Chapter 26: Beyond the School Walls

Passing the exams was as easy as pie, especially after I quickly skimmed through the first-year textbooks — I'd read them ages ago. So, after acing every subject with an "O" — the highest grade — I was free. They even gave me a hefty pile of house points for it, which I decided to deal with next year.

We didn't throw any special celebration just for finishing first year. We returned home via Floo, and in half an hour of wand-waving and household charms, we cleaned up the house that had been abandoned for almost a year. Then we just rested until evening.

Our friends, though — they really missed their parents. There were surprises, too. Jacqueline, Apolline's mother, and Alan, Patrick's father, finally moved in together and announced their relationship. Not that it was a secret to anyone, honestly.

And that was the event we celebrated at a restaurant — not a magical one, but the most ordinary you could imagine. Apparently, for company, they decided to celebrate Ariel's relationship with Ludwig as well, who was also invited. It turned into a big, friendly dinner.

The next couple of days, I spent thinking and gathering information. I realized my knowledge was patchy, pieced together from books where the things that are obvious to masters are often left out or skipped — the very things I keep banging my head against, like a fish against ice.

Take those punchers or other artifacts — when I was making them, I fumbled around like a blind kitten, making dozens, even hundreds, of failed attempts. And never mind the wasted materials, it was the time that hurt. What would happen when I moved on to really serious and dangerous charms or artifacts? Or if I came across a rare ingredient, where I couldn't afford to make mistakes?

No, the teachers at school helped, but only with the basics — it's not their job to train underage archmages. Their duty is to teach the regulated curriculum, and that's it. The first thought that came to mind was to find myself a tutor. Not necessarily a Master, just someone experienced and knowledgeable in artificing.

Ariel loved the idea, since she couldn't help me with many things herself. Her work as a transfiguration teacher took all her time and energy, especially since she was replacing the old professor.

The search was easy — newspaper ads. And since distance isn't much of a problem in the magical world, we placed them not only in the French "Magical News," but also in German, English, Italian, and other papers.

There just aren't that many wizards compared to Muggles, and Masters of the right disciplines — or even those close to that level — can be counted on two hands, at least in France. And such people don't need money, and not everyone is willing to teach a student — to make a competitor with their own hands.

Still, the first applicants sent their resumes by owl post the very next day. Most were nowhere near the required skill level — just swindlers and amateurs hoping for easy money.

It was good I'd asked Ariel not to mention my age, and to add that my artificing knowledge was above average. Otherwise, we'd have been swamped by people who fancied themselves professors.

Thanks to the mail, I easily filtered out ninety percent of candidates who couldn't tell a sig rune from an eihwaz rune. With the rest, it varied — some refused when they learned my age, some asked for ridiculous payment, and some I just didn't like in astral sight. No matter how skilled someone is, I don't want to deal with a rotten person. There'd be no trust in their teaching.

***

"I assure you, you won't find a better specialist! I can rightfully call myself an expert in everything to do with charms, runes, and numerology!"

Sitting on the sofa, I watched as the young man — maybe twenty — pulled one oatmeal cookie after another from the bowl. I restrained myself by sheer willpower from throwing this pompous jerk out by the scruff of his neck.

It wasn't just that he was lying through his teeth — I could understand that. But the arrogant, contemptuous look he gave me, and the lustful one he gave Ariel, pushed me to the edge. Only my upbringing and my desire not to ruin my reputation kept me from doing what I wanted.

"I think we'll inform you of our decision after we interview the other applicants," Ariel said, forcing a smile. She was barely holding it together, judging by her emotions. And she wasn't even casting any charms, yet this Mr. Richardson was already drowning in her — completely covered — neckline.

Thank Merlin not everyone was like him. He was a rare exception.

"Oh, come on, the others can't hold a candle to me, I guarantee it. So let's sign the contract already!"

Yeah, if Ego could be seen, this guy's would be the size of a planet.

