Three dazzlingly beautiful girls sat at the table in the living room. The youngest, with wheat-blonde hair and green eyes, had chosen the sunniest spot, sipping apple juice and squinting with delight as the warm rays bathed her. She wore a revealing top and denim shorts, exposing as much skin as possible to the sun, from which she drew extra energy.
Opposite her, in the shade, sat a fiery-eyed brunette. She drank strong coffee, black and unsweetened, savoring the bitterness of the hot drink. Her black dress, tightly laced with a corset, looked stifling, but thanks to charms, she felt no heat.
Between them sat a platinum blonde with slightly bulging blue eyes — the line of light and shadow split her right down the middle, but she didn't seem to mind. She sipped a milkshake made from whipped unicorn cream, looking lovely in a simple dress that, in truth, was woven from acromantula silk.
All three wore diadems: Dorothea had Ravenclaw's original, while the other two wore modified replicas — gold with emeralds for Bella, platinum with rubies for Pandora. Marlow never skimped on his students; if they needed something, he provided the ingredients, the blueprints, and made them do the work themselves. That way, the knowledge stuck, and the artifact meant more.
"Dora," Bella asked slyly, "have you had 'that' with your master?"
"What 'that'?" Pandora asked, genuinely curious. "Searching for Wrackspurts under the moon?"
Bella nearly choked with laughter. Even she couldn't keep a straight face around these two. Pandora was innocent, but Dorothea...
"Oh yes, we mated. Last night too. He took me…" Dorothea replied, utterly unashamed. The familiar saw nothing shameful in sex and didn't understand dirty jokes. "…oh, how he took me, in every way…"
"Wait, stop!" When the conversation turned to aerial sex, even Bella — who'd had her share of unpleasant experiences — had to cut her off. Just then, Arthur emerged from the training hall, looking tired and battered, clad in armor that was somehow both Roman and Japanese in style, his wings now metallic gray and gleaming suspiciously in the sunlight.
"Hello, everyone," he greeted. For him, months had passed again, while here not even a day had gone by. "What are you chatting about?"
"What's anal?" Pandora asked with childlike directness. Only Bella blushed.
"I see… Ask Xeno later, he'll tell you — and maybe even show you," Marlow dodged smoothly. In any unclear situation, blame Xeno. He's the sort who can talk his way out of anything with enough philosophical rambling. "Maybe I should put him up against Gaunt?" Arthur mused. No, that would be too cruel. "Anyway, I have a better idea — want to train with me? I need to test the new armor and wings."
"What about the doppelgangers?" Bella asked.
"They come out with the old wings. Artifacts aren't copied by doppelganger magic. And anyway, why am I arguing with you? Finish your drinks and follow me to the savanna!"
The savanna was a vast, arid expanse where you didn't have to worry about killing plants or animals during training. For safety, Arthur launched firework charms — loud, but harmless. On the field, the three girls lined up with wands drawn, facing the winged young man.
"Attack!" Arthur shouted, and a barrage of spells flew at him. Bella favored curses and energy charms. Pandora was unpredictable — a tickling charm one moment, Bombarda the next, or earth transfiguration followed by a flash of light. Dorothea, transformed into a nymph, attacked mostly with mental magic and plants, using her strengths to the fullest. She could have used fire, but that would just give Marlow free mana.
Arthur dodged a glob of sticky plant goo from Dorothea, shielded himself with a wing from Bella's barrage, and threw up a nonverbal Protego. He took off, narrowly avoiding Pandora's hands bursting from the ground. Energy shield, steel spirit armor — he was still on the defensive, using his wings as magical conductors. Sometimes, he'd brace himself and take spells on his wings, like Pandora's explosive charms. The armor and wings performed perfectly; even if they were scattered, they reassembled thanks to Portkey charms.
"So what did you gather us for? Just to show off?" Bella called out.
