Regarding self-education. From the beginning of August, I wanted to sit down to study the local school curriculum to form my opinion about magic, but decided that books won't run away, while starting training complexes for physical load is just the time. But for this, one needs to decide; what training exactly?
I decided that it is worth engaging in an elven semblance of gymnastics for a start and developing speed with plasticity. In parallel, this can be combined with a semblance of strength training; you create a sword or a training bracelet with magic, and exercise. Elves basically do not have strength exercises like lifting weights and the like. Their development can be called natural and harmonious. The only thing with which they complicate life for themselves during training is a magical bracelet simulating increased load on the body, complexly. Thus that bar is bypassed when armor and sword become too light to consider working with them a load.
Creating a sword is a matter of a couple of minutes. Only earth and knowledge of a couple of magical seals and contours are needed. But where to put it afterward? A problem. A solution does not immediately come to mind, which means the idea with the sword needs to be set aside for now. Especially since looking at me from the mirror is a very cute dark-haired boy, but puny to the point of pain. Makes you want to shed a stingy tear. And eating my fill doesn't work out yet either; in that "vegetative" state I ate exactly enough not to feel hunger, and that is really little. Right now for me, attempts to practice with a sword are a sophisticated attempt at suicide.
Having dotted all the "i's," one day, while parents left for work, I sneaked into high bushes, sat on my knees, leveled the earth at the roots with my palm, and imagined how a round contour of three runic circles one inside another forms on the surface. I have no earth energy, and converting it from the earth underfoot is tantamount to spoiling the landscape and a short-term increase in the magical background. Therefore I directed neutral energy into the imaginary contour and as it filled with energy, the contour began to glow dimly gray in the visible spectrum, gradually transitioning into brown. The calculated energy costs exceeded twenty percent and only after that did the contour activate.
The result is a simple and thin metal bracelet. Thought with my head properly, and destroyed it, creating a wider one. The thing is that the enchantment is quite voluminous, and making it too small is problematic without tools. Here, it would seem, an experienced mage, but dependent on tools like an ordinary person on his technological environment. And to make a tool, another tool is needed, and for that, another. And so many times. Horror!
Amidst reflections on tools, I created a magical contour to fix the transformation of the obtained bracelet and immediately shoved into it an enchantment contour for emulation of physical load. Outwardly the bracelet did not change in any way, remaining just as simple, wide, with a metallic sheen. Without doubts putting it on my arm, I felt not a gram of weight, and the bracelet also tightened exactly to the width of the arm. Running a finger over it exactly as in memories, I felt heaviness, from which I hunched slightly. Moving was hard, as if in wet clothes. In a large amount of wet clothes. Hmm. One can use such a thing generally on a constant basis, only slightly weaker. The bracelet will always adapt the force of impact, and I won't feel improvements, but at the same time, after turning it off, no need to adapt to these very improvements. And also, the load from the bracelet will not oppress body growth. Well, it simulates load complexly, and under the constant action of gravity, the body can develop not as it should; that is not present here.
Entering the house and washing off the sweat that appeared from intense concentration in the shower, I went to empty the fridge, and afterward, until the very evening, sat at books, sometimes breaking for a semblance of gymnastics, squats, and push-ups. Banality, but useful.
In the evening parents arrived from work, and at dinner, I shared with them impressions from read books.
In such a vein flew one day after another. Every week I updated magic contours in my body, read the most varied books, got irritated by the uselessness of the computer, stubbornly engaged in physical training, tried to eat and drink a lot.
My memory worked excellently, and I truly memorized everything from the first time, and not only verbatim but also in a sense, with understanding of what was read and seen. Textbooks on local magic gave me some idea about the school of wizardry in this world. Here wizardry via will, desire, and imagination combined with various runes, mathematical calculations, interpretation of meanings of numbers in a mystical sense, and so on. For example, Transfiguration. From experience, I can say that one can transform one object into another via bare will. However, textbooks speak of the necessity of knowledge of formulas and precise calculations. This can also quite be called correct, for the mind sets the form for wizardry. Let me express myself perhaps not quite correctly, but passing energy through the prism of the mind holding a magic formula, at the output we truly receive the necessary transformation.
