixir of immortality. A bad potioneer masters only one of these qualities. An ordinary one — two. A good one — three…"

"And an excellent one?" I couldn't help but ask.

"An excellent one also has intuition. It's not strictly necessary, but it's what lets you turn an excellent potion into a legendary one," she finished, then continued.

"So, the stirring itself isn't the main thing. It just helps regulate the flow and saturation of mana in the potion. If you stir clockwise, you're feeding energy in. Counterclockwise, you're dispersing it. It's an unconscious reflex, and unfortunately, bad teachers don't explain this, which is why we get yet another mediocre potioneer who can only brew mass-produced stuff by recipe."

"A true master doesn't need to stir at all. They can regulate the flame temperature to fractions of a degree, and the magical saturation of the potion, with will and desire alone. The best can change recipes on the fly, create new ones thanks to experience and intuition, and correct errors with their will and invested desire."

It was clear her dream was to become one of those masters. As my grandmother used to say in my past life — a poor soldier who doesn't dream of being a general.

I thought about it and realized that by "will," the teacher meant direct magical control — when you don't need rituals, foci, or spells. In potionmaking, that's especially useful, because a single ingredient can have a dozen effects, and their combinations… millions. If you don't know the exact recipe, direct control is the best way to get the result you want.

"Thank you for the answer, Professor Potion. May I ask another question?"

"Of course! I'm pleased there are students genuinely interested in potionmaking. Five points to Mr. Marlow!" Not bad. Points are good, but earning them isn't easy. For excellent studies, they're awarded automatically, but for extra — you have to try.

"Do you filter potions?"

"Why? Unreacted substances usually precipitate, and draining the finished potion is rarely a problem. The more experienced the wizard, the fewer impurities are left in the first place. You can filter, of course, but then the potion will be weaker. That's done in hospitals, when you need to cure a magically exhausted person who can't remove the remaining impurities themselves," she explained.

So, don't think wizards are idiots — they know what they're doing. There are just reasons for doing things one way or another.

"Thank you," I said, and went back to brewing the fairly simple potion.

In general, I'd only studied potionmaking superficially. The problem is, practice takes a huge amount of time, and sometimes it's easier to buy a ready-made product than to brew it yourself for weeks or even months. Especially since some potions have a short shelf life.

And while stasis magic and enchanted containers can help, I didn't want to dive too deep into this art at school. I studied and recorded recipes in my ersatz grimoire — a thick notebook with imperishability charms and a page-copying spell for when it fills up.

I repeat, there's just too little time, and I didn't want to mess with magic unknown to the rest of the world while at school.

***

On top of everything else, I decided that an artificer without protective artifacts is like a cobbler without shoes. Fortunately, ready-made formulas for the most common ones were in Lerah's book.

I wouldn't say modern artificing is bad — it's just that finding such formulas in open access is almost impossible. This is, you might say, the bread and butter of artificers, and no one shares their developments for free.

So I didn't try to reinvent the wheel. I used what I already had. But I couldn't help showing off, right?

For the form factor, I chose a bracelet that could be worn inconspicuously on the shoulder or expanded. Thanks to the reinforced metal lining, into which square quartz crystals would be inserted, if the accumulators exploded, the fragments wouldn't harm my hand — they'd fly forward as shrapnel.

I hadn't thought of this for my wand, due to inexperience, and thank Merlin everything worked out.

Here are the spells I decided to put in the bracelet:

[Steel Shield] — an energy barrier that protects the caster from certain types of physical attacks, especially metal weapons.

[Shining Shield] — invisible energy covering the body, protecting from any physical attack.

[Ethereal Armor] — ethereal protection against standard combat spells of various power and direction.

[Armor of Ea] — protection from all kinds of poisonous substances and mixtures dissolved in air or water. Even the most dangerous poisons are neutralized.

[Armor of Inanna] — protection for the caster and allies from all kinds of infections for several hours, including diseases and epidemics.

[Elemental Armor] — ethereal protection from all kinds of elemental attacks. The power is so high it lets you ignore attacks with the temperature of a stellar protuberance or absolute zero cold.

[Mental Protection] — magic that shields the mind from all kinds of mental attacks. Any wizard already has high psychic resistance, but there are always those who can interact at much higher levels. In such cases, this magic is used.

[Healing] — a spell that heals not-too-serious wounds. It can also create a basic cosmetic effect, restore the body from signs of old age, and even turn rotting organs or body parts back to normal. Among other things, the caster can regrow torn limbs in moments, if they're not too badly damaged.

[Dome of Secrets] — a dome that surrounds the caster and allies. While it's active, no one outside can spy on or eavesdrop on what's happening inside.

I had to split the spells across two bracelets — they wouldn't all fit in one. I chose the last spells for their usefulness in training or to quietly finish someone off, bury them, and not reveal my abilities in the process.

Personal Protection deserves special mention: this is a spell that grants its user a certain "safety net." While it's active, you can't die. Any attack, effect, or even poison is instantly neutralized and won't harm the wizard. But after a single activation, the spell immediately disappears.

Plus, this magic doesn't protect from literally everything — it's based on what the wizard himself considers dangerous, connecting to his sixth sense. If you're attacked by something you don't see as a threat, the spell might not work.