"So you'd understand my abilities — and what you can count on," Arthur replied. As he spoke, a binding spell from Pandora shot at his back. Without turning, he conjured a mirror shield and sent it back, but to her credit, she deflected her own spell. "Already plotting together, I see. But you forgot who taught you…"
At that moment, the girls finished their trap: vines burst from the ground, binding Marlow. But the feathers on his wings weren't just for defense. They shot out, slicing the vines to ribbons in an instant, then ignited, turning the remains to ash.
"Well done. That's why I always say: chatting on the battlefield is death," Arthur smirked, not at all offended by their trick.
"But it still didn't work," Dorothea said, disappointed.
"It didn't. And that's exactly why I keep telling you — you can never stop studying magic. What you struggle to achieve, for someone else is a long-passed stage." Marlow remembered training with Richard von Mayer and shuddered. For all his achievements, he'd been helpless against him. "Alright, that's enough. Now, time to test the full speed of my wings."
Before the girls' eyes, Marlow flapped his wings and shot into the sky like an arrow, switching from vertical to horizontal flight. He could have gone even faster — but the wings might have torn off, even with all the strengthening. There was no need to flap further, so he folded them like a diving bird and accelerated.
The air thickened, scraping and heating his skin, until — with a pop — he broke the sound barrier. Arthur surrounded himself with a spirit shield, and air resistance vanished, though he had to cast a head bubble to breathe. He didn't know what speed he reached, but it didn't matter.
For the first time, he truly enjoyed flying. With wings, you had to flap and focus; a broom was awkward, a flying carpet easy to fall from, and an airplane never gave the same sense of freedom. On a wave of emotion, he slowed down, caught up with a squealing Dorothea, and flew with her around his domain.
"Me too, give me a ride!" Pandora ran up as soon as he landed with his familiar. He had to give her a ride as well.
"You too?" Arthur asked Bella with a sly grin.
"No thanks, I'll manage," she replied, though inside she longed for a ride… But she was afraid of heights. So afraid, in fact, that one of the first nonverbal charms she'd learned was "Wings of Darkness," which allowed limited flight — just in case she ever needed to glide down safely.
"Don't want to — I won't force you," Marlow laughed. "Florentina, will you take us back?"
"Of course, master," the elf replied joyfully. House-elf teleportation was surprisingly gentle and pleasant — one moment, and you were home, with no dizziness or disorientation. Arthur still studied this technique, hoping to improve his own blink, but so far without success. Natural magic had no construction principles — the world simply did what the user wanted. In that sense, house-elves were truly frightening. If there were more of them, and if they generated their own mana, they could conquer the world.
***
After successful tests and the end of lessons, I went to recruit my future vassals. The first was Hagrid. He lived in a small, for a half-giant, stone hut with two peaked extensions. I knocked, knowing he was inside. Heavy footsteps sounded, and a bearded man three and a half meters tall, with a beer belly, opened the door.
He wore a ferret fur coat that, in the Muggle world, would cost as much as a car. Behind Hagrid, I saw strings of herbs — magical and mundane — hung to dry. Next to them, bunches of unicorn hair, centaur hair, and other magical creatures' hair. Even a rough estimate said this was a fortune.
Take a magic wand, for example. It costs about seven to twelve galleons, of which the master's work is two or three. The wood is almost free — a few sickles. Potions for wands are cheap and last a long time. Most of the price is the core, which needs a couple dozen hairs. Besides, herbs and hair are used in potions, so Hagrid had a fortune hanging here, yet lived like a pauper.
"Good day, Mr. Hagrid," I greeted him. "I'm Pandora's teacher, Arthur Marlow."
"Ah… You're the new one, right?" He scratched his head, trying to remember me. Or maybe just catching fleas. Though, no, he didn't seem to smell, so that was probably a stereotype.
"Yes, I transferred from Beauxbatons. Did you know our headmistress is a half-giant?"
"Well I'll be! Come in, why are you standing on the threshold?" Hagrid led me inside and, like a good host, poured herbal tea — the kind any potioneer would kill for — and brought out cakes I could only bite through with magical enhancement. But for a half-giant, ordinary cakes must seem too soft.
