Bab 6: Chapter Six
Alvis dropped Harry off at school, then made his way to a café not far from the Sanctuary in London. He didn't have to wait long before the seat across from him was occupied by another man. He tilted his head in greeting and discreetly raised a barrier around them with a flick of his hand.
"Mr. Lipwig, I presume?"
"Indeed, Lord Black. Thank you again for agreeing to meet with me so quickly."
"It's nothing. I have a good idea of what your organization wants from me."
The man gave a brief smile before nodding. "I thought as much. As you seem to know, the International Guild of Barrier Breakers and Curse-Casters keeps an eye on all curse breakers, especially non-affiliated ones, to facilitate their engagement by clients and ensure you don't use your skills to commit crimes. Recently, we've received many inquiries about you. Of course, our privacy policy prevents us from saying anything, but we haven't even been able to confirm your existence. Can you explain why you claim to be a curse breaker when no one has ever heard of you?"
Alvis rested his chin on his hand, his elbow on the table, and asked: "May I first have confirmation of your affiliation with GIBBS?"
The man nodded and took out a badge from his pocket, placing it on the table.
Alvis touched it with the tip of his finger and cast an identification spell. He received a positive response and nodded. Then, he removed the silver ring from his right ear, which was attached to a snake hook by a chain of the same material, and placed it on the table. He did the same with the three silver rings in his left ear, each set with an emerald, an amethyst, and an obsidian.
The agent across from him drew his wand and tapped each piece of jewelry, then pressed the tip of his wand to a blank parchment. He raised an eyebrow when he saw what was written.
"Alvis Corvus Black Peverell, veteran curse breaker, active for twenty years, a specialist in ritual, enchantment, and necromancy. And specialist in curse breaker cemeteries? What does the last part mean?"
"I'm very good at surviving, so I'm often sent to cemeteries to find the source of the problem and, most of the time, resolve it."
The man nodded, took note, then furrowed his brow. "However, we have no record of you."
"That's because I underwent a dimensional shift."
"Ah. That explains it. Not temporal?"
"No, historical differences."
"How did you survive that?"
"My familiar, Fawkes, is a phoenix. He saved me from the initial shock with a burst of flame. I underwent a blood adoption and magical name change shortly after my arrival, which handled the duplication issue."
The man nodded and took notes on his parchment. "Fawkes? Wouldn't that be the phoenix of Albus Dumbledore? And how were you transferred?"
"Yes. He bonded with me after Dumbledore's death. I was working on a site where one of the warnings could be translated as 'Intruders will be banned from reality,' and someone cast a spell at my back while I was dismantling the barrier."
"I see. Would it be possible to get information about the site? And about cemeteries you might know of?"
He nodded and put his earrings back on.
"I can send all of this to the organization's headquarters. It's still in New York, right?"
"Yes. And that would be much appreciated. Have you regularized your situation?"
"Yes, with Amelia Bones and the CIMS."
"But not with us?"
"I don't plan on returning to service for at least ten years. I prefer not to put my life in danger before my nephew reaches adulthood."
He took more notes before asking: "Would you still be available for correspondence? As a consultant."
"Of course."
"Very well. Is there anything else you'd like to report?"
He took out his diplomatic immunity papers, and the man raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. He made a copy of them and added them to his file.
"I plan to settle in the USA at the end of the school year."
"Very well, I will inform our offices there. That's all from me. I'll send you a copy of your completed file within the week. Thank you for your time, Lord Black."
They said their goodbyes and left the café.
Alvis rode his motorcycle to the Sanctuary and parked it in the lot. He entered, briefly greeted Master Rama, and made his way to the Mirror Room to return to Kamar-Taj. He was late for his appointment. He arrived in the library and scanned the room for Master Luring, finding her sitting at an isolated table in a corner, reading a tome. He stopped beside the table and gently cleared his throat.
"Master Luring?"
She raised her head, placed a finger in her book to mark her page, and raised an eyebrow at him. "Mr. Peverell, you're late."
"I know, my apologies, I had an unexpected meeting. May I sit?"
She nodded, and he sat across from her with a slight smile, after removing his coat. For some reason, he instinctively tried to remain polite and formal with her.
"I hope this unexpected meeting wasn't serious."
He shook his head and rolled up the sleeves of his tunic. "No, just a few administrative issues with the Guild of Curse Breakers."
