To sum it up, the master of artifact making, Lerakh, was a universal amateur. In terms of knowledge, he was probably a master, and in terms of magical powers, an apprentice, and only his weakness in magic and the lack of a masterpiece, as well as, as I suspect, indifference to titles and unwillingness to pay a large ilkum, that is, a tax, prevented him from officially receiving this title. Being the son of a master, he was more interested in magic itself, and he didn't care what they called him, whether an archmage or an apprentice. Such a peculiar person. Due to a lack of strength, Lerakh got by as best he could, translating the magic of words into rituals. Yes, this is much more difficult, but this is what allowed him to create artifacts that not every archmage will create. Because not every archmage is an artifact maker. And the masterpiece, which never saw the light of day, judging by the fact that the records end after his death, turned out to be quite interesting and, of course, extremely difficult for me. No more no less, this is the creation of a living artifact from the human body, or more precisely from the magician himself. At the junction of biomagic, spirit magic, ritualistics, artifact making, potion making and a dozen more disciplines, the magician turns his body into a living weapon, a living staff and rod in one person, which itself absorbs hot ether from the surrounding space and transforms it into its mana, has enormous strength and power, and also differs in an increased number of spells put into memory with the same level of strength and development in comparison with an ordinary magician. This is exactly the way out that Lerakh found in solving the problem of the weakness of his soul and magical potential. However, it was not this that interested me - I still have a long way to go to reach such heights of mastery, but completely different things. Firstly, the ritual of cutting off, that is, any part of the body loses its connection with the magician and through it he can no longer be found or cursed. I hope this will help me. And secondly, in the process of achieving his masterpiece, Lerakh found a way to continue his research in case of death - a mark from a part of the magician's soul was placed on a pregnant woman, which merged with the embryo and created from it an ideal container and anchor for the soul. The ritual is extremely painful, because the pain of the soul is many times stronger than the pain of the body, and immoral, for obvious reasons, but I simply did not see any other way out. No, there were other options, for example, to go to another world or to summon a demon for my protection. But I did not have enough strength or knowledge for them, and summoning demons is like summoning an angry tiger to protect myself from a cat. Either that, or die and go to reincarnation without memories. That is, if they do not put me in a staff for torture and as a battery, of course.
Fortunately, I got through to my Nous, because I had motivation for seven. Although this was not enough, because there were only two weeks left until the end of the agreed term, and I could neither wave a wand, as they taught in the textbooks from Diagon Alley, nor put spells into my memory, nor cast spells of word magic. However, this was not necessary. It was enough that I could use mana - one of the most important advantages of rituals is that they can be filled gradually, and Lerakh built in a system of passive recharging from the background.
To begin with, I decided to prepare for the future ritual, which took a seventh of my fortune. The most offensive thing is that Gaunt deceived me even in money - I was almost arrested by goblins for slipping them transfigured pounds, and only my sincere bewilderment and the lack of a wand allowed me to prove that I was a victim of deception, not a criminal. Fortunately, I had already exchanged most of the pounds for real money, but it was still unpleasant, especially the insulting remarks towards me from short people. But I saw that the bills were different from real ones, but I did not attach any importance to this, because I did not know what the difference was, outwardly the bills were the same. In addition to a large amount of blood-replenishing potion, I also needed more specific ingredients, such as dead man's bones and "zither dust". For the first one I had to become a grave desecrator, because they weren't sold in Kosoy's regular stores, and there were easier ways to die than to go to the black market, which had to exist. And the second one cost me a sixth of my savings, it was a flower with an unpronounceable name in Sumerian - Outalamos; it grew only in places with a strong magical or, in Sumerian, ethereal background and was quite rare. Fortunately, it could still be officially bought. And then, having mixed the crushed bone with my blood and the juice of the flower, it was necessary to draw a complex geometric figure in the form of an octogram, the edges of which consisted of many runic Sumerian symbols. The empty spaces of the octogram were also filled with circles of symbols, and as a result, a figure four by four meters was obtained. Here I was glad of my experience as a restorer and my trained hand, thanks to which drawing the figure was difficult, but not impossible. The problem with the premises was solved in the same way as most problems in our world - with money. I rented a small warehouse in the port for a couple of weeks, and that's all I needed, if it doesn't work out - I won't need it anymore.