"Thank you for the tea," I said sincerely — the drink was beyond praise. "I came to offer you a job."
"Well, I work as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore, gave me work after… Ah, never mind." Yes, I'd read about him in old newspapers. That led me to Gaunt's true name — Tom Riddle. It was this model student and prefect who testified in the case accusing Hagrid of bringing an acromantula to school, which killed Moaning Myrtle — whom I'd recently disembodied.
But the case was full of holes — the girl was killed instantly and without a mark, as if by Avada… or a basilisk's gaze. For lack of evidence, and thanks to the current headmaster, then Professor Dumbledore, Rubeus was released. But the ban on owning a wand was never lifted.
Since then, Hagrid had lived here, growing pumpkins, watching the forest, and leading first-years on their first day at the castle. "So I can't. But thanks for the offer."
"Hagrid, what if I told you your work would be raising beasts? Dragons, basilisks, unicorns, thestrals, and more. And no restrictions!" At this, the half-giant's dim eyes lit up. Recently, after finding some titan blood at Hayato's, I'd wondered if giants were their descendants. If so, Rubeus's destiny was to care for animals.
I continued, like a serpent tempter: "And I have treatises on the ancient art of animagic, allowing you to communicate with animals."
"Tom told me that too, then tricked me," Hagrid waved a hand. "Well, if you show me the little animals, I'll think about it."
"No problem. But, Rubeus, can you swear a magical oath not to tell anyone what you see? The place is dear to me, and I'm afraid evil people would harm me and the animals if they found out."
"Even Dumbledore?" he asked.
"Even him. But I can swear I'm telling the truth," — if you ask for oaths, be ready to give them yourself. I always try to make oaths not too burdensome or one-sided, so people — or not-quite-people — don't want to break them.
"Alright, I'm mighty curious!" The half-giant slammed the heavy oak table so hard it jumped. I had the contract ready, and led Hagrid to the forest part of Availon, where everything was blooming and fragrant, with animals everywhere.
"No poachers here, no people or wizards, just pure nature," I told him, watching the half-giant approach a unicorn and gently stroke it. It neighed joyfully and offered its neck. An amazing talent for communicating with beasts, and no one had ever developed it. I extended my hand, noticing how the unicorn shied away from me like the plague. Well, yes, it sensed my true form. "Take my hand, I'll show you something else."
We moved to the egg storage. Here, in stasis, were one hundred thirty-four eggs: I'd spoiled two, and another was used in Pandora's familiar ritual.
"All dragons?" Hagrid asked reverently, trying to stroke one but meeting a protective field.
"Not just dragons — five basilisks, and several potentially intelligent acromantulas," — the latter turned out to be descendants of arachne, half-human, half-spider beings.
"I feel one of them calling me," Hagrid said, tears in his eyes.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I always dreamed of having a dragon, and now it's calling me," he turned to me. "You'll give it to me, won't you?"
"That's the problem, Rubeus. No one will let you have a dragon, even as a familiar. They'll take it to a reserve, and when it grows up, they'll slaughter it for ingredients," — maybe I was laying it on thick, but it was the truth. "But here, in this world, you can have as many dragons as you want. You'll be the educator of a new race."
"I owe the headmaster," he said, wiping his eyes.
"You've paid your debt. How long have you worked for him? Thirty years? Your debt is long since paid. Time to live for yourself."
"You think so? Maybe you're right," he muttered. "I need to think."
"Take all the time you need," — but I knew that once he'd heard the familiar's call, he was mine. Or rather, not mine — he wouldn't be loyal to me, but to the animals. Dorothea tried to learn Sumerian animagic, but she was more about plants. You can't know everything. And animals generally avoided me unless I used my veela aura.
After returning Hagrid home, my next stop was the English veela coven.
***
Ida was no longer young, but she still did her best to protect her girls, making sure they ended up in good hands. After the last rebellion, when ten of her friends died, no one thought about freedom anymore. There were more wizards, wizards were stronger, and veela were forbidden wands. Worse, they wore bracelets that blocked their aura.