Charms are wizardry via gesture, word, will, imagination. Yes, one can cast spells without all this in the presence of corresponding energy in large quantities and a couple of basic contours and symbols, but here... Everything is somehow strange.
I memorized the meager "instructions" for spells, and you cannot call them otherwise, according to the curriculum for three years and a bit of household charms from my sister's notes. For now, it is hard to draw conclusions, and it is worth looking at wizards in their natural habitat; at Hogwarts.
Hermione never appeared in the house, only wrote off with an owl that from certain Weasleys she would immediately head to Hogwarts, wishes everyone goodness, peace, love, and bubblegum, everything is great with her. That's all. The insolent bird didn't even wait for an answer; handed over the letter and flew away. Oh well.
I slightly improved my physical state over August, which is not surprising. Life energy, youth, a growing healthy organism that becomes even healthier by the hour, abundant nutrition, and life by schedule; it's a sin not to develop! Of course, I did not become an athlete; a quite normal thirteen-year-old guy, taller than average, face became slightly prettier, hair still just as black, and eyes blue. Now at least one does not want to feed me as soon as possible. True, I had to update the wardrobe slightly again, but this concerned only ordinary things; the bought school uniform and robes adjusted to size themselves; I think this is a product of local enchantment or artifact crafting. Pity that they don't use constructs and seals here, and understanding something simply by holding a thing in hands is almost impossible.
On August thirty-first, I was packed and equipped for the trip to Hogwarts. All necessary items and bought supplies, books, stationery, socks-underwear, and other junk; everything successfully fit into the triangular backpack on one strap begged from parents, bought, and personally enchanted by myself. Yes, one of the few constructs that I know is for creating a hiking bag. Had to use it often in travels.
About conditions in terms of parameters... Well, it is hard to judge. The bracelet adapts to my successes and it is just as hard for me to train as the first time, however, I last not for a couple of dozen different movements or a ten-minute warm-up, but for a full-fledged series of movements and almost an hour of exercises, somewhat reminding of Wushu. Or does Wushu remind of elven training complexes-dances?
Sorcery... Well yes, I memorized, but did not learn the spells. The reason for my difficulties is very simple; I direct magic in threads, so to speak. Shards of lives integrated so boldly into my soul that restoring control was simple, but another problem came; reflex. Practically all magic, all constructs, runes, and so on, that I brought with me from these shards, required precisely precise and fine control of energies, the skill to direct them strictly and only in the form of threads, preventing dispersion. This plays a cruel joke on me, for I unconsciously direct them that way, while local sorcery is based on plumes of magic released through a wand. Exactly plumes, that are like streams of smoke, and I did not practice such things. But, it seems to me, this is just a matter of time and practice. I need to learn to "let go" of magic, and only then feel, realize, and learn to make these plumes consciously, without a wand.
In general, nothing is clear in local magic, but it is very interesting.
On the morning of September first, I was fully ready for labor and defense, having dressed in advance in a school uniform of trousers, a shirt, a sweater, and a tie. Naturally, it did not go without shoes. Good patent leather shoes, although, they are still half-boots. Robes and other personal items lay in the backpack, like everything else, while the school trunk traveled practically empty. I did not disdain and applied a whole complex of magical contours and enchantments on clothes to improve their practicality and durability paired with support for comfortable conditions. Parents, in honor of my first dispatch to school as a student in general, and to Hogwarts in particular, decided to be late for work. I faced not a classic trip by train and boats, but sending by fireplace, and not in the morning, but almost in the evening. Therefore I listened to instructions about good behavior, worries, and so on. Only at half-past six in the afternoon did the doorbell ring in the house.
