Chapter 27: A Master and His Student

Two months had passed since I started training with Phineas Black. The lessons cost a thousand galleons a month, but I didn't regret a single knut. From the very beginning, he saw that, at least in theory, I'd long surpassed the level of an ordinary magical school graduate. He didn't waste time on that. Instead, we jumped straight into practice. He would watch me work, spot my mistakes, point them out, and explain not just how to fix them, but why.

"Right here," he said, tapping a long line of runes as I worked out the enchantment for a wooden chest with expanded space. "Mannaz should come before Inguz, not after."

"But why, teacher? According to the diagram, it's the other way around." I never worried about sounding foolish — Black actually praised my curiosity, as long as the question wasn't obvious or something I could have figured out myself.

"You're working with wood, and maintaining the internal form of space is simpler this way. Plus, it strengthens the stability of the whole chain."

"Thank you, I get it now. That explains why it's not recommended to store valuables in bags with expanded space." At that moment, Pixie, who had been scribbling away with her tongue sticking out in concentration, squeaked proudly and showed her scrawls to Phineas.

"Oh ho ho, so we have a little runologist in the making! Well done, little one. I'll show you later how to do it even better." I glanced at Pixie's notebook, where she was showing off her parody runes with her nose held high.

"You'll spoil her, teacher. If she becomes an artificer too, she'll never listen to anyone. She'll abandon me and fly off to brag to her kin," I complained, and the tiny girl immediately rushed to comfort me, trying to hug me — which, of course, didn't work. "Master, I won't abandon you," her actions seemed to say.

"I'm still amazed you managed to teach a fairy to read and write, when most people thought them completely unreasonable. If my family could see this, maybe it would knock down their arrogance toward magical creatures and ordinary people a bit," he said, shaking his head, a hint of bitterness in his eyes.

"Won't you tell me about your family?" I asked, genuinely interested.

"Why not?" he shrugged. "After you tell me where you learned ancient magic?"

My heart clenched in panic. How did he know? I hadn't shown my powers, had I? What should I do? Where could I run?

"Don't shake like a rabbit before a wolf. Or do you think I'd bother teaching an ordinary student? I met your mother at a reception once, and was surprised when she told me how her son helped her make all those artifacts. Don't worry — no one but an old paranoid like me would take those words seriously. After all, who doesn't praise their child?

"And then, I hear you're looking for a teacher," he continued, taking a sip of water. "At first, I just wanted to see you for myself. Imagine my surprise when I found not a boastful kid, but an almost accomplished wizard who knows what he wants and works for it."

"I still don't understand how you decided I possess ancient magic," I said, cautiously.

"Your wand."

"What about it?"

"Everything about it. In magical lenses, it doesn't look like an artifact, but like an extension of your hand. You can't see inside it. And that girl — what's her name... Apolline? Very interesting pendant she has, and it's clear you gave it to her. But most importantly, I wasn't completely sure until now. I assumed the most unlikely option, and you confirmed it with your behavior. Next time, don't show your fear to your interlocutor." He smirked, and I groaned inwardly. I'd exposed myself so badly!

"Don't worry," he said, patting my head in a fatherly way. "I didn't notice everything at once, and I knew where to look. Besides, any experienced wizard would just assume it's a family artifact. So as long as you don't babble, no one will find out."

"So what do you want? My knowledge?"

"What would I need it for? If you want to share, share. If not, don't. Though I won't pretend I wouldn't be interested to see it."

"Hm, what if I pay for my apprenticeship with you in knowledge?" I asked after a moment's thought. To my surprise, he applauded.

"Cunning, truly cunning. And you can't fault it. You to me, I to you, and apprenticeship implies protection and safety for the student. You know what? I agree!"

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. I never liked making things more complicated than they need to be. You wanted to hear my story, right? Still interested?" he asked, remembering the start of our conversation.

"No, I'm still interested."

"Well then, listen..."

He told me the story of a young man with burning eyes who fell for a girl of ordinary blood. He knew his family wouldn't approve, so he decided to "lay some groundwork" and did his own research — which led him to a horrifying discovery.

The magical flower of England was dying out. Entire families were degrading into squibs, and no one seemed to care. His research showed something interesting: at first, the union of two wizards almost always produced an equally or more magically gifted child. But over time, that number dropped. The more pureblooded a family, the closer the family ties, the more often squibs and "family" curses appeared — hereditary diseases that even a wizard's magic couldn't cure.

Even so, the average pureblood was still stronger than the average Muggle-born. But here and there, extremely talented and powerful half-bloods were born. Black theorized that blood needed to be "cleansed," as closed tribes do, by exchanging brides.