"You're a curse breaker?"
"Yes."
"Oh, I didn't realize you were a mage, rather than a powerless affiliate. I believe you call them 'Muggles' in your country. We see them quite often here."
He nodded with an amused smile. "Yes, Muggles. And no, I'm not one of them. The Ancient found me after an incident involving me that drew her attention, and I decided I wanted to learn witchcraft. The travel spells here are far superior to anything found in magical communities."
She wrinkled her nose at the mention of the spells from magical communities and nodded.
"Portkeys and Floo powder are just barbaric and lack finesse. Apparition is barely acceptable."
"Exactly! While the portals and mirrors of Kamar-Taj are smooth and comfortable to use. Even though the Ancient One refuses to let me examine the mirrors until I've obtained my Master's in Enchantment through witchcraft. That doesn't stop me from experimenting with runic enchantments. They seem to be a mix of a communication mirror, to connect two mirrors, and vanishing cabinets. Although mixing the arithmancy of both is a nightmare. Less nightmarish than some of the equations I've had to do in the past, but still irritating." He heard a slight chuckle and fell silent, realizing he had gone off on a tangent. He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "Sorry, I tend to go off on tangents."
"It's nothing, it's interesting, and it's clear that you enjoy what you do. Are you an enchanter? In addition to being a curse breaker?"
"I'm a master of enchantment and ritual. I also collect all the interesting magics that come my way. Which is a lot of magic, since they're generally interesting, at least on a theoretical level, if not a practical one."
"Except for arithmancy."
He groaned dramatically, leaning back in his chair. "I hate arithmancy. The equations never seem to want to work with me!"
"It's not that complicated."
He raised an eyebrow, then pulled one of his journals from his bag and flipped through it until he reached the page he wanted. He unrolled the very long parchment that was tucked inside and placed it in front of the young woman. She leaned forward to examine the equation, and he watched her brow furrow as she read the horrible tangle of numbers that would give nightmares even to the most hardened arithmancy fan. She finished reading, closed her eyes, took a long breath, placed her hand on the parchment, and gave him an incredulous look.
"This equation shouldn't work."
"It works. The ritual works, I've used it before."
"This... this shouldn't be possible. It mixes three different systems, all of which are incompatible with each other!"
He pointed at the parchment. "But their shared incompatibility makes them compatible."
"You say that like it's as simple as multiplying a negative by a negative to get a positive! It doesn't work like that. And yet it does." She looked as though she was moments away from wanting to strangle him, but then took a deep breath and released it slowly. "How? And why even make this equation in the first place? Couldn't you have created a simpler ritual?"
"I created it on the fly, when I needed it urgently, by mixing two different rituals, and I did the arithmancy afterward."
She slowly pinched the bridge of her nose, looked back at the parchment, and shot him a glare. "How are you still alive?"
"I'm very good at surviving things that should have killed me. And this isn't the deadliest case."
"How so? From what I see, you should have died at least seven times, simultaneously."
"My record is sixteen simultaneous times."
"You do realize that this isn't something you should be proud of, right?"
He shrugged with an amused smile.
"When your luck is as bad as mine, and you brush with death as regularly as I do, you end up getting used to it and finding humor in it."
"And breaking the laws of magic?"
He gave a feral grin at that and answered cheerfully: "That's the most fun thing when you're doing magic. Plus, I see them more as a vague guideline. Don't tell me you've never tried to break the impossible?"
She sniffed in amusement, a corner of her mouth lifting in a fleeting smile. "It might have happened to me once or twice." She glanced at the parchment again and commented: "This kind of ritual requires a large amount of magic, yet I don't sense anything coming from you."
He nodded and tapped the silver bracelets he wore, one on each wrist. "Magic suppressors. They're mandatory on the non-magical side, once you reach a certain level of magical power, to prevent passively frying all the technology around us."
She reached out a hand. "May I?"
He shrugged and allowed her to take hold of one of his wrists to examine the tiny runes etched into his bracelets. She had delicate hands, with calluses showing regular handling of blades. Which wasn't surprising, as most followers and all the Masters practiced martial arts. It suited her oddly well. Dangerous, delicate, and beautiful...
He shook his head, trying to push those intrusive thoughts away. They never led anywhere good.
Lora released his hand and raised an eyebrow at him.
He shook his head with a small smile, and she didn't ask any further questions.
