*****
Two people walked along the corridor: an idol and a fan. One is the Hero of the Magical World, who by his mere existence "overcame" one of the most "dangerous" dark lords of the millennium. The second is an ordinary boy, born into an ordinary family. As soon as he heard stories about the "thunderstorm of the dark lords" for the first time, he realized that this was the image of the hero he should strive for. And it doesn't matter that this individual is quite alive and has his own shortcomings, blind faith in the ideal will smooth out all the corners and roughness.
A flash of bright light that burst from the young photographer's camera instantly illuminated the arches of the corridor of the ancient castle. It was so bright that even our "hero", out of surprise, closed his eyes in a vain attempt to save them from punishment.
Blinking, Harry looked with some hidden anger at the contented boy through the lenses of his glasses.
- Colin! If you take a picture of me without my permission one more time..." Hero hissed, ominously approaching the young paparazzi. "Then I will personally smash your Mordrev camera into rubbish." Understood?
"Ha-ha-ha, come on Harry," Creevey said cheerfully, squeezing the camera tighter in his hands. "I know that you won't do that," the boy jabbered, his eyes sparkling joyfully.
And yes, you heard right. Our hero is not against photographs; it turned out that quite a lot of people want to get a photo with him. Why does Potter need this? Well, you just have to look at one of the teachers and everything becomes.
"I warned you," the hero said, adjusting his glasses. — It would be better to do something useful, and not endlessly photographing my person. "I bet you still have a lot to do," Harry added importantly, in a vain attempt to get the annoying admirer away from him.
"Yes, I've already done everything, the only thing I'm behind is my potions homework," the boy told his idol, smiling broadly.
- So go do the task, and don't pester me.
Turning around on the spot, Potter headed into one of the branches of the corridor, before casting a slight haze on the poor kid ("How did I get it... if he weren't useful for my reputation...").
Gradually, moving further and further, Potter began to slow down his pace. Since you can't hear the little one's steps, it means he won't catch up with him. It's time to mind my own business, but...
"Hunting timesssssss."
An ominous hissing that the hero had heard before...
"Old Cat," flashed through the hero's head.
"The victim is nearby-ssss. I smell-sss."
The sound that had previously come from somewhere in front was now from behind and was gradually moving away.
Without thinking long ("How is it Gryffindor"), the guy set off after the unknown enemy. Although he (she) had already begun to guess who exactly it was...
"Kill-ssss." Kill! KILL! The owner needs ssssssssssssssssssnew blood."
"He's moving in Colin's direction," a guess instantly dawned on his (her) head. By sharply jerking the index finger on his left hand, Harry ensured that a drop of blood fell on the inconspicuous ring. - "Great, now all we have to do is wait."
"FOUND! DIE!!!" — The ominous triumph in the killer's voice did not leave even the slightest chance for hope (was it Nadezhda? Or, perhaps, another game for the public? But for whom?)
The frantic running began to approach its climax. A couple more turns and...
"Khizyain-SSS will be satisfied" -hissing behind made it clear-everything is over.
Two steps and the last turn is behind us.
The mask of horror on the pale face seemed to freeze forever. Hands with titanic strength squeezed the camera whose lens was cracked, although just a couple of minutes ago it was intact.
The salty statue of Gryffindor greeted the hero with only silence. The "light" of joy disappeared, as did life itself. Just absolute peace.
- Aaaah! — a cry coming from the side distracted the hero from contemplating the statue. Turning sharply, he only managed to notice the hem of the robe, and then hear the sound of hastily retreating steps.
Rushing in the same direction, Potter saw no one. Whoever it is, the rumor about another murder in which the Hero of the Magic World will be to blame will spread like wildfire.
"Mordred..."
A tired whisper broke the silence...
*****
The ritual circle shone. Two colors collided in a magical glow: red, like blood itself, and gray, like ash itself. These two opposites clashed in battle, trying to overpower each other.
Of course, in normal vision you won't see anything like this, only a small light emanating from the lines of the drawing (still lacking control). The struggle itself was visible only in magical vision.
Standing next to the drawing, in a special diagram that was connected to the main drawing, I once again tried to combine the incompatible. One type of mana came out of each of my hands: prana mixed with mana, as well as nekros mixed with the same mana.
What exactly am I trying to do? Repeat the "success" of mixing two opposites just like in my eyes, but this time only in energetic terms. After all, if I succeeded once (using it fruitfully in the future), why not repeat this success again? For what? Vision alone gives so many advantages (let's forget about the disadvantages for now) that I can't even wait to find out the effect of combining the fundamental principles...
Suddenly, the previously more or less stable structure began to behave unnaturally. At the point of contact between the two "elements," small explosions began to occur. Straining all my mental and magical powers, I tried to return the previous "calm" to the experiment.
Surprisingly, my efforts brought positive results. The two multi-colored streams stopped "exploding." Gradually getting closer to each other, they mixed more and more until...
*BANG!!!* With a deafening bang, an explosion of incredible power occurred. From its epicenter, even a wave of chaotic mana, visible to ordinary vision, rushed in all directions. If she comes into contact with anything, then...
