***
As soon as Cassius arrived at the portal platform of the Inu estate, he immediately saw Chibuzo, who was already waiting for him. Ordering the boy's things to be taken into the house, he said:
"Now we're going to the Sahara Desert to visit an old friend of mine. You will live with him for a few weeks, and he will teach you how to communicate with spirits and survive in the desert. It is impossible to live in Africa and not see the desert," Chibuzo smiled. "Believe me, this experience will be beneficial for your development as a magician.
A few minutes later, the portal activated and they were thrown out near the base of a large sand dune. Several tents stood nearby, and camels grazed a little further away. A man emerged from behind the tents, wrapped from head to toe in a blue cloak, from which only his shining eyes were visible.
"Oh, who's here!" the man exclaimed in surprise and joy. "Hello, Chibuzo, you brought your student as promised?
"Hello, Igideru. Yes, meet him. This is Cassius Malfoy, my student. It will be useful for him to learn the wisdom of your desert people. Only here will he be able to learn how to communicate with spirits and look at the stars correctly.
They entered the tent and sat down on the floor on rugs spread out before them.
"We are only stopping here briefly. Once the camels have rested and the heat of the day has subsided, we will begin our journey towards Algiers," said the old Berber. "I have to take some magical fabrics woven by Tuareg women to the market. We are also carrying gifts from the desert for the artefact makers of Algiers," he said with a wise smile. "On the way, I will teach you magic, young wizard," he said, turning to Cassius.
After talking a little more, Chibuzo left through the portal to go about his business, while Cassius sat and listened attentively to the old Amazigh. Turning to the wall of the tent, he took a bundle of clothes from somewhere.
"Change into what is customary for our tribe, young wizard. You need it to protect yourself from the heat and the evil little Loa. According to our traditions, only a man's eyes may remain uncovered so that he can see the way," he said, handing the bundle to Cassius.
After changing as the old magician had instructed, Cassius did indeed resemble a local. The men of the tribe wore sleeveless shirts and wide trousers. A blue cape was worn over the top. Two wide ribbons woven from multicoloured silk cords crossed the chest, with tassels hanging from the ends. Their heads were covered with white or blue scarves that covered their faces, leaving only their eyes exposed. Leather sandals were worn on their feet, allowing them to move easily on the sand. Cassius waved his arms to check how his new clothes fit, wiggled his toes in his sandals, and was satisfied.
"Now," said the old Amazigh, "sit down and listen.
The spirits in our world are divided into elders, middle ones and juniors. Through communication with Loa and Orisha, you can even get help from the primordial forces. My ancestors, who once lived on an island in the Atlantic Ocean, which they called Atlantis, believed in them. These are the forces of fire, water, earth and air. When the great Olodumare, or Gran Me as he is also called, created our world, he grew tired of his great deed and moved further along the path of life, leaving the higher powers and the Loa to take care of things. We, the wizards, can communicate with them through rituals and sacrifices and receive help in our endeavours. Both good and evil, the old man continued, flashing his eyes.
There are a huge number of Loa in our world. There are good ones, like Rada, and there are ones like Petro, which can be either neutral or evil. Often, the same spirit can have different aspects, both good and evil. I will teach you to summon them all, and it will be up to you to decide which aspect of the Loa will appear," smiled the Berber. "Any thing can be a continuation or manifestation of a particular Loa and serve it. It happens that during rituals, Loa even enter the summoner or those involved in the ritual. This can either grant great power or drive one mad," said Igideru. "Now try to enter a trance and look around with your spiritual vision.
Cassius made himself comfortable and closed his eyes. Having achieved the right mood, he opened his eyes and froze. Around him and Idigeru there were many shapeless entities hanging in the air, in things and household items. The old magician reached out and took the nearest entity, resembling a winged snake, into his hand. "This is one of the projections of the great snake Danbala-Vedo, which will allow you to learn Parseltongue, the language of snakes," he said. "It is often spoken by truly dark magicians, and many useful manuscripts are written in it." The old Berber threw some powder into the air, and it immediately burst into a glowing circle.
"Now take this Loa in your hand and ask him to help you learn the language of snakes," he ordered.