"An interesting enchantment. I don't recall seeing anything like it. Did you make them yourself?"
"Yes, not only are the standard suppressors not strong enough for me, but I also don't trust the work of a perfect stranger on my magic."
"A reasonable choice. There's always the risk of ending up with shackles that prevent us from using our magic."
He nodded, absentmindedly rubbing his wrists. It had been a while since he'd let his magic run free, and it stirred beneath his skin. "That's true, although I can usually get rid of them in a few minutes."
She raised an eyebrow with another fleeting smile. "Oh? Do you often find yourself restricted?"
"I like testing new methods to prevent a mage from using their powers if only to figure out how to counter them."
She looked amused and intrigued and made a circular motion with her hands, causing shackles connected by chains to appear. He stared at the movement in surprise. It was a dimensional pocket, but not one anchored in an object like his bag was.
"A personal dimensional pocket connected to you, but not anchored in an object? How? Without a concrete anchor point, they always collapse sooner or later..."
"Maybe I'll tell you one day."
She handed him the handcuffs, and he took them carefully. They were thick, and made of several interlocking rings. He manipulated them for a moment, observing how they moved and connected, as well as the Norse runes covering them.
He hummed distractedly, intrigued. He'd seen more than one pair of anti-magic handcuffs in his life, some of which used this alphabet, but these seemed much more complex and powerful. He moved one ring and smiled in amusement as the runes shifted simultaneously, reconfiguring to follow the movement of the pieces.
He heard a page turn and noticed that his interlocutor had started reading his journal. He shrugged and left her to it. That journal contained nothing too confidential or dangerous. He returned to playing with the handcuffs without a word.
The silence was broken a few minutes later by a comment from the young woman: "You do love breaking the laws of magic."
He lifted his head from the parchment on which he had been taking notes. "Yes. Where are you?" She handed him the journal, and he glanced at it. He snorted in amusement and returned to his study. "Wait until you read the rest before saying that."
He heard her resume her reading. A minute later, she sighed heavily. "Do you possess a survival instinct?"
"Of course, or I wouldn't have survived this long. It's preservation instinct that I lack. That, and the common sense that every normal person develops in early childhood. But who wants to be normal, anyway? Normal is boring."
"Indeed."
He made one last calculation and let out a slight victory cry with a broad smile. "Found it!"
"Really?"
He nodded, then stood, taking the handcuffs with him. He looked at the woman with a playful expression and asked: "Are you coming?"
"Where to?"
"Somewhere I can release my magic without risking frying any tech. I hope you have the keys, if I'm wrong."
She stood, nodding, and tucked her journal away. "Of course."
He noted that she hadn't promised to release him, but he pushed that thought aside. He had a potentially dangerous experiment to conduct!
They left the library, and he opened a portal to the mountains overlooking Hogwarts. They found themselves on a rocky promontory, where they could see the entire valley and the castle, perched above the lake. They were far from the school's barriers and the village, so there shouldn't be any accidents.
Loki observed her protégé with interest, curious about what the man would do. She had noticed the mark as soon as he rolled up his sleeves the first time, and it had intrigued her. Her curiosity had only grown when she learned that he was a real mage, able to hide his magical power, and apparently, he regularly broke the impossible. She hadn't been able to see his past when she grabbed his wrist both times, but she attributed that to magical protections against divination.
The handcuffs were a test of what he could truly do. Was he skilled in enchantments, or was he just boasting to impress her?
She couldn't help but widen her eyes when he removed his suppressors, and his magic spread through the air. He was powerful, much more so than an average mortal. His magic swirled around him in a vortex visible to the naked eye, causing a slight breeze.
She now understood why he had to use custom suppressors. The maelstrom calmed, and his magic stabilized, like a cloak of power surrounding the man. His eyes were closed, his body relaxed, and his face tilted towards the sky, clearly enjoying the moment. She couldn't help but smile in amusement at the sight, even though she understood the relief of releasing magic that had been sealed for one reason or another.
She let out a small fraction of her power, curious to feel the other's magic, to understand its nature. She immediately withdrew it when she felt his magic trying to bind with hers, her eyes widening in surprise again. This wasn't possible…
Alvis turned to the woman in surprise. He had felt her magic reaching out toward him, not hostile, and his own didn't react the way it usually did.
"Are you alright?"