Phineas was overjoyed when he told his family about his discovery. But to his shock, not only was he forbidden to speak of it, he was threatened with exile if he didn't obey.

The young, hot-headed man ignored the threats and began to spread the truth openly. But no one wanted to hear it. The entire magical world of England mocked him, and his family cut all ties, branding him a blood traitor.

"I still think I was right. My only mistake was telling everyone about my discovery without the proper support, strength, or influence. And by the time I realized, it was too late — you can't turn back time," he finished.

"What about the girl? The one you liked?"

"Nothing came of it, as often happens with first love. But it worked out with another — my Annabelle. We lived together for sixty years." The pain in his voice was so raw that I didn't press further.

"Alright, let's get back to the runes."

"What about accepting the apprenticeship?"

"What, should I brand your forehead? Or take an oath? It doesn't work that way. Tomorrow we'll go to the Ministry, and I'll officially accept you as my student. Now, come on, write, or your Pixie will overtake you," he said, pointing at the fairy, who was scribbling away in her notebook again.

So I continued my studies without further objections. By evening, we managed to stun Ariel, who had just returned from a date with Ludwig, with our news.

"Mom, I have news!"

"Son, I have news!" we said at the same time.

"You first," and again, we managed to speak in unison, which made us laugh. Even the usually stern Black allowed himself a smile. Pixie looked around in confusion, her bead-like eyes darting between me and Ariel.

"I... We... well, I decided to become Sir Phineas's apprentice!" I braced myself for anything — hysteria, offense that I hadn't discussed such an important decision with her, even indifference. But I wasn't expecting a burst of joy.

"Finally! I gave my consent ages ago, Mr. Black — why did you drag it out so long?" Ah, you old fox. I thought I'd achieved this with great difficulty, but he'd already agreed long ago. From my look, he even choked, but pretended everything was fine and continued sipping his tea.

"And what's your news?" I asked, eager to change the subject.

"Ludwig and I decided to make our relationship official. He proposed today, and I said yes!" Seeing my odd expression, she asked, worried, "You're not against it, are you?"

"No, I was just wondering when you'd finally stop sneaking kisses in corners and become a normal couple." I grinned — and then vanished with a nearly soundless pop of apparition.

***

"Eh, he's always like this — causes mischief and apparates away. He's been like that since childhood," Ariel apologized to her son's guest and teacher.

"It's actually good that the boy misbehaves. Sometimes I feel like I'm not teaching a boy, but a husband. In moments like this, he just acts his age — causes trouble and runs off."

"You know, he's always been like that. I used to worry he'd never find common ground with anyone. But look at him — he befriended Apolline and Patrick."

"Actually, that's what I wanted to discuss. It's not nice to say, but his friends are holding him back, keeping him from reaching his potential," Black said, elegantly sipping his tea. He usually didn't indulge in someone else's home, not wanting to seem a freeloader, though lately the hostess's delicious pancakes had changed his mind.

"What do you mean?" Ariel asked, puzzled. How could friends hold you back? She'd only dreamed of such things as a child. The thought of Arthur made her heart ache, but not as sharply as before — time really does heal.

"He's trying to pull them along with him. It's a commendable impulse, and rare. The problem is, his friends don't want it. Arthur may realize this, but habit is second nature."

"Are you suggesting he give up his friends? He'd never do that."

"Merlin forbid, I never meant that. I want to suggest transferring him to independent study. As I understand, my student received the highest grades in all subjects, and with his accumulated points, he qualifies for free attendance.

"He'll come on weekends to see you and his friends at school, but he won't have to tear himself apart trying to study with me, at school, help his friends, and deal with homework and inevitable conflicts with other students," Black explained.

"But why are you so sure about conflicts? He's not confrontational," Ariel said, not really arguing, just out of principle.

"That's true — he's extremely reasonable. But what about the others? Children don't like those who stand out, and your son stands out in character, studies, and, forgive me, origin. Your authority as a Beauxbatons teacher will shield him from some problems, but may also cause others — he could be seen as your favorite.

"And honestly, he's outgrown school. I'll take him for four, maybe five years of training, and then, if he wants, he can return to school. If not, all roads will be open to him." Standing up, he asked, "So, do you agree? Your consent is important to me."

"What about Arthur's opinion?"

"I already know his answer. I told you, he's a surprisingly reasonable young man."

"Then I agree. Oh, I've had to say those words twice in one day," she said, and the old man and young woman shared a smile. One overly curious veela grumbled, but didn't object — he really did need to move forward.

***

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