The main problem, as expected, was with the pregnant woman. It was necessary to have a period of less than two months, because otherwise the soul will already be born - and the emblem will simply dissolve in his aura. But that's not so bad, the girl herself also needs to be strong magically, otherwise she simply won't be able to bear a child strengthened by the emblem. Not to mention the fact that if I die, then she, and therefore I, may not survive the transfer. Choose a female mage? Yeah, very funny - to go bare-assed to a tank: even a first-year student could probably twist me now. And I have nothing to attract a sorceress with, I don't have the kind of money for a strong sorceress to give birth to a child for me. This is the problem with seeking help from magicians: they will tell me, "Thank you for the book, well done, here is the spell of oblivion as a reward." Or they will chop off my head right away, so as not to leave a trace.
The solution was found when I remembered about magical creatures. Did I mention that they are treated like cattle? In fact, it is even worse. Vampires are killed on the spot, werewolves and centaurs do not have the right to work, or rather, they seem to be allowed to, but in reality, no one hires them. Goblins, although they have won their place in the sun, are not seen outside the bank, which shows the true attitude towards them and the reason for the goblin uprisings. And the veelas... not only are they, like all the above, oppressed, but they have also become hostages of their beauty. Yes, they have natural charms of seduction, similar in effect to the spell of subordination, Imperius, mixed with an aphrodisiac and working on an area. However, anyone can come to the most shabby shop and buy an amulet of protection from these and similar charms. Otherwise, Veela would rule the world now, because their natural inclination to create fire without concentrators, turning into half-birds and half-women, plus considerable innate magical power, not to mention their charms - all this makes them stronger than most mages, and only their small number and the impossibility of reproducing themselves limit them. Although there are quite a few people who do not succumb to their charms, they are either strong in will and magic, or ... women, gays and, perhaps, impotent. However, some women still succumb to these charms, lesbians for example. So, poor Veela in England are practically forced to become prostitutes or concubines of rich and influential mages. For some time, it was even fashionable to have a Veela mistress. And those, in order not to die of hunger - we remember that they are not given work and are kept in reservations, and also in order not to finally die out, agree to such humiliation. It was to the Veela reservation that I went, not forgetting to buy a remarkable amulet, so as not to become a slave to the magical beauties. As they say, I feel sorry for them, but my own skin is more precious.
The Veela Coven was located in Wales, in a magical forest, fenced off both from the intrusion of ordinary people - the word "muggle" is offensive to me, and from the escape of the girls themselves, who, to boot, are wearing collars. And in the event of an attempt to escape, they are quickly found and brought back, without being shy about the means. On the other hand, any wizard can calmly come and choose a "girl" for the night or even for permanent "use". They do not talk about this much, but it is not hidden either. Officially, such a purchase is called "guardianship" of a dangerous magical creature, as if you were buying a dog in a pet store. For me, such blatant slavery is wild, but right now this is perhaps my only way out. It is enough to show my magic wand, which I calmly bought in Ollivander's. True, I had to "cleanse" it later with a purification ritual, from all sorts of nastiness. I don't know what it was, but considering that it didn't affect the functionality of the tool, most likely some government beacons or something like that.
"Good afternoon, I'm Ida, the head of the Veela coven. And you, mister..." I was greeted by a charming blonde with luxurious forms in a rather frivolous outfit, by the standards of magicians, of course: a red dress just above the knees, a black corset and a deep neckline in which you can drown. Her face was only slightly decorated with makeup to emphasize the natural beauty of the girl. We were on the first floor of a three-story wooden house in the Victorian style, more like a dormitory, and that's what it most likely was, combined with a brothel. The girls who passed by looked at me with interest. Some of them liked me and made eyes at me, others didn't pay attention, some were dressed the same or even more frivolously than the leader, and some, on the contrary, were rather modest and closed, but what united them was that they were all natural blondes, incredibly beautiful and similar to each other like sisters. Small, snub noses, blue or green almond-shaped eyes and plump, seductive lips.
- My name is Vladimir Pierce, - I kissed the air above the outstretched hand. This is how etiquette requires greeting ladies, and not kissing their hand with spit. Plus, who knows what Ida did with that hand? However, the eyes of those around me showed confusion; apparently, magicians usually behave much worse. - And I came to buy one of you.
- Really? - looking at me and her hand, she asked. - You understand that this will cost you three thousand Galleons, right? Do you have that amount? And forgive me, I would lower the price, but it is not we who set them, but the Ministry of Magic.
- Of course we do, - I smiled, trying not to show my displeasure. Because after selling the apartment and everything in it, plus Gaunt's money and my savings, I received only seven thousand gold roundels, which in fact are not made of gold at all, but of its enchanted alloy. Another thousand went on a flower for the ritual. It's a bit expensive, but I'm still buying a person... or not quite a person. Although my conscience tormented me for this, but the instinct for self-preservation sent it far and for a long time. Choosing between morality and my own life, I will choose the latter. Especially since if the girl fell into the hands of some sadist, it would be worse for her than if I bought her for a "one-time action". - Call everyone who wants to get, albeit relative, but freedom.