"By the way, I can accept payment in other ways too…"

He winked at Ariel, and that was the last straw. I know what stereotypes exist about veela, but to say it so openly and offer "payment in kind"?

Taking my wand, I whispered the words of a laxative charm: "Diarrheus." A couple of days on the toilet should put his brains where they belong.

"Oh, excuse me!" His stomach gurgled, and he bolted for the door, desperate not to embarrass himself on the spot.

I went to close the door he'd flung open and found an elderly, intelligent-looking man standing on the threshold, hand raised to knock.

***

"Hello, does Mr. Marlow live here? I contacted him about the advertisement," he asked politely.

I looked him over, trying not to be rude. A smoothly shaven, wrinkled face, short-cropped gray hair, a Greek profile, English accent, and a quite expensive — though not new — suit. A brown tweed jacket with checks, matching pants, and a gray bowler hat, which he raised in greeting. You couldn't say if he was rich or poor — maybe it was just his favorite suit.

In his hand was a black wooden cane with a snarling dog's head carved from ebonite. But the most interesting thing was this: he was one of the few people whose emotions I couldn't feel. He wasn't emotionless — just completely out of my league.

And when I activated true sight, I almost recoiled. He was no weaker than Gaunt! But unlike my former employer, his aura was neither dark nor rotten, which calmed me.

"I am Mr. Marlow. Mr. Phineas Black, please come in," I said, smiling at the man, who looked surprised for a split second. Well, no one expects an "experienced apprentice" to be a twelve-year-old kid, even if I look fourteen.

After my invitation, he stepped inside with dignity.

"Would you like some tea, Mr. Black?" I asked.

"I wouldn't refuse. If it's not too much trouble, add milk and two spoons of sugar."

"It's no trouble at all. Just a moment," I said, heading to the kitchen.

This applicant was completely different from the rest. He was proud, confident, but not arrogant. He acted at home, but didn't come off as pushy like the last guy. Well, let's see how things go.

"What did you do to Mr. Richardson?" Ariel whispered, her eyes wide, not wanting to involve our guest.

"Let's just say he'll have plenty of time to think about his behavior. But let's not keep Mr. Black waiting."

After Ariel promised to talk about my "inappropriate behavior" later, I helped her carry the cups of aromatic pu-erh.

***

"You're probably confused by my age?" After we'd introduced ourselves and chatted about the weather, the trip, and other etiquette nonsense, I decided to get down to business. I don't like small talk.

"Please forgive my frankness, but I admit I'm truly surprised by your age and appearance. But I don't see a problem with it," he said honestly.

Usually, people say, "No, what are you talking about, everything's fine," but inside, they're contemptuous or condescending. I don't like those people, but if there were really good masters among them, I'd tolerate it.

"Oh, please, I know how I look to strangers, and I appreciate your honesty. And to clear up any misconceptions, let me ask — have you heard of 'Magical Veela Bracelets,' 'Sleep Bracelets for Werewolves,' and 'Safety Bracelets for Brooms'?"

"I've only heard of the first two, but they weren't particularly interesting to me, since they're for other races. But the last one — that's good work, though not without flaws, and for a mass product, of course."

"I'm not boasting, just stating facts: I created the first two with my mother, and the last one I made myself."

"At such a young age? Commendable," Black replied. Not trying to flatter or needle, just stating a fact.

"Thank you, but I know my limits — mass products. And while we have enough for bread and butter, my ambitions go further. For that, I need a fundamental education, which only a Master can give, or…"

"An old pureblood family," Phineas finished for me. "I'll warn you right away, I have no right and don't want to reveal many family secrets. But what you're asking for, I can teach. But I have a proposal, and if you agree, I'm willing to even reduce my payment and reveal some family secrets not connected with dark magic."

He pronounced the last phrase with clear disgust. Interesting — a representative of a dark family who hates dark magic.

"What proposal?"

"I'm looking for a student."

