Sleep was simply out of the question.
Night. Silence. Not even the sound of the other lads sleeping and dreaming whatever they dreamed reached me — thank the soundproofing of our private alcoves. Only through the slightly open window came the quiet sounds of nature: a light wind, the rustle of grass. A tranquil May night, and yet sleep refused to come.
Sitting up in bed, I decided to let my thoughts run rather than chase them away. Simple thoughts — an idea for a protective artefact. The thing is, far too much attention has been paid lately to the Dark Lord and all the business surrounding him. What had become the nail in the programme of my thoughts was werewolf packs. Genuinely dangerous creatures, especially in partial transformation. Local werewolves in full animal form are simply enormous wolves. Yes, a dangerous animal in its own right — magical, at that, and capable of passing on lycanthropy if it doesn't simply kill you first. But in partial transformation, achieved through a potion, a werewolf becomes a humanoid, hulking predatory thing. Fur, jaws, claws — yet with fully functional hands, human intelligence, and utterly feral, animal instincts: the pure lycanthrope's drive to tear, to kill, to visit harm upon anything human. And yet capable of prioritising targets — acting on a mission, following strategy, and so on.
Dreadful creatures, with physical capabilities that exceed anything human. Given that, in all likelihood, several large packs had entered the Dark Lord's service, one ought to expect him to deploy that force toward his own ends — whatever those might be, in any given moment. And one simply couldn't rule out a werewolf attack on general principle, either. Simply because.
All of this, combined with the fact that in the short time I had been consciously inhabiting this world I had already managed to accumulate a small but nonetheless meaningful number of people who mattered to me — that combination pushed me, with remarkable force, toward the idea of creating not merely an artefact capable of protecting its wearer, but one that could dish out a fair bit in return.
These thoughts, my rather successful experiments with Protego-based protective artefacts, knowledge I had read and added to my store relatively recently regarding interesting and situationally effective enhancements to Protego — all of it had merged into a single thought, a project that simply demanded immediate realisation. Well — calculations first, then realisation, naturally. And old Dumbledore had poured oil on the fire with his Horcruxes.
Sitting on the bed, I gathered my thoughts, got dressed, picked up my bag, and in the middle of the night left our shared room, stepping out into the empty common room. Silence, half-dark broken only by the fire in the hearth. In that atmosphere I settled into the armchair by the fireplace, took out my notebooks and perfectly ordinary pen and pencil, conjured a yellow Lumos above my head for better light, and set to work on calculations. There weren't many needed — the main body, the framework for Protego-based artefacts, had been calculated long ago.
My idea was simplicity itself, worth about five Knuts. There are a couple of spells that enhance Protego Totalum and Protego Maxima. First: Fianto Duri, which makes stationary Protego shields considerably more robust. Second: Repello Inimicum. The second spell turns the barrier of a stationary Protego into a truly impassable obstacle for dark forces. "Dark forces" meaning both sentient and not-entirely-sentient creatures that wish harm upon those sheltered beneath the dome — the harm being projected back upon those very creatures. It also protects against malicious charms and spells.
The application of that second spell to my bracelets and rings — particularly in light of the "lycanthropic threat" — held special interest for me. The thing is, werewolves in partial or full transformation inherently desire the death of their victims in varying degrees of severity and suffering, accompanied by consumption, or — if the werewolf is driven off and the victim survives — transformation of said victim into their own kind. Werewolves, struggle as they might, cannot under any circumstances pass through a barrier reinforced by Repello Inimicum — at best they sustain injuries poorly compatible with continued existence, at worst they simply crumble into glowing blue ash.
The concept of reinforcing an energy barrier in the form of Protego in this manner had seized my mind entirely, because one could not only create stationary protective domes with such bonuses via the bracelet, but also supplement ordinary Protego casts with them — albeit with minor adjustments for effectiveness. And beyond that, one might attempt to alter the geometry of the energy barrier, shaping it into a weapon against particularly hostile entities. Energy blades along the arms, for instance, as in some long-forgotten game from a past life. One could even add something akin to Baubillious distributed across the entire surface of the barrier.
These thoughts found their expression immediately in sketches on the notebook pages, and the hand holding pencil or pen seemed almost to flutter of its own accord, giving form to the fruits of a fevered and extraordinarily productive mind.
I barely noticed when pale light began to filter through the circular windows, set high in the walls but low to the ground outside, heralding the dawn. The silence in the common room was in no hurry to disperse, and the students remained in their beds — or wherever they'd been wandering on a Saturday night turned Sunday. Sighing, I decided to skip my physical training and exercises once again — all in the name of completing the calculations. Minor corrections were needed, minor given the overall scope of them, to incorporate those two spells and adjust the ring's operating algorithm.
Adjust how? The thing is, ordinary Protego variants don't persist for long. I had decided that to create what amounted to a permanently maintained shield — along the lines of a full-body barrier — one should create two, or better yet three, circuits that would generate layers of protection in sequence. That is: one layer of Protego shields is created, then a second, then a third. Then the first is regenerated, then the second, then the third. Beyond that, one ought to experiment with something like a phase variation — making it shift. So that at one moment the shield blocks everything from one side, and then from the other. Or perhaps introduce some other oscillating circuit — that might help avoid the self-destruction typical of ordinary Protego variants. Though probably not.