Ironically, the bracelet — invented in France to keep young veela from provoking others with uncontrolled aura — was used in England to imprison them. Now, two aurors always stood guard at the coven's exit, eager to abuse their power and take one of the girls. Ida could only watch helplessly, gritting her teeth. She couldn't even offer herself in exchange anymore — she was too old.
The bell rang — another client.
"I'm Ida, head of the veela coven. And you, Mr…" Ida looked the visitor over with a practiced eye. Expensive but not flashy robes, the same boots, a hoop with a gemstone, and an incredible beauty for a man. At first, she thought it was young Malfoy come to have fun — Abraxas had often visited her before he married. But no, the features were different, and the hair was light yellow, not platinum.
"Arthur Marlow," Arthur smirked, feeling déjà vu.
"Familiar name. Have we met?" Ida tried to remember. She didn't often sell the ugliest girl.
"Ariel — my father bought her and continued his line, as he wished," — now Ida remembered. "And the bracelet on your wrist is mine and her handiwork. I'm sorry it's used as a collar."
"It's not your fault. We veela respect you for at least trying to help us. So, how can I help you? Any girl would be glad to lie with you," — this time, sincerely, not pretending. Sleeping with a beautiful, polite young man who'd done much for veela was nothing like being with perverted old men.
"I'd like to free the veela. How many are there?" Marlow asked lazily.
"Fifty-four… But how? Are you ready to spend that much money?" Ida was surprised and delighted.
"I have money. But I don't want to leave it to the Ministry, which deals in violence and selling veela. The guards are stunned, and when they wake, they'll think Voldemort attacked. We have about half an hour before you decide," Arthur told her.
"But the collar…" — before she finished, it fell from her neck.
"You just need to destroy the node, and all the collars are freed. Have you never wondered why your binding is to the house?" — the doppelgangers had done well, finding the artifact in the attic.
"It was that simple?"
"The simpler, the more reliable. And the strongest leash is the one we put on ourselves. So, what's your decision? Time is short," — Ida nodded and ran to gather the girls. She managed in ten minutes — impressive, considering it was early morning and the girls were sleeping off a wild night.
"Mr. Marlow has decided to help us escape," Ida told everyone. "Now we must decide: do we flee together, or all stay? You've noticed the collars are off, and the wizards won't forgive us."
"I've had it with these wizards," one girl said, lighting a fireball in her hand and beginning to transform into a harpy. "Let them come near me, I'll fry their dicks and balls!"
"Why should we listen to some man? He's just like them, wants to screw us all!" another shouted.
"Enough!" Arthur said quietly, but everyone heard. Then, a veela aura pressed down on them all — as if they were children before a matriarch. Marlow drew their fire to himself and spread huge gray wings behind his back. Arguing now was like death; he needed shock therapy. "I'm not just some man, but one of you. I offer you freedom — and the chance to take revenge on the pureblood bastards, if you still want it."
"A male veela," Ida whispered in disbelief. "I've only heard of them in my grandmother's legends."
"What's a male veela?" asked a small girl, clutching a teddy bear.
"Legends say that before our exodus to this world, we had men, but something happened, and they became rarer and rarer, until they died out. That's why we came here — to continue the race," — Arthur took note, but didn't stop acting, opening a passage to Availon.
"So, what have you decided?" Arthur asked.
"What about our things?" one veela asked.
"Take the most valuable now — there's not enough time for the rest." Another ten minutes went to helping the girls gather and shrink their things, and then the stunned veela entered the new world one by one. The last grabbed him by the chest.
"If you deceive us, I swear, I'll gouge out your eyes and burn you to ashes!"
"Your right," he said, removing her clawed hands. "But I'm not going to deceive."
After everyone left, Arthur erased all traces of his presence, threw the Knights of Walpurgis mark into the sky as an illusion, and summoned hellfire, which devoured the house completely. Now, even Merlin himself wouldn't figure out what had been here.