Cassius stretched out his hand and felt something cool in it. He mentally asked for help in learning Parseltongue and felt information flowing into his head. There was quite a lot of it, but he was well trained in meditation and absorbed everything with ease. After a while, the flow stopped, and Cassius opened his eyes. Igi-der looked at the boy and hissed something. Looking at him in confusion, Cassius suddenly felt the threatening hiss forming into words right inside his head.
"Do you understand me, Cassius?" he heard.
"Yes, mentor," replied the boy. At first, he didn't even realise that he had hissed the words himself.
"I can now speak Parseltongue and understand snakes?" the child asked in surprise. "It turns out it's so easy.
The old Berber smiled:
"Everything in this world has a price, Cassius. If it were otherwise, our magicians would be the most powerful in the world. You wouldn't need to study at a school of magic, make a deal with the Loa and get everything handed to you on a plate, but magic doesn't work like that.
"The Loa demand sacrifices from magicians," he said sternly. "And the harder the task, the greater the sacrifice. Not every Loa will be able to do what you want. Some will try to take over your body and use it for themselves. So there is a lot of risk in this magic," continued Igideru. "It all depends on your power, but even that does not guarantee success in every case. The Loa interact with magicians and ordinary simpletons, and serve those who serve them. Each Loa has its own colour, day, ceremonial food that must be brought to the altar during the ritual, and certain ritual objects. Only we, the magicians, can buy off the spirits with a fraction of our magical power or by sacrificing the fools who stand in your way," the old Berber glanced at the stone altar to the side, on which a bundle of skulls was hanging, "or your enemies. And the simple-minded who bring sacrifices to the Loa and even pray to them as gods. They pay with their lives, and sometimes with their souls. With the help of certain black magic rituals, a magician can himself become a Loa after death, sighed Igideru, but this is not the best path for a wizard.
The old magician looked somewhere through Cassius:
"Perhaps, young wizard, the best path is to be reborn and start all over again," he chuckled. "Although some grandmasters of magic, like your teacher, for example, can to some extent ignore time. When I was just a child and had not even ridden my first camel, he already came to the desert and even communicated with my grandfather. And that was before the white people came to Africa at all.
"But you're not black either, just dark-skinned, mentor?" Cassius asked in surprise. "Not like a teacher."I told you that my ancestors came from a light-skinned people who used to live somewhere on an island in the ocean," the old man shrugged. "There were black people there, and people like us. Then, because of some disaster, my people were forced to come here. And even then, it was mostly those who were already here on business who were lucky. The rest, apparently, angered Gran Me, and the island simply disappeared with all its inhabitants.
***
The month flew by unnoticed for Cassius. At night they walked through the desert, and during the day they studied magic in the tent. Cassius quickly fell into the rhythm of the tribe's simple life. He helped look after the camels, pitched tents with everyone else, and gathered supplies for the fire. Only Igideru possessed magic in the tribe, but he did not recognise any secrecy. Everyone knew that he was a sorcerer and that Cassius was his apprentice, albeit a temporary one. Often, at night, while travelling through the desert on a camel, the old Amazigh would tell Cassius about the stars, how they influenced magical rituals, and how the positions of the stars could help or harm the preparation of potions and elixirs. Cassius found everything interesting. He eagerly absorbed the wisdom of the old magician and enjoyed communicating with the simple Berbers.
To his surprise, the women were the leaders of the tribe. Although the chief, a man, was in charge of all military affairs, all other matters were in the hands of the women. Moreover, when a young man married a woman from the tribe, he joined her family, not the other way around. The women of the tribe were very beautiful and, unlike the men, did not have to hide their faces. Until that day, there had not been a single dangerous incident on the entire journey to Algeria. The desert was empty and incredibly vast, and it was only possible to meet other travellers at water sources.
Upon reaching Timgad, a city long abandoned in the desert since the days of the Roman Empire, the caravan stopped to rest. Cassius was in genuine shock as he gazed at the ruins of the ancient city. How could such a huge stone city have been built in the middle of the desert, when the Atlas Mountains, where stone could be obtained, were so far away? Who built it and why did they abandon it? The most surprising thing was that, if you looked closely at the ruins, they all seemed to be destroyed at almost the same height, as if they had been neatly cut with a razor. "What kind of magic would it take to destroy a city like this?" Cassius shook his head in amazement.