As soon as she reached the boundaries of the magic circle, the wave came into contact with the bluish film of the protective bath. Flashing with a bright, yellowish light, the wall disappeared. However, the chaotic mana also disappeared.
"Phew," I sighed tiredly and dropped my slightly trembling hands. Passing such a stream of mana through them, and what's more, of the opposite nature, was not easy. Even now I feel a slight tingling in the magical channels, as well as in those parts of the aura with which I was pressing on all this energy.
Another failure. Even though I was tired, thoughts were racing through my head quite quickly.
This was already the fifty-third attempt to combine the incompatible, and who knows how many more similar attempts I will have to make. Although I cannot say that these experiments were in vain.
Learning how to mix nekros and regular mana to create death mana was fairly easy. I won't say that I got it right the first time, but somewhere around my twentieth time it all worked out for me. Where does this energy even come from? Strange as it may seem, but directly from living organisms. Ha, paradox? No.
How do cells live? In physical terms - due to nutrients. In energy terms - due to prana. And they produce it, only their own. And as we know, every intelligent person has a limit to the "ultimate reserve" of this energy.
But cells in the body die every second. And when they die, they release Nekros. The truth is there is so little of it that you want to cry. To increase the amount of Nekros (of course, not pure, but mixed with mana.) they arrange ritual murders and the like. It is quite possible that the stronger the necromancer, the more of his cells are produced by nekros. It's like stopping eating meat and becoming a committed vegan. Although this is only approximately.
So, of course, I didn't have enough of the nekros that my own body produces. So I had to look for workarounds.
As it turns out, the room of help is also a training ground for developing necromancy skills (like all other schools). True, to obtain "material" you have to pay from your own pocket.
All this happens in the following way. As I learned earlier, the founders entered into agreements with each of the guilds. Same thing with the Necromancer Guild. To communicate with this particular organization, Help Room creates a kind of separate room. It contains a list of what you can buy. (Chickens, rats, bulls, and so on, all the way up to humans...). It's true that buying something that is not allowed by your rank is impossible. The money left in the special box will disappear, and the "product" will not appear.
How will they determine whether I can buy this or that "thing"? The room itself decides, because I take exams in it. This is the system.
And for each such experiment I need at least one live chicken. Having killed, with my own hands, the poor bird (although who am I kidding?) in a special ritual circle, I end up with a small grayish shell, completely under my control. By mixing nekros with my mana and passing it through myself, I thereby gain control over this energy.
Interesting fact. It is much easier to obtain prana from the body (of someone else), but to use it is more difficult. With nekros it's the other way around—it's difficult to get, but easy to use.
Eh, now it's clear why many necromancers go crazy in their thirst for power. Prana and Nekros significantly enhance spells, I would say by an order of magnitude, if not two. But if using the first is problematic, then the second... And it's not difficult to find a way to obtain free energy. Something like this.
All these experiments are not only needed to satisfy my curiosity, but also for practical purposes. Each such ritual is a test for me. There are several advantages here.
The first benefit is increased control. Very important fact, right? Thanks to this, I am moving forward on this path by leaps and bounds. The truth saddens me is the fact that sooner or later, I will hit the ceiling in developing control using this method.
The second pole is the development of magical channels. Yes, compared to many magicians, I have an incredible system of magical channels. But there is no limit to perfection, right? Moreover, I use exactly the amount of energy that can pass through my channels, but a little more. And this is a lot. Several tens of times more than necessary. Moreover, I doubt that the archmage's system is less developed than mine. And if you look up to anyone, then only the best.
The third plus is the development of the aura. Yes, yes, I haven't forgotten about the idea of learning to control the aura. And I make my attempts to "stabilize" this entire mixture of energy during the experiment with the help of the aura. I have a couple of ideas about this...
Well, the fourth plus is the use of prana. The sword of Damocles still hangs over my head, and in order to delay the moment of the "end", and to gain more time to solve this problem, I spend this life-giving energy.
Okay, it's time to get ready. Today I still have to visit Neva. Unfortunately (or fortunately), Augusta insisted that the teacher ensure that her grandson made a full recovery, without any side effects. Where is the best place to do this? That's right, in the hospital wing. This poor guy has been sitting like he's in prison for three days now.
It literally took me about five minutes to get dressed and pack my things. Having once again looked around the room with an attentive gaze, I left it.
The journey to the Hospital Wing took another ten minutes. The truth is that I realized something was wrong already on the way. Almost knocking down the door, McGonagall, excited about something, flew out of the room. Really...?
Casting an attentive glance at me, she rushed off somewhere (and by that time I had already exited the visa regime). Looking after her, I entered the Hospital Wing and the first thing I came across was the teacher, who (what a surprise) at that moment looked exactly at me.
- Oh, Calder. You're just in time," it's unclear why that one was formed. - Come here.
Approaching the couch, next to which the teacher stood, I saw a statue named after Colin Creevy. His hands were placed in front of his face, as if they were holding something in front of him, and the boy's face was distorted with a grimace of fear.
- This...? — I tried to ask a question.
"We have a rather interesting case on the agenda," Poppy began, switching to a lecture tone. — A victim with an incorrectly applied curse.
- Wrong?
"Check it yourself," she smiled at me, inviting me to work with a gesture of her hand.
Well, this will be VERY interesting.