***
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Three dazzlingly beautiful girls sat at the table in the living room. The youngest, with wheat-blonde hair and green eyes, had chosen the sunniest spot, sipping apple juice and squinting with delight as the warm rays bathed her. She wore a revealing top and denim shorts, exposing as much skin as possible to the sun, from which she drew extra energy.
Opposite her, in the shade, sat a fiery-eyed brunette. She drank strong coffee, black and unsweetened, savoring the bitterness of the hot drink. Her black dress, tightly laced with a corset, looked stifling, but thanks to charms, she felt no heat.
Between them sat a platinum blonde with slightly bulging blue eyes — the line of light and shadow split her right down the middle, but she didn't seem to mind. She sipped a milkshake made from whipped unicorn cream, looking lovely in a simple dress that, in truth, was woven from acromantula silk.
All three wore diadems: Dorothea had Ravenclaw's original, while the other two wore modified replicas — gold with emeralds for Bella, platinum with rubies for Pandora. Marlow never skimped on his students; if they needed something, he provided the ingredients, the blueprints, and made them do the work themselves. That way, the knowledge stuck, and the artifact meant more.
"Dora," Bella asked slyly, "have you had 'that' with your master?"
"What 'that'?" Pandora asked, genuinely curious. "Searching for Wrackspurts under the moon?"
Bella nearly choked with laughter. Even she couldn't keep a straight face around these two. Pandora was innocent, but Dorothea...
"Oh yes, we mated. Last night too. He took me…" Dorothea replied, utterly unashamed. The familiar saw nothing shameful in sex and didn't understand dirty jokes. "…oh, how he took me, in every way…"
"Wait, stop!" When the conversation turned to aerial sex, even Bella — who'd had her share of unpleasant experiences — had to cut her off. Just then, Arthur emerged from the training hall, looking tired and battered, clad in armor that was somehow both Roman and Japanese in style, his wings now metallic gray and gleaming suspiciously in the sunlight.
"Hello, everyone," he greeted. For him, months had passed again, while here not even a day had gone by. "What are you chatting about?"
"What's anal?" Pandora asked with childlike directness. Only Bella blushed.
"I see… Ask Xeno later, he'll tell you — and maybe even show you," Marlow dodged smoothly. In any unclear situation, blame Xeno. He's the sort who can talk his way out of anything with enough philosophical rambling. "Maybe I should put him up against Gaunt?" Arthur mused. No, that would be too cruel. "Anyway, I have a better idea — want to train with me? I need to test the new armor and wings."
"What about the doppelgangers?" Bella asked.
"They come out with the old wings. Artifacts aren't copied by doppelganger magic. And anyway, why am I arguing with you? Finish your drinks and follow me to the savanna!"
The savanna was a vast, arid expanse where you didn't have to worry about killing plants or animals during training. For safety, Arthur launched firework charms — loud, but harmless. On the field, the three girls lined up with wands drawn, facing the winged young man.
"Attack!" Arthur shouted, and a barrage of spells flew at him. Bella favored curses and energy charms. Pandora was unpredictable — a tickling charm one moment, Bombarda the next, or earth transfiguration followed by a flash of light. Dorothea, transformed into a nymph, attacked mostly with mental magic and plants, using her strengths to the fullest. She could have used fire, but that would just give Marlow free mana.
Arthur dodged a glob of sticky plant goo from Dorothea, shielded himself with a wing from Bella's barrage, and threw up a nonverbal Protego. He took off, narrowly avoiding Pandora's hands bursting from the ground. Energy shield, steel spirit armor — he was still on the defensive, using his wings as magical conductors. Sometimes, he'd brace himself and take spells on his wings, like Pandora's explosive charms. The armor and wings performed perfectly; even if they were scattered, they reassembled thanks to Portkey charms.
"So what did you gather us for? Just to show off?" Bella called out.