- What do you mean? - Ida was surprised.
- I need a girl only to conceive a child. You see, I have been struck by an illness that even St. Mungo's Hospital cannot cure, and I do not know how long I have left to live. - I said sadly and with a seemingly hidden heartbreak. This is also strange, it seems that the inquisitors drove out magicians, and they called one of the most famous healers of the magical world a saint. However, Lerakh explained it this way - all the shells of the soul are connected to each other, especially to the fifth and sixth - emotions and reason. And when a person tortures someone, emanations of these emotions get into his soul, influencing the entire soul, from mana to reason, body and emotions. This is what dark magicians do. There are also light ones who store positive emotions in themselves, and to be honest, both of these extremes are terrifying to the point of ugliness, because you may not notice how you become a complete maniac or a rabid altruist or a warrior of light. To avoid this, you need to be at least a master of mental magic, so that the mind prevails over emotions and you can notice the smallest changes in yourself and correct them. That is why magicians are so strange and it often seems that they do not have common sense - their emotions, as well as the emotions of others, directly affect their mana, and then the mana itself accumulates these emanations and strengthens such emotions. However, the most terrible thing for a magician is a lie. Because in this way he contradicts himself, his magic and essence. Therefore, even the darkest magicians tried to understate, to remain silent, but not to lie directly, because it corrodes the soul and fills it with rot. I saw a couple of such magicians in shabby robes and with overgrown, bandit-like faces, and in True Vision it was as if impurity was dripping from them, and their aura was eaten away by holes. Therefore, I did not lie about the illness, but simply did not finish that this illness is Gaunt, which is really unlikely to be dealt with at Mungo's, if he carries such books. No, one can assume that he accidentally got his hands on it, but judging by his behavior, he cannot be weak. He behaved too confidently and arrogantly. - And I would not want to leave this world without leaving anything behind.
There you go, now I don't look like a slave owner or a pervert, but like an honest, desperate person. And if they have the empathy they're supposed to have, they'll feel the same way. Because I'm truly desperate and ready for anything. The last month was like a race with death, I slept for three hours, translating the text or thinking up ways to get out of this mess. For the first time, I felt such helplessness and promised myself that if I survived, I would become so strong that I would never experience this feeling again.
"Here are everyone who agrees to your terms, Mr. Pierce," Ida pointed to about five dozen girls of different ages. Did she bring them all? Well, I'm not the one to complain, choice is good, especially when it's voluntary. I activated true vision, and I had to get used to the brightness again - such a number of strong magical creatures created a hefty glare, I had to wait until my eyes, watering from pain, got used to it. Looking at the girls who were tempting me with their gestures or poses, I looked not only at the strength of their aura, but also at its purity, the absence of rot or any flaws. Until I found a girl in a white cotton dress, her face covered by a veil, pushed into the back rows. A very pure and warm aura attracted and beckoned the gaze. After all, many here were prostitutes - and not all could avoid falling into darkness or rot, and such purity was striking like a gold bar in the dirt.
"Sir, I must warn you," Ida said to me, seeing who I was looking at, "that the girl you are looking at... has a defect."
"Really? Is it connected with the veil?" I suggested, although without much interest. "I am not choosing a permanent lover here, but my possible future mother. Somehow it sounded perverse in my thoughts, considering what happens before conception of children.
- Yes, that's right. Once a client chose her, but Ariel refused him, for which she paid with a disfigured face. Since I can't reduce the amount, I advise you to choose another.
- No, - I shook my head. - For me, appearance is not important, a person's soul is much more important, and I like it.
Well, yes, it is the soul that is more important to me, as well as the body, but the face? What about the face? A minor healing spell, translated into a ritual, and she will be as good as new. Therefore, after paying, I took the girl with me, bringing her to my rented apartment.
***
Ida was terribly jealous of Ariel, watching the man leave. At first, she thought that he was simply lying, trying to show himself noble and romantic, but in fact he was the same sadist and rapist as the other magicians. But he actually chose the ugliest of beauties. And her innate empathy told her that he was truly desperate and was not lying about valuing her soul. For the first time, Ida regretted that she could not leave with the client, leaving her girls to their fate. After all, she had always protected them and did not tell the mage that the one who had disfigured the girl, who was only fourteen at the time, had only left ashes. Even if the mages had driven the Veela into such a situation, no one would dare to mock them against their will! Even if death followed. After all, there is no person more terrible than one who has nothing to lose. And only the responsibility to their ancestors in continuing the lineage of their race prevents the predatory bird girls from showing their true nature and rebelling, trying to take more enemies with them.