But you can't stuff such complex spells into ordinary quartz, and they still need to be cast on yourself. So I usually keep one personal protection on myself, just in case.

Besides this, I made a protective amulet — a round medallion for the neck. What is it?

**[Protective Amulet]** — a special artifact that, using the user's sixth sense, warns of danger. The amulet lets you notice hostile feelings, desires, or direct threats to your life. In case of serious danger, it heats up, letting you avoid trouble.

No, modern wizards aren't fools — they created an analog in the form of a Sneakoscope. But why remove spells from it, decipher them? Especially since a whistling top isn't the best warning method. It's like directly telling a criminal that his intentions are exposed.

This time, I wasn't working alone.

"Mom, hi, are you busy?" I walked into the room Ariel had been given and immediately turned around, catching her in a rather piquant situation with Ludwig. Nothing critical — they were just kissing — but I reminded myself that I'm not at home anymore and should knock.

"Sorry for interrupting your romance," I said to the Care of Magical Creatures professor as he came out. "Really, I'm sorry."

"We're to blame for not locking the door," he said, scratching his head in embarrassment. "And you're quite understanding for a first-year."

"Mom should have moved on long ago, and I'm glad she chose a normal man and not some scumbag. So I give my blessing, peace, and whatever else you need," I shrugged.

"You're a good kid. No wonder the fairies love you."

"Oh, don't you start. They already call me the fairy favorite — good thing they don't try to dress me in dresses."

"What, there were attempts?" he asked, interested.

"A couple."

"And? What happened to them?" Ludwig guessed it hadn't ended there.

"They walked around in unremovable illusions of pink dresses until the end of the day. There were no more attempts. Amazing."

"Ha-ha-ha, well done, that's how it should be. Listen, if you have problems with the older years, come to me. I'll help," he offered his hand for a shake.

"Thanks. If anything comes up, I'll ask," I said, not refusing. Sometimes it really is easier to ask for help.

After that, I knocked, and after getting permission, entered Ariel's room. She hadn't given up her habit of changing interiors, and today it was baroque style in dark red and gold.

"Sorry, Mom, I distracted you," I apologized. It really was awkward.

"It's nothing," she smiled at me. I didn't cause her problems often enough for her to be angry. And she loves me, what can I say. "Did you want something?"

"Can't I just visit my mom?" I asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"Come on, both you and I know you rarely come just like that. It's always for training or to test new spells under my supervision. And just so you know, I don't approve of this," she said, frowning and trying to look stern. But she looked too cute to be menacing. Like a combat hamster.

"Yes, I remember, you said so. About nine thousand times, then I stopped counting."

"And what am I to do with you?"

"Love and forgive? I made some sketches here…"

"Oh, you little troublemaker, well, show me," she said, her voice full of mock futility.

She spent about thirty minutes reviewing my enchantment schemes.

"Did you do this yourself? How much time did it take?"

"Of course myself," I answered with pride. "And I did it in a month, though some ideas were long-standing, even before school."

"If everyone had such ideas, everyone would be a genius. You're right. I looked through briefly and can say this isn't my level. I can help you, but I won't be able to spot possible enchantment conflicts. Though, since each spell will be in a separate block, everything should work out," she said thoughtfully, putting her finger to her lips.

"As always, I'll use doppelgangers. They're weak, but enough for testing. And when we refine it, I'll make two sets. After all, I only have one mom."

"Oh, you little flatterer, come here, let your mom hug you." Does she do yoga? How did I end up squeezed so quickly?

***

"I did as you asked," Apolline approached me, her expression devastated, her eyes pleading.

"And how did it go?" I asked, sitting on the shore of the crystal-clear lake. I often sat here, enjoying the peace and solitude. Especially when nostalgia for my past life and feelings of loneliness washed over me.

Too young for adults, too old for the young. Sometimes I wondered — why do I need all this magic, all this training? I have money. I could go to the sea and live happily ever after, not bothering with problems I invented myself.

What's your goal, Arthur? What's the meaning?

And I always answered myself: the meaning is in the absence of meaning — or rather, in freedom. The stronger I am, the fewer people who can take that freedom away. Besides, I like magic. So why not?

"He forgave me." I wasn't surprised — he's head over heels for her. But I was interested in something else.

"I wanted to know something else. What did you feel when you told him everything?" I asked.

"Shame and… relief."

"I see. All this could have been avoided if you'd told the truth right away. I don't blame you for using spells on Delacour. Yes, you acted badly, but who is he to me? A stranger. You're my best friend. I don't care that you have secrets — everyone does."

"But you stayed silent when it was obvious your problem affected me. If I'd known everything in advance, I would have helped, no problem. Was it worth waiting until they attacked me? And if I'd hurt them? I'd have been expelled, and I wouldn't even know why. Now do you understand why I'm angry with you?" I asked.

"I… I didn't want to, sorry. I thought it would be better this way."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions. If you have problems, come to me immediately. Together, even the burden is lighter," I said, turning away.

"Okay," she answered softly.

I just kept looking at the smooth surface of the lake, over which a satisfied and carefree Pixie was flying.