[September 8th, Saturday, Black Manor. 11:57 AM]
The Black family, in addition to their ancestral home — hidden from the world, where the head of the house lived with his wife and direct descendants — also owned a manor specifically for receptions. This was where the cadet branches of this enormous family resided, numbering more than forty members. The manor itself was built in a medieval, somber style — perfectly fitting for such a dark and storied family.
Around the manor stretched a well-kept park, with winding paths, hidden gazebos, and secluded spots where one could speak quietly without attracting unwanted attention. Yet, all these paths converged on a circular plaza, at the center of which stood a statue of a hellhound — a black dog without skin, its red eyes glowing ominously. Few knew that this was once a real hound, whose body had been turned into an undead guardian by one of the family's necromancers.
Orion Black, together with his wife Walburga, waited for the guests to arrive. The artifacts were set so that, within an hour, guests would arrive every minute, each group deposited onto a special platform. The portkeys were group-based, so people would appear not one by one, but often as entire families — depending on the size of the family and their desire to show respect to the Blacks.
The least respected guests would arrive first, and the last to appear would be members of the twenty-eight sacred families and those closest to the Blacks. That was why it was no surprise when Arthur Marlow appeared first, accompanied by his companion.
He wore a white three-piece suit, a saber at his belt, and a black shirt. His companion, in contrast, was dressed in a form-fitting black evening gown that accentuated her still youthful, but already striking figure — her blonde curls and milky skin exposed at the shoulders. The eye was drawn to her décolletage, adorned with a complex platinum necklace and a tiara woven into her elaborate hairstyle.
Looking at them, one might think they were a prince and princess arriving at a ball. But if you could hear their thoughts, the picture would be quite different.
*Damn portkey, what kind of blind fool made this thing? If I hadn't fixed it, we would have landed flat on our faces!* Arthur fumed inwardly, cursing the artificer in every way.
*Maybe it was on purpose. I sensed some annoyance from those meeting us,* Dorothea replied, flashing a fleeting smile at their greeters.
*You might be right. By the way, did I tell you that you look amazing?*
*Already six times, but I'm happy to hear it again, master,* Dorothea replied, a little breathless.
*It was a bad idea to send you to pick a dress with my mother. She's taught you all the wrong things,* Arthur thought, shaking his head mentally. *By the way, how do you like the tiara? Do you like it?*
*It really speeds up my thinking, sharpens my mind, and I can even access your knowledge — unless you close yourself off.*
*Interesting, interesting. It does the same for me, but I hadn't tried the knowledge-sharing part. After I removed the soul fragment, I ran a couple of tests and it seemed safe. But why did you want to wear it so much?* Marlow asked.
*I just liked it,* the girl explained, a little embarrassed. *Is that a problem?*
*Unlikely. There are plenty of copies of this tiara. The fashion for them has already passed. But I think it's ironic that the original will be seen as a fake by everyone.*
"Good afternoon, I'm Orion Black," the host introduced himself first — even if he didn't like the guest and the guest was much lower in status. "This is my wife Walburga, and our sons, Sirius and Regulus."
"Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Black," Marlow bowed just enough to show respect, but no more. "My name is Arthur Marlow, and this is my beautiful fiancée, Dorothea Black."
A wave of irritation washed over Marlow from most of the family members, except Orion and a couple of others. Sirius, in particular, radiated irritation — he was already annoyed at having to attend this event and stand here for an hour, serving as a display piece.
Walburga couldn't maintain her composure and, grimacing, turned away — not very becoming for an aristocrat, but she believed this half-blood wasn't worthy of even speaking with them, let alone entering the glorious Black manor.
"Bella, escort the guests inside," Orion said. From behind the door stepped a young, stunningly beautiful brunette in a black dress, her face showing no emotion at all. Her naturally curly hair was arranged in a sculpted bun — walking around wizarding society with loose hair was not only improper, but dangerous, as leaving your hair everywhere was a very bad idea.
