"When did you die?
"Seven years ago.
"Well, you wouldn't know it by looking at you. I'd give you five. Well, six at most.
© A New Christmas Tale
***
After talking to Crouch, I returned to Tonks' house. From there, we went together to one of London's oldest cinemas, the Rio Cinema, located on Kingsland High Street in Dalston. I had bought tickets in advance for the screening of the film adaptation of Charles Dickens' famous book, starring Bill Murray. I had liked this film since my previous life, because the whole picture is imbued with the spirit of Christmas, and watching it on Christmas Eve or New Year's Eve is a real treat. It was especially funny to watch Andromeda and her daughter, who were enthralled by the special effects, which were quite impressive for that time. That time, indeed.
All in all, the trip to the cinema was a great success. Dora and Harry met and even became friends (as far as that's possible with such an age difference), and the little one was happy and persuaded me to take him to see Tim Burton's horror film Beetlejuice, which was due to be released in a couple of weeks. It's also a wonderful film, although not really suitable for children.
However, I saw it at about the same age, and Harry isn't exactly a typical child, so we'll go to the cinema again. Another piece of good news was that Ted himself approached me about his family joining the Black family. Apparently, my sister managed to paint a picture of the opportunities that would open up for him after changing his status from "talented Muggle-born" to "promising head of a branch of the Black family."
There was no talk of money yet, but at least Meda promised to fulfil his long-held dream of becoming an apprentice in the artefact makers' guild, and I was happy to help, even though it would cost a pretty penny. But the family budget was slowly replenishing itself, Galleons were pouring in from controlled enterprises, so overall there was nothing to worry about.
All the legal details were to be discussed after the holidays, as Ted had taken time off to spend with his family, and I didn't insist, as a day more or less didn't make much difference. Besides, there was no point in rushing such matters.
The only thing I insisted on right away was installing a set of protective spells on their house. I sent a request to the guild a couple of days ago, all that remained was to discuss the price and the level of protection. Of course, it would never be as good as the one at Black House, but it would give the Tonks a couple of minutes to transfer to their secure mansion, and they could put up a pretty good fight. I hope, of course, that it won't be necessary.
Another point that my sister and I discussed was that Harry would sometimes stay with them, as a single bachelor is not the best company for little Potter, at least on a permanent basis; he should have a female role model around him.
After that conversation, I thought about it some more and decided that since I'd started this mess, I might as well see it through. I sent an owl to Lucius agreeing to his proposal to introduce the boys, since Nymph was so much older than the little Malfoy, and besides, she was away at Hogwarts for ten months of the year, and the boy needed normal socialisation. I regretted more than ever that wizards didn't have any kind of primary school where children could meet and make friends.
"However, things aren't so bad now," I remarked as the clearly happy little boy hugged Dora and her mother warmly. Finally, waving goodbye, Harry disappeared into the fireplace, transporting himself to Grimmauld Place.
After we returned home, Harry fell asleep almost immediately. It had been a great day, full of new experiences, and even such a lively child had to run out of energy at some point.
I had to report to my grandfather, who had agreed to teach me, and tonight was my first lesson. Right on the eve of Christmas, yes. I'm not happy about it either, but what can you do? I didn't really want to die from a crazy spell.
I quickly gathered my things, grabbed a set of healing potions, and used a portal to transport myself to the old man's house. Or rather, to a special area in front of the house.
I hadn't even had time to come to my senses when a red beam hit me in the head and knocked me back onto the stones. I think I also hit the back of my head, as the ringing in my ears clearly indicated.
"I think we've been through this before," I thought distantly as the night sky with its surprisingly bright stars was obscured by the old man's nasty grin...
"You're late, grandson," Pollux remarked maliciously, taking his time to remove the spell from me.
I gave him an eloquent look in response, resigning myself to the feeling of déjà vu. I'm immobilised, has he forgotten?
"No, I haven't forgotten," the old mage grinned again, then his expression turned serious. "But your occultive shields are useless against a troll. Come on, we don't have much time."
A second later, I was able to move and, muttering curses under my breath, hurried after the old man.
***
"Expulso duo!" An explosion tore the mannequin into small pieces, which, however, immediately returned to their original human form.
"Maybe you'd like to try a tickling spell?" The old man standing next to him snorted contemptuously, performing some incomprehensible manipulations with his wand.
"Bombarda Maxima!" The spell, ringing with the power poured into it, pierced through two mannequins, exploding on the third and leaving a melted crater around it.
"Boring..." A short yawn was heard from the right.
"Confringo triplex!" A thick yellow beam pierced five mannequins, leaving only melted edges where their chests had been, and blew up four more mannequins, creating a miniature fire.
"Boring.