Already setting up tents in the shade of the ruins, Cassius noticed another caravan approaching the spring. The tribe's warriors became agitated, and one of them ran to the old magician's tent to warn him. Tired from the night, the old man was dozing in his tent and did not participate in the daily bustle of the tribe. Now, squinting in the bright sun, he came out of the tent discontentedly and looked at the approaching camels.
"Those are Tuaregs, probably from Jene," he finally said, continuing to watch the caravan. "They must have been attacked by bandits along the way; there are many wounded." The caravan finally came closer, and the others also noticed that the caravan drivers had been in some kind of trouble. The leader of the caravan, wrapped in a blue cloak like everyone else, came over to greet them.
"Greetings, honoured ones," he began in a hoarse voice. "We are merchants from Tunisia. We were travelling from Tuggurt to Setif, but near Lake Melgir, we encountered the Zuaves and barely managed to fight them off. Our mage defended the caravan to the last, but in the end he was killed, and many of our warriors were also wounded," he nodded sadly at his men.
Igider shook his head warily: "Zouaves never abandon their prey. They will pursue a wounded animal like hyenas until they devour it. We must prepare for an attack. Even the fact that there are two caravans here will not stop the bandits."
After giving orders and carrying their wounded tribesmen into the shade, the Tuaregs began to check their weapons. Cassius looked curiously at the pistols and rifles of the simple nomads. Of course, he had seen similar weapons in Kinshasa, but here many of them were very old, if not ancient.
Iguider called Cassius into his tent and began preparations for the next ritual.
"Now we will ask Loa to scout the area around the ruins. The Zouaves can't be too far away," he said tensely. "They were definitely following the caravan.
After performing the ritual to summon the Loa and explaining their request to the spirit, they found themselves floating in the air above the majestic ruins of Timgad. Cassius could even make out the snow-capped peak of Jebel Chela in the distance. Turning his gaze back to the camp, Cassius began to carefully examine the surrounding area. About a league from the sea, Cassius noticed dust being kicked up by a group of camels.
"Three hundred men," his teacher's voice rang in his head. "They'll be here in half an hour." Interrupting their ritual, the magicians hurriedly left the tent.
"There are three hundred of them, and they will be here very soon," said the old magician. "Hide the women and the wounded, and arm yourselves.
Everyone immediately ran about, carrying out orders.
"What should we do?" asked Cassius. "We don't have any weapons."
"We are ourselves, and we are weapons," said Igideru. "Now is the perfect opportunity to use some of what I taught you. First, summon the spirit of Loa, who grants physical strength and resistance to kinetic weapons. Second, try to use your telekinesis. Perhaps one of the Zouaves has protective amulets, in which case, influence the camels or objects. But try not to kill anyone," the old Berber smiled predatorily. "We will need sacrifices for the ritual, and I will have to call on Legba and Erzulie to heal all the wounded.
Cassius spent the next half hour in agony, overcome by fear. Despite the fact that after the ritual to strengthen his body, he felt he could jump five metres into the air or break a column with his fist, it was simply terrifying. "I'm only twelve years old, what war?" he said nervously, pressing himself into the sand behind a fallen column. But when the bandits appeared within the camp shouting, his fear disappeared without a trace. Cassius mentally reached out with telekinesis to the first bandit and pulled his leg. The man lost his balance and immediately flew into the dust beneath the feet of the running camels. Shots rang out from all sides, and there was no time to be afraid. Bullets whistled over Cassius's head, but he was not afraid of being wounded and continued to pull one bandit after another with his telekinesis. Telekinesis did not work on some of the Zouaves, apparently because of their protective amulets, but Igiaderu's tribesmen and their unwitting Tuareg comrades dealt with them quite well.