I improved the bracelet design first, as it required absolutely minimal intervention. By the time students had begun to wake and sunlight was pouring through the common room windows — the sun having climbed well above the hills — I had finished the ring design with the planned changes to the shield algorithms. Yes, the artefacts had become rather more voracious in their energy consumption, and by my calculations their use would produce a faintly prickling chill, transitioning almost immediately into warmth — like the mild numbness of a limb followed by the return of circulation — but given the particulars of my method of creation, these demands still fell within the range of moderately uncomplicated spells. The ring alone, with its rapid recast cycle for the shield layers, might cause more tangible discomfort, but that was only because local wizards were generally unaccustomed to a forced "connection" of magical consumers to their "energy grid."
— Spent the whole night here, did you?
A sleepy Justin had allowed himself to defy his upbringing and venture into the common room in a dishevelled state. On the other hand, many people regard the common room as part of a kind of home — safe ground, and so on — so perhaps even well-bred young wizards occasionally permitted themselves to appear there looking less than their best.
— You could put it that way, — I closed the notebook and packed my things into the bag.
— Didn't even train… Ugh… — Justin yawned, dropping into the armchair beside me. — That's odd. Who are you, and what have you done with our friend Hector?
— Hmm. Right now I'd make a joke about a dark but thoroughly lazy wizard who's taken over your friend's body, but given the current situation I'm afraid that would be in rather poor taste.
— Fair enough.
As the common room came gradually to life with its customary bustle, I headed back to our room, greeted the lads, and retreated to my alcove, taking out the anvil and the rest of my tools. However fine it was that I had already calculated the complete foundation for the protective artefacts — making changes didn't require starting from scratch.
As always, I began by creating a dozen bracelet and ring blanks, new hammer attachments, laying everything out in its proper place, and only then did I set to work in earnest. The hammer attachment had already been fashioned with all the requisite patterns, runes and other elements, slightly adjusted for my purposes.
The first bracelet blank went onto the anvil, the attachment was fixed to the hammer, I directed the necessary quantity of magic into it through concentrated will — together with the mental images of the spells I needed — and then came the moment of truth: hammer strikes blank, the familiar sparks and resonance, the inevitable faint hum in the head, and the product is ready. At least in theory.
After checking the bracelet with my wand and a set of diagnostic spells, I satisfied myself that it appeared to serve exactly the function I intended. Then I moved on to creating the rings by the same established method.
Having refined the technique, I created a ring and bracelet — not standard, purely mirrored pieces, but stylised ones. The ring: vines and roses — strange as that may sound — expressed purely through engraving or very shallow relief, none of the vulgarity of garish ostentation. The bracelet: roughly the same aesthetic. Two strikes of the hammer with different attachments, and there were two artefacts ready, which I planned to give to Daphne. The designs on them turned out so intricate, detailed and fine that one could spend hours simply examining them.
Of course, there was a set for Hermione as well, though a rather plain one. And one for Pansy too — she was Daphne's friend, after all, and not entirely a stranger to me. If something happened to her, it would inevitably affect Daphne, and that, naturally, was not in my interests.
After making simple boxes for these three sets and packaging them, I put them in my bag along with the other artefacts and headed to breakfast.
The Great Hall on Sunday was, as was frequently the case, extremely well attended. Particularly at breakfast, which on Sundays was traditionally more varied, more appetising — just better in general. And with the trip to Hogsmeade coming up soon, the students, full of enthusiasm, could hardly be expected not to fuel themselves properly first.
I hadn't taken more than a couple of steps toward my House table when the Weasley twins practically bounded up to me.
— Hector…
— …our talented friend.
— Hello, lads.
— Come on, let's step aside, — they said in unison, and we slipped out of the Great Hall.
A mere couple of metres from the doors, the twins cast a privacy charm around us.
— Right, so we passed it all on, received the money, here — Fred began, pulling a small pouch from his bag. — We've already taken our share…
— …So it all comes out even. Shall you count it?
— Let's build our mutually beneficial relationship on trust.
I put the pouch in my bag and glanced at the pair of them, who were clearly bursting to share some brilliant idea. Or perhaps not so brilliant.
— Out with it then, you're hovering about something.
— You go, — George nudged his brother in the shoulder.
— We've had an interesting notion for a couple of months now. Just for a lark, we planned — and even made — an enchanted hat. To deflect minor or mid-level curses, jinxes, charms. You wouldn't be particularly bothered if we put something along those lines up for sale?
— Should I be?
— You make artefacts, after all. Our hat is a different level of quality, granted — it's all enchantments combined with potion-soaking — but it falls under the same category of protective items.
— And what made you think of turning it into something serious rather than just a prank?
— Seems like — Fred said — there could actually be demand for it. We were thinking of making a line of specially enchanted clothing and selling it under our brand.
— No objection from me. You've got clothing, your own production methods. I've got artefacts, different methods. What gets sold in one shop is your business.
— Brilliant! — the twins grinned in unison. — Then we'll focus on the clothing.
On that note our "business" conversation was concluded, and we returned to the Great Hall so as not to miss breakfast entirely — neither the twins nor I wanted that.
I had no concerns whatsoever about their idea. Yes, I could also make specialised garments from my wonder-fabric and earn money from it, but I had absolutely no desire to get so deeply tangled up in cultivation, upkeep, production and all the rest of it. What's more, I didn't particularly want such a product to exist on shelves at all — that sort of clothing sits somewhat outside the bounds of the ordinary magical world. And it's hard to overstate the outrage it would generate from those who actually produce clothing: imagine buying a suit and never needing anything ever again. It would be like attempting to create efficient clean energy or a miniature reactor for every home in a world run on oil. They'd simply kill you, and that would be the end of it.
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