Only as a mental mage and empath did Marlow catch something strange — as if the girl's thoughts were splitting. She felt both disgust and a hint of sympathy toward him at the same time. He had only seen this once before, when he met a madman in Paris who spoke in two voices at once.
"Follow me, Mr. Marlow and Miss… Black," Bella said, and Arthur noticed how much this grated on the Blacks. He understood that they were interested not so much in him and his artifact, but in his engagement to the adopted daughter of the exiled Black. However, one thing did not preclude the other.
Inside, the manor looked more like the familiar Victorian style. Heating and cooling charms created a comfortable temperature — not like it usually is in houses made of natural stone. Hal, for now, had to hide the restoration of Hogwarts and couldn't turn on the heating charms there, which didn't add to the students' comfort. Soon, though, he would activate them when most of the work was done, and let the headmaster figure out how it happened and try to find the culprit.
Maybe, Arthur thought, he would blame it all on a self-restoration system or something like that.
"It's quite cozy here," Arthur said to his escort, activating true sight. Bella was definitely strange — her astral body was a dark, mottled gray. "But you can tell the protection system was once powered by sacrifices."
"Do you disapprove?" she asked, curious — not everyone could determine that at a glance, certainly not a school student.
"Merlin forbid, just professional interest. I only disapprove of outright dark magic, human filth, and senseless cruelty," he replied.
"So you approve of meaningful cruelty?" she asked, more interested.
"If other methods are less effective or won't lead to the desired result, then yes. Many people consider violence completely unacceptable, even when it's necessary," Marlow hinted at a certain white-bearded old man. Of course, the old man himself usually held such an opinion only regarding himself, sending others to fight and die for his convictions. "But the main thing is not to cross the line and not to consider cruelty and violence the only acceptable method."
"Interesting words. I hope you really think so," Bella ended the topic, while Arthur tried to subtly influence her with empathy. This was ten times more difficult due to the girl's duality. "Here's the great ballroom. Wait for the reception to begin here. You can rest on the sofas or take a walk in the garden. If you want to eat or drink something, just ask a house-elf."
"Thank you for the escort, Miss Black," Arthur nodded, and Dorothea did the same. Bella left to meet the next guest — she didn't have time for a personal tour.
The ballroom was a separate wing with many doors opening into the garden. Now they were wide open, letting in the aroma of roses — not ordinary roses, but black and extremely poisonous ones. The hall itself and the floor were paneled with expensive light-brown sandalwood, which — thanks to charms — still emitted a faint, ethereal aroma even after centuries.
Between the exits to the garden stood many small sofas, on one of which Marlow sat down with Dorothea. Somehow he felt uncomfortable in the hall, constantly communicating with Hal and Dorothea.
*How do you like it here?*
*It's quite gloomy, and the sensations from death and dark magic aren't very pleasant, even though the first has almost dissipated. The surrounding charms also seem to press down. And our escort — there's something strange about her,* Dorothea noted, sitting closer to her master and lover. She was even somewhat glad that he had finally paid attention to her as a woman and given her unimaginable pleasure. Appetite, as is known, awakens during eating.
*You noticed too? I think she has a split personality. Either congenital, or Gaunt worked on her so she became possessed by the Dark Lord. This could be attributed to teenage fanaticism or a religious sect, but not expected from an adult witch raised in the best rules of purebloods — proud of herself and her lineage.*
*Or in the worst ones.*
*Also true.*
Guests began slowly but surely filling the hall. Some went to the garden, some stood or sat alone like Marlow, but most gathered in groups by interests, occasionally migrating from one to another. Arthur didn't know anyone here and didn't strive to attach himself to someone, understanding that he was a white crow here. He knew this fact, which is why he wore a white suit.
Suddenly a couple approached them. The man with thick mustache and glasses looked about forty and resembled James Potter, while his wife bore more resemblance to Bellatrix, only with chestnut rather than black hair. The Potter couple, whose "hereditary" curse — poor eyesight — was widely known. And no potions or charms gave permanent effect. Arthur suspected it was all about genes, which "classical" magic could no longer handle.