Lora quickly recovered and gave him a reassuring smile, causing him to relax once again. "Yes, it's nothing. Are you going to test the handcuffs?"
He nodded, excited again. He waved his hand and conjured a wooden bench, facing the landscape below. He sat down with a sigh before holding the cuffs out to Lora. She took them and snapped them onto his wrists.
He felt his magic restricted the moment the rings closed. He couldn't use it, even internally, and nodded, satisfied with his analysis of the object's effects. He hesitated for a moment before removing one of his gloves, revealing his right hand, which was covered in scars. He cut his index finger and began tracing runes on the handcuffs.
Blood always contained magic; it was what made it so dangerous in rituals. Therefore, it could still be used when one didn't have access to their magic, to fuel blood runes.
The Black and Potter libraries contained many works on blood magic and blood runes—books his mother must have read to create the sacrificial blood protection that had both saved and complicated his life.
He had devoured them to better understand what had happened that night and its consequences on his development. If the specialty weren't illegal in much of the world, he would have been qualified for a master's in the field.
He completed the last rune and activated it. The handcuffs resisted for a moment before there was a click and they opened. He removed them, his magic exploding out of his body again, enveloping Lora before he could control it.
He displayed the open handcuffs with a wide grin. "Tada!"
Lora gave him a sincere smile as she took them. He made sure to erase any trace of his blood, of course. "Well done. I'm impressed. It took me much longer to figure out how to get rid of them in the past, though my method is different."
He nodded as he put his glove back on after healing his finger. He leaned back against the bench's backrest, contemplating the horizon. He could wait a bit before putting his suppressors back on.
"Few people know how to use runes and blood magic."
"Blood is powerful and dangerous," she conceded. "But so useful when you don't have access to other means."
"Exactly! And it's the best medium to use when you're in an anti-magic zone. Too bad it's also illegal..."
She nodded, clearly understanding the sentiment. They sat in silence for a while, contemplating the landscape.
Alvis frowned when his magic tried once more to curl around the woman, and he recalled it again, taking control of it.
"Do you know why my magic reacts like this? This is the first time it's happened. Usually, it only acts on its own to protect me from an attack."
Lora remained silent for a moment before responding. "Our magics must be partially compatible and resonate with each other. It's pretty rare."
He snorted in amusement, regaining control of his magic again. "If it's rare, then I guess it's not surprising it happens to me."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh?"
He shrugged and closed his eyes, suddenly feeling tired. "Like I said, my luck is awful. It has three levels: chaotic, divine, and why. Divine, I can't lose at gambling, the higher the stakes, the more I win. Chaotic, I always end up in impossible, ridiculous, and potentially deadly situations, only to get out of them without much harm. And why is... it's when I stop asking who, what, how, and just jump straight to Why."
"Oh? And would you qualify me as a why?"
He thought for a moment before nodding. "I think so, yes. I still don't know if it's a good thing or not. We don't know anything about each other, after all."
She raised an eyebrow, remained silent for a moment, then asked, "And do you want to learn more?"
He stared at her, uncertain. It was dangerous territory, binding oneself to new people. He turned toward the sky, pondering the question. He had lost everything—though he'd found Andy, and gotten Ted and Harry, and even the Grangers, it wasn't the same. He hadn't even fully mourned his old world, even though he had broken down privately more than once. He knew that behind his mental barriers, he was an emotional wreck. Did he want to risk getting attached to someone new? Being close to him was dangerous, and he was dangerous to those close to him.
Did he want to get to know the woman beside him? Her magic seemed to float around them, gently drifting in and out, moving closer and further away from Lora, like a cat discovering a new interesting toy. But...
He sighed and shook his head. He rubbed his face, tired, before turning to her with a faint smile. "Why not?"
"You don't seem too enthusiastic about it."
"I've… lost a lot recently. A truly negative why, if you will, and I'm really in a bad emotional state. But, I'd like to get to know you. My magic is one of the few things I trust blindly, and if it likes you, then you must be worth the try. It'sprobably a better judge of character than I am anyway."
She tilted her head with a slight smile. "Very well. It seems we were originally going to discuss mythology."
He straightened up, pleased by the change of subject, and pulled out his copy of Snorri's Edda.
They spent several hours discussing and debating the legends, eventually moving to the Three Broomsticks to eat and enjoy their butterbeers.
𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝?
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