Professor McGonagall personally came for me, made sure that I was fine and ready for studies, and even Apparated together with me to the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. The sensation from moving in such a harsh way, when you are literally dragged through a puncture in space the size of a needle's eye, was indescribable, and in attempts to normalize my "inner world," I didn't even notice how we flew by fireplace to another pub, gloomy and severe. The barman there matched the pub; tall, powerful, bearded.
"Hello, Aberforth," the professor greeted, receiving only a nod.
There were no visitors in the pub and we did not linger, exiting immediately.
The fresh air was incredibly pleasant, and I even allowed myself to stop slightly and take a couple of deep breaths.
"Is everything alright, Mr. Granger?"
"Yes, yes, Professor. The air here is painfully clean."
"Nature, lake, forest. Hogwarts is located in a very good place both from a magical and natural point of view."
"I fully agree with you, Professor."
Outside the weather was cloudy and I would not be surprised if a thunderstorm with rain plays out soon; ahead, at the end of the path, wooden and stone houses with high and sharp roof slopes were visible. Soft light of lights burned in the houses and everything would be fine, but the weather was gloomy. And a strange sensation...
"Something is wrong around, Professor," I noted while we walked to Hogwarts.
"This year the castle will be guarded by Dementors," McGonagall grew stern.
"And when did the school turn into a branch of Azkaban?"
"You know about Dementors and Azkaban?"
"I like to read and collect information. It is important."
"I agree. Such measures were taken by the Ministry of Magic in connection with the escape of Sirius Black."
"Heard of it. Even among ordinary people, they warned on the evening news."
Some tiny shards of knowledge about Dementors spun in my head, and I received them clearly not in this world; here only from books. The Patronus Charm, relating to higher light magic, as they call it here; that is their weakness. Will need to study it by all means.
When we passed the village and almost reached Hogwarts, literally before its gates I felt a sharp cooling, steam came from my mouth, and in magic, the clear presence of quite advanced undead was felt. Sharply turning on the spot and pulling out my wand, I aimed it at a five of appeared subjects. Huge black robes hovering above the ground. Dark voids under the hood, hems of robes tattered, like the sleeves, shreds from which moved as if underwater; smoothly and slowly.
The professor did not delay turning around and aiming her wand at them. Some negative... Negative negatives began to literally roll over my emotions, one cannot even say it differently! As if someone desperately tried to sway my bad memories, plunging me into depression. Won't work; I hung a bunch of protection on the mental long ago. But how vile it is. Even the professor turned pale.
"This is not the wizard you are looking for," the professor pronounced strictly. "Sirius Black is not here."
The Dementors hung in the air for some time and flew away, while McGonagall imperceptibly caught her breath, as did I. I have several ways of fighting undead in my stash, but I haven't tried them with a magic wand, like much else; this concentrator and conductor is quite unique and directs magic somewhat differently from the usual. Speaking of magic without a wand, as I know how, is out of the question; one should keep such abilities in secret and then they will be aces up the sleeve.
"Follow me," McGonagall said more strictly than before.
A couple of minutes later we passed through the towering double doors of the main entrance of Hogwarts and went along quite dark corridors. The sound of steps on the stone floor rolled in a hollow echo through the corridors and got lost there, in the darkness under the ceiling, where almost no light fell; it is evening dark outside the window, and they didn't turn on the light in the castle. Is the time inappropriate or something? Saving on torches?
McGonagall led me to large doors, pushed them lightly with her hand, and we entered a large hall. Four long tables stretched almost the entire hall, and on that side was a small podium on which stood another table, perpendicular to those four. Behind it already sat, bored, a small man in a tailcoat and green robe. Mustache, neat round glasses.
While we walked to that far table on the podium, the man perked up and looked at me with interest.
"Minerva," he spoke. "This, as I understand, is young Mr. Granger?"
"Precisely, Filius," McGonagall nodded and addressed me. "Sit for now somewhere nearby, at any table. Other students will arrive soon. You will undergo the sorting ceremony last."
"Good, Professor."
I sat on a bench at the first table I came across and began to wait. A few minutes later teachers began to gather and sit at the table to which I was led.