"May we sit?" Arthur looked around and saw that there were still plenty of empty sofas around, and understood they hadn't come just to sit.
"Of course, please sit," he moved over, nodding. Thereby violating the unwritten rules by which the younger should stand and greet their elders. However, Arthur had never been an aristocrat and wasn't going to fully follow their rules, except for basic politeness. Simply because it would look ridiculous and give his opponents grounds for mockery and manipulation. And the strong have the right to ignore any rules, and today he wanted to show this very strength.
"My name is Fleamont, and my wife is Euphemia," he introduced himself, not at all embarrassed by such audacity. "And you're Arthur Marlow, who recently applied for mastery? Honestly, as a member of the artificers' guild, I was extremely interested in your invention. I didn't think I'd be able to see you before the exam."
"Is that so?" Arthur replied with much greater interest. "Thank you. I'm Arthur Marlow, and this is my fiancée, Dorothea Black."
"Pleased to meet you," she said.
"Miss Black," Euphemia stood up, "wouldn't you like to take a walk? Let the men have their serious conversations," Mrs. Potter gently led Dorothea away to a group of women on the side.
"You have a very beautiful fiancée," Fleamont complimented, ordering a glass of firewhiskey from a house-elf.
"She's a veela — naturally she's beautiful. Didn't you know?"
"There were rumors," the head of the Potter family replied. "But I prefer not to believe rumors, but to verify them."
"Good quality. What's surprising is that your wife is no less beautiful," Marlow returned the compliment.
"Oh, you didn't see her in her youth. Daughters of the Black family are famous for their beauty and… temperament."
"But you didn't decide to talk about wives, right?" Arthur drank pure juice, brought with him. After his transformation, he lost the ability to feel intoxication, and alcoholic beverages lost all meaning for him, since only some of them were simply tasty and pleasant in flavor.
"Right. Honestly, as an artificer I'm very interested in your invention. I often need to calculate various enchantment schemes and runic bindings, and they…" he waved his hands.
"I understand you — quite tedious work. Calculating materials and their combinations, forms, conflicts and enhancements. You spend most of your time in calculations and experiments," Arthur nodded. "That's one of the reasons for creating my magicomputer."
"I wasn't wrong about you. So I'll be able to place an order with you after the presentation of your invention?"
"I see no obstacles to that. The artifact will cost ten thousand galleons," Marlow replied.
"Quite a high price," Potter shook his head.
"I'm not targeting the mass market — I have another idea for that — but Masters and heads of houses. Each artifact is created individually and by hand, not by apprentices. So you understand," Arthur spread his hands.
Though in reality everything was much simpler. First, Marlow didn't want his artifact to be perceived by serious mages as a toy, since a low price would create exactly that impression. Second, he didn't want to settle in Availon and create them by the thousands. Third, he needed to create the impression that these were expensive and very complex artifacts, and therefore there was simply no point in, for example, capturing Marlow and forcing him to reveal the secret.
And finally, the fact that Arthur himself could use the money. And ten thousand was the salary of a mid-level Ministry official for eight years or the cost of an expensive apartment in Diagon Alley, as well as… an expensive piece of jewelry. So the price was quite accessible to any Master.
"I understand. Well, I hope I won't have to cancel my order due to your premature death?" Potter smirked, hinting at the duel.
"You underestimate me. And our duel won't be to the death."
"Anything can happen," Fleamont replied, finishing his firewhiskey and throwing the glass into the air, which immediately disappeared. "It was pleasant to meet you, Mr. Marlow."
"And me too, Mr. Potter." After this, Mrs. Longbottom and Mr. Greengrass approached him with the same question. As Marlow understood, these were purely neutral or "light" families, as they were sometimes called. That is, they weren't caught in love for their neighbors, but they also didn't demand somehow oppressing Muggle-borns. They protected their interests and didn't particularly meddle in politics.