"I'm afraid that's a serious request, and I can't answer yes or no just like that. I'd like to know your reasons, what you want to teach me, and get to know each other better first. After all, I might disappoint you and not meet your expectations."

It probably looked strange — a kid calmly and seriously discussing such things. But I was hiring a tutor for myself, so Ariel was here more as support. Our family had always been more like friends than mother and son.

And then I noticed he was smiling.

"Are you joking? Or is this a test?"

"It's good you guessed, Mr. Marlow. Of course, I don't just offer apprenticeship to anyone. You should know how many youngsters have burned themselves, foolishly agreeing right away. But I wasn't lying, and you're right — we need to get to know each other better.

"My reasons are simple — I'm too old. I was expelled from the Black family for refusing to practice dark magic and for my humanistic views on Muggles and squibs. I can't pass my knowledge to them, and I don't want to, honestly.

"I have no children, my wife died long ago, and I don't want my life's work to die with me," he said in a calm, even tone, as if it didn't matter. But if he's an Occlumens — and I'm sure he is — it's nothing for him to control his emotions.

"I understand, and I'll do my best to live up to your expectations," I said, bowing slightly in respect.

***

I liked the first lesson — the old man knew his business, not just in artificing, but in magic in general. Which only confirmed my theory that truly important, fundamental knowledge is hidden from the rest of society.

Right away, he found many errors in the charms and runes I was forming.

"Mr. Marlow, what do you put into your runes?" he asked, watching as lines of runes appeared under my wand.

"In what sense?" I asked, confused.

"Runes have many meanings. The same rune can be interpreted differently. Take the 'sig' rune, for example. It means strength and victory in the Elder Futhark. In an artifact, it can both increase the power of applied charms and be used as their completion. So it's very important to clearly imagine and put your will, your confidence, into how exactly this rune works."

"Use the power of mind?"

"You could say that. But not quite. Will is not just mind — it's confidence in your strength and power as a wizard. You only use mind, which weakens your runes and charms."

"I'll try."

Before me lay a piece of wood — a blank for training. I decided to remember everything. How surprised I was when I first opened true sight. How frightened I was by Gaunt. How slowly, over years, I built up my strength.

But behind all these trainings, the main thing had gotten blurred — I am a wizard, and I change reality with my will! All these charms, runes — they're just crutches!

Pointing my wand at the blank, but not using it, not using nonverbal charms, just my will and magic, I wished for it to light up. My reserves dropped by two-thirds, and it glowed faintly!

Black understood what I'd done and stroked his smooth chin, nodding in satisfaction. And I saw with astral sight — there were no runes, no built-in charms. The piece of wood was glowing by itself!

"Now you understand. But this is only the beginning, the basics. I'm surprised, with such an education, that you can make artifacts at all. But that's not to insult you — it's my frustration with modern schools and ministry policies."

How, how? By trial and error and hundreds of experiments. And about education and politics — that caught my attention.

"May I ask a question?"

"You already did."

"And one more?"

"That's two, but you can ask a third," the old man said, a devilish glint in his eyes.

"Was education different before?"

He thought for a moment. "Many disciplines have been banned since then, and 'insignificant details' have been gradually removed from books. Supposedly, they didn't interfere with learning magic, but when you try to do anything more serious than brewing potions or using ready-made charms, you run into almost insurmountable difficulties."

"Like putting meaning into runes?" I asked.

"That's just the tip of the iceberg. Compatibility tables in potion-making, numerological matrices for charms, permanent transfiguration, and much, much more. Yes, you can find all this in books, but what child will look for it? Especially if they don't know what it is or why they need it?

"And so, a wizard's foundation is shaky — and you get another Muggle with a wand. All the more commendable is your desire not to become one. But enough praise, we have a lot of work ahead," he said, frowning. Clearly, this problem bothered him deeply.

"Yes, sir," I replied, and we dove back into the discussion of runes.

***

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Thank you for the help with the power stones!!!