Despite the large number of attackers, the battle was over fairly quickly. Having been seriously repelled, the remaining members of the Zouave gang turned around and silently rushed into the desert, their numbers greatly reduced from when they had first attacked the camp. The well-trained warriors of the tribe mowed down most of the attackers without much difficulty. Of course, there were wounded and even killed among the defenders of the camp, but all those killed belonged to the Tuareg caravan. An experienced magician had performed the necessary ritual on all the warriors of the tribe in advance. Now some of the tribesmen were tying up the wounded bandits and dragging them into a pile. Those who screamed and tried to resist were quickly beaten on the head with a special club covered with camel skin. When everything was ready, a clear night had fallen, and the stars seemed to hang directly above the newly erected tents. The old Berber lit a low bonfire, and the bandits were dragged closer to it on one side, while the wounded tribesmen and allies were dragged closer on the other. Amazigh called Cassius over and explained the essence of the ritual and his role in it.
"Now I will cut the throats of the Zuavas one by one, and you will collect the blood in this bowl and sprinkle it over the fire towards the wounded," ordered the old man. "I will recite a spell to the Loa for the healing of our people.
Cassius was still feverish from the battle, so he calmly accepted the dark mage's proposal. "After all," he thought, "if it weren't for us, the bodies of our warriors would now be covered with sand, and the women of the tribe would have been taken for entertainment by these bandits. This world is cruel, and it's not for me to play the noble here. If I asked my mentor to let the bandits go just like that, he wouldn't understand me or would think I'd gone mad. No one in their right mind would let the enemy go alive in this world. Besides, if we don't help our wounded now, many of them won't live to see the morning."
Igider worked like a conveyor belt, and Cassius simply had no time for self-reflection. With his spiritual vision, he saw how after each sacrifice, a certain amount of magical energy was released from the bodies of the slain, some of which went up into the sky, and some of which passed through the fire and entered the wounded. Some of them even began to get up, feeling relieved as they touched themselves and the places where bullet wounds had been just a moment ago. When the last bandit was sent to be reborn, the old mage breathed a sigh of relief.
The bloody ritual had not been easy for him. Cassius, himself covered in blood, looked no better. Supporting and directing the magical flow in the right direction was a very difficult task, but nevertheless, he felt that he had become much stronger as a wizard. His magic circulated like a well-fed snake, slowly washing away the fatigue throughout his body. Filling a mug from a wineskin, he brought it to his mentor first.
The old Amazigh drank and sat down on the blood-stained sand near the burnt-out fire, smiling at Cassius.
"You make me happy, my student," said Igideru. "Not everyone your age is capable of undergoing such a ritual. Many in your place would not even be able to look at such a thing, but you endured. You must feel your magic growing stronger now, right?" The old man smiled knowingly. "During the ritual, such energies raged here that your magical core and channels began to develop at tremendous speed. It's a pity that it's useless in old age," he sighed.
"Yeah, right," Cassius grinned, "otherwise, the old dark magicians would have slaughtered their victims like chickens.
"You know," Igideru said seriously. "In ancient times, many did just that. But now, if such a mage is caught red-handed, the entire magical community turns against him. Many dark mages have tried to carry out mass sacrifices, but it always ends badly. Our bodies simply cannot withstand such power, and besides, the evil Loa quickly drive mad those magicians who are eager for free power. Not many of us have withstood this test. Many want to make sacrifices again and again. On your continent, they even invented special spells that drain power from victims, some gradually and some immediately. These are "Cruciatus" and "Avada Kedavra." Those who use them constantly also often feel a surge of magic and even become stronger. But it is not for nothing that these spells are called forbidden. In addition to power, the mage also gains madness. And a mad black mage? That's always scary. The whole world has to fight against one. Of course, you can invite another black mage for such a battle, but for most ordinary people, it would just be replacing one evil with another, and he laughed hoarsely.
When they finally arrived in Bir el Jir, Chibuzo Inu was already waiting for them in a café not far from the pier. Idigeru, who had left his caravan in a fairly modern hotel in the commercial district, brought Cassius to meet his teacher. After greeting each other and sitting down at a table, the venerable magicians began a leisurely conversation about the past month and the student's successes, while Cassius was sent to take a walk to Fort Santa Cruz, where the platforms at its top offer a view of the huge coastal city. After walking around and looking through binoculars at the city, which was quite modern even by European standards, Cassius returned to his teacher.