"Mr. Granger," a familiar voice rang out behind, and turning around I saw the Headmaster.
"Hello, Headmaster."
Dumbledore smiled into his beard, while the light reflected intricately in his half-moon glasses.
"How do you like the Great Hall of Hogwarts?"
I glanced around, inspected the illusion of a gloomy sky covered in clouds on the ceiling. The Headmaster waved his hand and a multitude of burning candles hovering in the air appeared above the tables.
"Amusing charms on the ceiling, sir."
"Very... Succinct, yes," the Headmaster nodded. "Well, the students are already on the way. I think I should take my place too."
The Headmaster approached the teachers' table and sat on a large throne-like chair. Soon, all places at the teachers' table were occupied. These were quite colorful people, from stern and gloomy to cheerful and positive. There was even a huge and shaggy man with a shaggy beard here. Probably some half-breed.
Literally a couple of minutes later, students of different ages poured into the hall in a crowd. They were somehow a bit soaked, battered, sluggish, pale, and frightened, but quickly coming to their senses. Everyone wore school uniforms and robes with colored linings. They sat at tables in accordance with color; I sat at the one with those in blue. Ravenclaw, if one believes "Hogwarts: A History."
Quickly taking a robe out of the backpack, I threw it over myself and turned as if I were sitting at the table. They paid minimum attention to me, talking about their own things. As turned out from these conversations, Dementors visited the train with children and many felt bad; very pernicious influence this undead has.
For about ten minutes the hall hummed quietly with voices, and then the doors of the hall opened again, and Professor McGonagall led a small crowd of new arrivals behind her. The first-years did not look very good. Lost and shocked, but they recovered quickly, looking at the beautiful illusion charms under the ceiling.
The professor led them to the podium. They brought out a stool, placed the Sorting Hat on it. It seemed to come alive and a semblance of a face formed from the folds, immediately dragging out a song, missing the notes.
After such a peculiar concert, Professor McGonagall took a parchment and began reading the names of first-years from it alphabetically. The named one walked out of the crowd, sat on the stool facing the house tables, and the Hat was put on his head. It shouted the house where the first-year is to study to the entire hall either immediately or after thinking a bit loudly, after which the hat is removed, and the student heads to the table of his house.
As I noticed, the distribution was plus-minus even, but slightly more students entered Gryffindor after all. Hmm, and Hermione studies in Gryffindor.
The professor did not go anywhere, although first-years ran out. Here the Headmaster rose from his seat, approached the lectern on which a golden animated owl with spread wings and a pair of candles on candlesticks showed off.
"Before finishing the sorting ceremony, I would like to say a few words," the Headmaster spoke. "To begin with, today not only first-years came to us for the first time as students but also another young man. Two years ago he could not enter the first year together with everyone due to health conditions and was undergoing treatment. This year he, to our universal joy, will be able to join our friendly collective."
Dumbledore nodded, while McGonagall looked at me and loudly, just like past names, pronounced:
"Granger Hector."
I stood up and briskly moved to the stool, turned sharply, flaring the hem of the robe, sat down, and immediately the hat was put on my head. Silence. Silence. A light mental scan, not touching memory, but evaluating personality.
"How interesting, yes..." the voice of the hat rang out from all sides.
It seems, a sort of mental broadcast.
"...And where should I send you?"
"I don't know, respected hat," I directed words to this amusing artifact just as mentally. "I didn't prepare for such a question, and I have no personal preferences. Over there, sister studies in Gryffindor."
"Decisive and purposeful, I see. You, young man, would look not bad in Ravenclaw too. I feel that you can be a very extraordinary personality. Hufflepuff will meet your diligence with open arms."
"One does not need to belong to some house to show proper traits of character. This is only your own choice."
"Well, in that case..."
"Hufflepuff!" the hat shouted to the entire hall.
The dwarf inside me rejoices. If one believes the books, then a friendly collective, labor, and life in the dungeon await me. If only someone would provide ale with meat too. What kind of nonsense is in the head?
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