"So you'd understand my abilities — and what you can count on," Arthur replied. As he spoke, a binding spell from Pandora shot at his back. Without turning, he conjured a mirror shield and sent it back, but to her credit, she deflected her own spell. "Already plotting together, I see. But you forgot who taught you…"
At that moment, the girls finished their trap: vines burst from the ground, binding Marlow. But the feathers on his wings weren't just for defense. They shot out, slicing the vines to ribbons in an instant, then ignited, turning the remains to ash.
"Well done. That's why I always say: chatting on the battlefield is death," Arthur smirked, not at all offended by their trick.
"But it still didn't work," Dorothea said, disappointed.
"It didn't. And that's exactly why I keep telling you — you can never stop studying magic. What you struggle to achieve, for someone else is a long-passed stage." Marlow remembered training with Richard von Mayer and shuddered. For all his achievements, he'd been helpless against him. "Alright, that's enough. Now, time to test the full speed of my wings."
Before the girls' eyes, Marlow flapped his wings and shot into the sky like an arrow, switching from vertical to horizontal flight. He could have gone even faster — but the wings might have torn off, even with all the strengthening. There was no need to flap further, so he folded them like a diving bird and accelerated.
The air thickened, scraping and heating his skin, until — with a pop — he broke the sound barrier. Arthur surrounded himself with a spirit shield, and air resistance vanished, though he had to cast a head bubble to breathe. He didn't know what speed he reached, but it didn't matter.
For the first time, he truly enjoyed flying. With wings, you had to flap and focus; a broom was awkward, a flying carpet easy to fall from, and an airplane never gave the same sense of freedom. On a wave of emotion, he slowed down, caught up with a squealing Dorothea, and flew with her around his domain.
"Me too, give me a ride!" Pandora ran up as soon as he landed with his familiar. He had to give her a ride as well.
"You too?" Arthur asked Bella with a sly grin.
"No thanks, I'll manage," she replied, though inside she longed for a ride… But she was afraid of heights. So afraid, in fact, that one of the first nonverbal charms she'd learned was "Wings of Darkness," which allowed limited flight — just in case she ever needed to glide down safely.
"Don't want to — I won't force you," Marlow laughed. "Florentina, will you take us back?"
"Of course, master," the elf replied joyfully. House-elf teleportation was surprisingly gentle and pleasant — one moment, and you were home, with no dizziness or disorientation. Arthur still studied this technique, hoping to improve his own blink, but so far without success. Natural magic had no construction principles — the world simply did what the user wanted. In that sense, house-elves were truly frightening. If there were more of them, and if they generated their own mana, they could conquer the world.
***
After successful tests and the end of lessons, I went to recruit my future vassals. The first was Hagrid. He lived in a small, for a half-giant, stone hut with two peaked extensions. I knocked, knowing he was inside. Heavy footsteps sounded, and a bearded man three and a half meters tall, with a beer belly, opened the door.
He wore a ferret fur coat that, in the Muggle world, would cost as much as a car. Behind Hagrid, I saw strings of herbs — magical and mundane — hung to dry. Next to them, bunches of unicorn hair, centaur hair, and other magical creatures' hair. Even a rough estimate said this was a fortune.
Take a magic wand, for example. It costs about seven to twelve galleons, of which the master's work is two or three. The wood is almost free — a few sickles. Potions for wands are cheap and last a long time. Most of the price is the core, which needs a couple dozen hairs. Besides, herbs and hair are used in potions, so Hagrid had a fortune hanging here, yet lived like a pauper.
"Good day, Mr. Hagrid," I greeted him. "I'm Pandora's teacher, Arthur Marlow."
"Ah… You're the new one, right?" He scratched his head, trying to remember me. Or maybe just catching fleas. Though, no, he didn't seem to smell, so that was probably a stereotype.
"Yes, I transferred from Beauxbatons. Did you know our headmistress is a half-giant?"
"Well I'll be! Come in, why are you standing on the threshold?" Hagrid led me inside and, like a good host, poured herbal tea — the kind any potioneer would kill for — and brought out cakes I could only bite through with magical enhancement. But for a half-giant, ordinary cakes must seem too soft.