Pleased, Chibuzo Inu gave him time to say goodbye to Idigeru. The old magician hugged Malfoy and said:
"Never stop being a magician. Learn something new all the time. I believe that you will grow up to be a worthy successor to us, your teachers." Without another word, the old Berber turned and walked easily up the street, the hem of his bright blue cloak fluttering in the sea breeze.
Chibuzo did not linger either. Glancing once more at the old man's retreating back, he pulled an old oil lamp from somewhere in his bosom, similar to the lamp from an oriental fairy tale about a genie. Taking hold of the lamp with his teacher, within a few seconds they were standing on the estate's apparatus platform.
***
In the deep dungeons, below which there was nothing, a meeting of the best representatives of the goblin people was taking place in a small stone cave. A lifeless bluish light poured from the stone walls and fell on the faces of the goblins sitting on stone chairs. These goblins were not very similar to those that humans had seen in the bank. These creatures now looked much more like warriors than bankers. The head of the Gringott clan, who had been thoughtfully examining the stone floor in front of him, raised his head.
"Greetings, friends," he croaked in a loud, harsh voice. "We are gathered here today to discuss an important matter that concerns our entire people. Our wise men have discovered the reason for the infertility of our women. Yes, we are dying out," he continued maliciously. "We live longer than humans, of course, but not so much longer that we can afford to ignore our birth rate. Ragnuk the First, that self-important idiot, made a sword for Godric Gryffindor, one of the greatest wizards of the tenth century. Then he tried to use his warriors to take the sword from him. In response, Gryffindor cursed our entire people, and since in those days there was no division between light and dark wizards, Gryffindor, who is considered light and revered today, especially by light wizards, knew how to curse. Since then, fewer and fewer children have been born to our people with each generation. At first, it was imperceptible, because we live long lives, but now it has become obvious. Over the past ten years, no more than thirty children have been born to our people, to all those living under the mountains of this world. Thirty children!" Grintott shouted, unable to contain his emotions. "And the curse is still in effect," he growled. "The wise men, through rituals and appeals to the great Mother, have discovered that the curse is still bound to the sword of Gryffindor. Until we return and destroy the sword, the curse will continue to work. And the sword is connected to the source of Hogwarts, which means that the curse will never die because it is fed by Hogwarts itself. And the most disgusting thing," continued the goblin, calming down a little. "For the curse to be lifted, it's not enough to simply take the sword and destroy it. It must be given to us by the wizard who is its new owner, and he must do so willingly. A dark wizard, and where are we going to find one in England? With the help of the magnificent diamonds supplied by your administration," he nodded towards the two old goblins standing a little apart. "We have created an artefact that slows down the curse a little. But to keep it working, we need more diamonds, lots of them. Bargok and Gablrok," he said to the old goblins, "initiate negotiations with the Malfoys and the Blacks, perhaps they can increase the supply of African diamonds. Only thanks to these stones are we able to maintain sufficient magical power in the artefact. Promise them anything, but within reason. Don't let people see how important this is to us. Well, I don't need to teach you that," he said, baring his teeth. "You can even sacrifice some of our products if necessary; the council will not object.
The goblins bowed silently to their leader and left quietly. Left alone in the darkness, Grigott gazed thoughtfully at his long fingers with sharp claws, his hands trembling slightly. "If this plan fails, our entire people will face death," he thought. "And where can we find a dark wizard strong and sane enough to become the sword's master and then give it to us willingly? I have no idea. As long as the great light wizard rules Hogwarts, it's impossible for dark wizards to grow to a normal level there. There are no teachers, no books. There was hope for that half-blood Reddle, but now even that is gone. The idiot managed to die without even taking power in magical England into his own hands," the goblin gritted his sharp teeth. "And we helped him and his party with gold and artefacts, and even with our connections on the mainland."
Gringott cursed all the wizards on Gobble-duck and moved silently upstairs, slouching his shoulders.
***
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