Lucius with his father Abraxas Malfoy and Narcissa approached last, which showed their status. They didn't approach Arthur, and he didn't bother them. He had no enmity with Malfoy personally or with his family — he simply didn't like his polished face, and he had fallen into his hands too conveniently.
To some extent, he even liked the new true appearance — the face was now not so pretty and feminine, but rather predatory, emphasized by elongated fangs.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Orion began his speech with a magically amplified voice, gathering everyone in the hall. Next to him stood Walburga, Bella, and Rodolphus Lestrange. "I'm glad that you all accepted our family's invitation. As you know, my niece, Bellatrix Black, is engaged to the worthy son of the Lestrange family, and I have the honor to announce that in two weeks a wedding will be celebrated — and all present here are invited!"
The hall began to applaud, receiving this news differently. Nothing substantial changed — everyone already knew that the long-delayed wedding had to happen sooner or later.
"But before we begin, I must inform you that our reception was chosen as the venue for a duel between the heir of the Malfoy house, Lucius, and Arthur Marlow," Orion clearly distinguished social statuses. "I think all who wish can become judges of the duel. As host, I will conduct it."
Black wasn't going to oppose the duel, since this way he killed several grindylows at once — he would find out what this Marlow and Malfoy himself were capable of, and also arrange entertainment that would be talked about for weeks to come.
The guests went to the garden, where a dueling platform and protected tribune for spectators were prepared. When everyone was seated, the duelists and their seconds took their places — the first opposite each other on the platform, and the second on both sides of it.
Lucius Malfoy's second was his classmate and vassal of his family — William Crabbe, while Arthur's was his fiancée. Not that this was forbidden, it was just supposed that duels could be quite dangerous, and the second should protect himself. However, despite the patriarchal nature of magical society in general, strong witches were respected and even feared. Everything as always — the strong establish their own rules, not submit to general ones.
"Excuse me," came a voice that Arthur hadn't heard for almost fourteen years and feared to hear again. Only now it was rougher and with hissing notes. "Am I not late?"
"Not at all, not at all, Mr. Gaunt. We're glad you visited our reception," people in the front row parted like the waters of the Red Sea before Moses to give place to a man with an aristocratically handsome face in a green suit.
But Arthur saw that under the illusion hid a pale bald face, no longer resembling a human. He himself was generally the same, Arthur ironically chuckled, so the appearance itself worried him little. What was interesting was that this madman continued to tear his black rotten soul, and whether anything human remained in him was the right question.
The tiny piece of soul that Arthur gave for the rebirth ritual made the world lose colors, and feelings — sharpness. Completely miniature. What did Gaunt lose? Was he capable of love, joy, or simple mercy, finally? How did he preserve his sanity? Mental magic could only partially compensate for the damage, since the mental body also suffers from creating horcruxes.
Suddenly an idea came to Arthur. Spectral glasses. Who would follow Gaunt if they saw his insides? And there was also the question of whether it wasn't his piece of soul that he had extracted from the tiara? He couldn't make a mistake, because what if it was a piece of some ancient archmage who now lay in a tomb and bothered no one? This was worth thinking about, but not now.
"Before the duel begins," Orion continued, "I must ask whether your grievances can be resolved peacefully, not with blood?"
"No, he struck my familiar," because that's actually how it was. If Dorothea had been an ordinary fake, that slap would have at least stunned her, or even killed her outright. And a familiar isn't an ordinary pet. Though some are ready to kill even for a cat. In general, formally I'm within my rights.
"No, only if he apologizes to me and pays compensation for the harm and insult inflicted," Malfoy proudly declared.
"Who talks about what, and Malfoys about money," Arthur smirked, causing chuckles from the stands.
"Since you don't want to resolve the matter peacefully, then let's begin the duel. Bow," here etiquette demanded formality if you didn't want to make your opponent a blood enemy. Even proud and angry Lucius bowed slightly. So Arthur responded in kind. "Begin!"