"Thank you for the tea," I said sincerely — the drink was beyond praise. "I came to offer you a job."
"Well, I work as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore, gave me work after… Ah, never mind." Yes, I'd read about him in old newspapers. That led me to Gaunt's true name — Tom Riddle. It was this model student and prefect who testified in the case accusing Hagrid of bringing an acromantula to school, which killed Moaning Myrtle — whom I'd recently disembodied.
But the case was full of holes — the girl was killed instantly and without a mark, as if by Avada… or a basilisk's gaze. For lack of evidence, and thanks to the current headmaster, then Professor Dumbledore, Rubeus was released. But the ban on owning a wand was never lifted.
Since then, Hagrid had lived here, growing pumpkins, watching the forest, and leading first-years on their first day at the castle. "So I can't. But thanks for the offer."
"Hagrid, what if I told you your work would be raising beasts? Dragons, basilisks, unicorns, thestrals, and more. And no restrictions!" At this, the half-giant's dim eyes lit up. Recently, after finding some titan blood at Hayato's, I'd wondered if giants were their descendants. If so, Rubeus's destiny was to care for animals.
I continued, like a serpent tempter: "And I have treatises on the ancient art of animagic, allowing you to communicate with animals."
"Tom told me that too, then tricked me," Hagrid waved a hand. "Well, if you show me the little animals, I'll think about it."
"No problem. But, Rubeus, can you swear a magical oath not to tell anyone what you see? The place is dear to me, and I'm afraid evil people would harm me and the animals if they found out."
"Even Dumbledore?" he asked.
"Even him. But I can swear I'm telling the truth," — if you ask for oaths, be ready to give them yourself. I always try to make oaths not too burdensome or one-sided, so people — or not-quite-people — don't want to break them.
"Alright, I'm mighty curious!" The half-giant slammed the heavy oak table so hard it jumped. I had the contract ready, and led Hagrid to the forest part of Availon, where everything was blooming and fragrant, with animals everywhere.
"No poachers here, no people or wizards, just pure nature," I told him, watching the half-giant approach a unicorn and gently stroke it. It neighed joyfully and offered its neck. An amazing talent for communicating with beasts, and no one had ever developed it. I extended my hand, noticing how the unicorn shied away from me like the plague. Well, yes, it sensed my true form. "Take my hand, I'll show you something else."
We moved to the egg storage. Here, in stasis, were one hundred thirty-four eggs: I'd spoiled two, and another was used in Pandora's familiar ritual.
"All dragons?" Hagrid asked reverently, trying to stroke one but meeting a protective field.
"Not just dragons — five basilisks, and several potentially intelligent acromantulas," — the latter turned out to be descendants of arachne, half-human, half-spider beings.
"I feel one of them calling me," Hagrid said, tears in his eyes.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I always dreamed of having a dragon, and now it's calling me," he turned to me. "You'll give it to me, won't you?"
"That's the problem, Rubeus. No one will let you have a dragon, even as a familiar. They'll take it to a reserve, and when it grows up, they'll slaughter it for ingredients," — maybe I was laying it on thick, but it was the truth. "But here, in this world, you can have as many dragons as you want. You'll be the educator of a new race."
"I owe the headmaster," he said, wiping his eyes.
"You've paid your debt. How long have you worked for him? Thirty years? Your debt is long since paid. Time to live for yourself."
"You think so? Maybe you're right," he muttered. "I need to think."
"Take all the time you need," — but I knew that once he'd heard the familiar's call, he was mine. Or rather, not mine — he wouldn't be loyal to me, but to the animals. Dorothea tried to learn Sumerian animagic, but she was more about plants. You can't know everything. And animals generally avoided me unless I used my veela aura.
After returning Hagrid home, my next stop was the English veela coven.
***
Ida was no longer young, but she still did her best to protect her girls, making sure they ended up in good hands. After the last rebellion, when ten of her friends died, no one thought about freedom anymore. There were more wizards, wizards were stronger, and veela were forbidden wands. Worse, they wore bracelets that blocked their aura.