A schoolchildren's fight usually resembles shouting spells. Only at this moment on the platform fought the heir of the Malfoy house, who had been prepared long before entering Hogwarts and who underwent additional training with his father, an experienced duelist, so he mainly used nonverbal charms and their combinations.
Arthur, seeing completely harmless charms for himself, didn't show his saber, which he had wanted to use initially, but managed with one wand, at the end of which was a compressed to the limit "protego maxima" — using a steel barrier of flowing water, he deflected clusters of multicolored charms with the dexterity of a fencer, sending them back.
Supreme mastery that extremely humiliates the opponent, since he has to dodge and defend against his own attacks. Arthur, as if strolling, began approaching him.
"Mr. Malfoy, this is getting boring, are we going to fight?" Marlow pretended to yawn. "Maybe I should give you a head start?"
In reality, Arthur spent considerable concentration on accelerating consciousness and body to pull off such a trick. It's one thing to attack and defend, and another to calculate the opponent's attack and position the shield so that it reflects it back directly at him, not somewhere to the side.
Lucius became furious from these jabs and sent a wave of fire, which Arthur spun with his wand, gathered into a fireball and sent back, breaking through Malfoy's shield, causing another one to activate — an artifact one.
"Mr. Malfoy, we agreed to fight without protective artifacts."
"Really? I don't remember that," here Arthur remembered that the only witnesses were Slytherins and that he had been played. He lacked knowledge in various kinds of intrigues and deception. He was a simple guy — hit harder. Though here one could have guessed and simply stated conditions before the fight.
"Is that so? Think you'll sit it out behind your family artifact?" Marlow didn't think Lucius would wear some mass-produced item, so he still drew his saber. When Arthur trained with it, the saber seemed to suggest to him how to strike. This was precisely the property of a sentient artifact that had learned this from its former owner. After all, who better than a sword could know how to wield it?
The moment the saber rang thinly as it left its sheath, the charms around the stands went in waves like a disturbed lake. The sword tried to dispel even them.
"Goblin steel!" someone from the spectators exclaimed, and whispers began. Still, this was too expensive a material, and a sword from it could cost like half of Black manor, if not more. Everything also depended on the master and enchantments.
Arthur rushed from his place, dispersing with saber swings the whips, stones, spell rays, transfigured animals released by Lucius, and finally, finding himself next to him, piercing and dispersing the shield like a hot knife through butter — alas, it was created precisely for this. The blade stopped right at Malfoy's neck.
"Do you admit defeat?" Marlow asked.
"Blood hasn't been spilled yet," he replied.
"Well, if you want it so much," with a nonverbal cutting spell Arthur left a small wound on Lucius's cheek. Since if he struck with the saber, he would most likely die immediately from poison. The blade had lain in it for a hundred years and absorbed properties not only to dispel charms.
"I accept defeat and apologize for striking your familiar," perhaps the most important difference between a true aristocrat and a highway bandit was the ability to retreat in time. If he had continued to resist, he wouldn't have earned either approval or glory.
"I accept your apology," Arthur replied and extended his hand, which Malfoy, not without irritation, shook.
"Who is your battle magic teacher?" Lucius inquired, and Arthur thought about who all hadn't taught him. He tried himself, and Black taught him, and Hayato. But it was battle magic specifically that he was taught by…
"Richard von Meyer," Malfoy paled and thought that losing to a student of a battle magic master wasn't shame, but honor. Honor to last so long. Or was he allowed to last so long?
"That was a wonderful duel," Orion took the floor again. "And now let's continue the reception. If guests wish, in an hour there will be dinner in the great dining room."
While everyone dispersed, discussing moments of the past fight and the Marlow who had appeared from nowhere unknown to most, Gaunt attentively followed the departing victor with his gaze. It seemed to him that when he subdued fire, he didn't need a wand. In any case, the boy was quite interesting and strong, so it was worth learning more about him. Send Narcissa? He had almost no influence over her. But Bella would do — he was as sure of her as of himself.