Ironically, the bracelet — invented in France to keep young veela from provoking others with uncontrolled aura — was used in England to imprison them. Now, two aurors always stood guard at the coven's exit, eager to abuse their power and take one of the girls. Ida could only watch helplessly, gritting her teeth. She couldn't even offer herself in exchange anymore — she was too old.
The bell rang — another client.
"I'm Ida, head of the veela coven. And you, Mr…" Ida looked the visitor over with a practiced eye. Expensive but not flashy robes, the same boots, a hoop with a gemstone, and an incredible beauty for a man. At first, she thought it was young Malfoy come to have fun — Abraxas had often visited her before he married. But no, the features were different, and the hair was light yellow, not platinum.
"Arthur Marlow," Arthur smirked, feeling déjà vu.
"Familiar name. Have we met?" Ida tried to remember. She didn't often sell the ugliest girl.
"Ariel — my father bought her and continued his line, as he wished," — now Ida remembered. "And the bracelet on your wrist is mine and her handiwork. I'm sorry it's used as a collar."
"It's not your fault. We veela respect you for at least trying to help us. So, how can I help you? Any girl would be glad to lie with you," — this time, sincerely, not pretending. Sleeping with a beautiful, polite young man who'd done much for veela was nothing like being with perverted old men.
"I'd like to free the veela. How many are there?" Marlow asked lazily.
"Fifty-four… But how? Are you ready to spend that much money?" Ida was surprised and delighted.
"I have money. But I don't want to leave it to the Ministry, which deals in violence and selling veela. The guards are stunned, and when they wake, they'll think Voldemort attacked. We have about half an hour before you decide," Arthur told her.
"But the collar…" — before she finished, it fell from her neck.
"You just need to destroy the node, and all the collars are freed. Have you never wondered why your binding is to the house?" — the doppelgangers had done well, finding the artifact in the attic.
"It was that simple?"
"The simpler, the more reliable. And the strongest leash is the one we put on ourselves. So, what's your decision? Time is short," — Ida nodded and ran to gather the girls. She managed in ten minutes — impressive, considering it was early morning and the girls were sleeping off a wild night.
"Mr. Marlow has decided to help us escape," Ida told everyone. "Now we must decide: do we flee together, or all stay? You've noticed the collars are off, and the wizards won't forgive us."
"I've had it with these wizards," one girl said, lighting a fireball in her hand and beginning to transform into a harpy. "Let them come near me, I'll fry their dicks and balls!"
"Why should we listen to some man? He's just like them, wants to screw us all!" another shouted.
"Enough!" Arthur said quietly, but everyone heard. Then, a veela aura pressed down on them all — as if they were children before a matriarch. Marlow drew their fire to himself and spread huge gray wings behind his back. Arguing now was like death; he needed shock therapy. "I'm not just some man, but one of you. I offer you freedom — and the chance to take revenge on the pureblood bastards, if you still want it."
"A male veela," Ida whispered in disbelief. "I've only heard of them in my grandmother's legends."
"What's a male veela?" asked a small girl, clutching a teddy bear.
"Legends say that before our exodus to this world, we had men, but something happened, and they became rarer and rarer, until they died out. That's why we came here — to continue the race," — Arthur took note, but didn't stop acting, opening a passage to Availon.
"So, what have you decided?" Arthur asked.
"What about our things?" one veela asked.
"Take the most valuable now — there's not enough time for the rest." Another ten minutes went to helping the girls gather and shrink their things, and then the stunned veela entered the new world one by one. The last grabbed him by the chest.
"If you deceive us, I swear, I'll gouge out your eyes and burn you to ashes!"
"Your right," he said, removing her clawed hands. "But I'm not going to deceive."
After everyone left, Arthur erased all traces of his presence, threw the Knights of Walpurgis mark into the sky as an illusion, and summoned hellfire, which devoured the house completely. Now, even Merlin himself wouldn't figure out what had been here.
***
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