"Turn ut pulvis!" I used one of the few spells I had learned from the family books. A chill pierced my heart. A dark sphere flew out of the end of the wand at the speed of a thrown stone, reducing about a dozen mannequins to dust before completely dissipating.
"Weak.
"Defluxiones!!!" I barked in irritation, and a branch-like lightning bolt left only crumbling handfuls of ash from the thirteen figures. The sound of the discharge was slightly delayed, thumping in my ears as if a grenade had exploded nearby.
"Ahem..." Pollux cleared his ears and snorted, "I bet you could get a better effect with a regular firecracker."
I felt myself boiling up. The test of knowledge that Senior Black had set me in the training hall of his mansion had been going on for almost two hours. I showed him every spell I knew. First, I performed various variations of shield spells, which my grandfather rejected almost entirely, then I spent several minutes apparating around the basement, dodging the stinging spells that the old man was surprisingly accurate with. After that, he suggested testing my mastery of combat magic by creating two dozen of these self-repairing mannequins. His order was to destroy them as quickly and as efficiently as possible. All this was interspersed with constant comments, as he put it, "attempts at real magic."
I had already tried almost every curse I knew! And, in my opinion, I showed a decent result! At least, I exceeded the Auror "minimum" in the first few minutes. Weak spells, such as Stupefy, had no effect on the mannequins at all, while the strong ones worked much weaker than they should have, even with practically minimal effort, rather than the amount of magic I poured into them from the generosity of my soul.
"Good," I grinned this time, "you want it faster and more effective, you'll get it..."
"Fiendfy..."
"Silencio," Pollux interrupted the spell, and I choked on the unspoken syllable. "The house is dear to me as a memory, so if you want to build a fire and cook some meat, you can do so on the lawn, preferably near the Ministry.
"Got it," I replied sheepishly, removing the spell of silence. Yes, I got a little carried away. Hellfire is definitely not something you want to use indoors if you want to keep it intact.
"Overall, not bad," the old man continued, "it would be nice to whip your neck like in the old days. Creating spells is disgustingly slow. Your movements are sweeping and imprecise, you're painting a picture, not fighting, you delicate young lady. I don't even want to talk about your efficiency rating. If it weren't for the constant supply of energy from the altar, you wouldn't even be able to cast Avada! The only thing I don't understand is how you're still alive. Put you up against one of my apprentices and there wouldn't be a wet spot left on the floor...
"I managed somehow before!" I retorted, stung to the quick. After all, I had already managed to fight a few battles after my escape, and my opponents were not easy opponents.
"In the past, you had fantastic, insane, simply magical luck against complete idiots," concluded Pollux, pursing his lips into a thin line. "Listen to what I'm telling you, grandson. I don't know what you've got into your head, but you've only ever relied on stupidity and luck. And the altar constantly feeds you, like the last member of the Rod family, you fool. Without it, with such high costs for ordinary spells, you would have burned out after the first unforgivable mistake. It's as if a muggle was given a wand. You have no understanding of what you are doing, nothing in your empty head.
Finishing his speech, Pollux stared at the remains of the mannequin and clearly thought for a moment. A sticky, cold lump suddenly formed in my stomach. This arrogant old man had suddenly come too close to the truth, it sounded too vivid, even though it was just a simple analogy.
And I suddenly realised that I had been very lucky since the moment I escaped. All the ill-considered actions I had already taken a thousand times could have led to a logical conclusion, and death was not the worst outcome.
"Hmm..." The old man suddenly appeared right next to me and tugged at my hand, which was still clutching the stick. "Give it here."
With these words, he took the magical instrument from my hands.
"I've seen this somewhere before... This isn't your wand, is it?" asked the elder Black sternly, looking at my companion and almost sniffing the wood.
"Well, yes..." I stammered, realising what he was getting at. "It's Lycorus's wand. I borrowed it while I was looking for a replacement..."
"IDIOT!" A sharp slap landed unexpectedly on the back of my long-suffering head. Sparks flew from my eyes.
"What for?!" I cried, looking at my ancestor in confusion.
"For that!" Pollux was almost shaking with rage. "First of all, it's someone else's magic concentrator. If you had even a shred of intelligence in your head, you would understand that you must never use someone else's tool to cast spells. Especially if it's an artefact belonging to a dark mage. Especially if it's been with him his whole life! It's been imbued with the sorcerer's magic, attuned to his aura. Not only do you not control your own magic, but an unsuitable concentrator wastes extra energy, acting as a harmonic oscillator in the process... Ahem. You won't understand that yet... Anyway, return it where you found it, you good-for-nothing. It's an old thing, you could say it's a family heirloom," he finished calmly, returning the concentrator.
"All right," I agreed meekly, putting the wand back in its holster. Apparently, I would have to deal with this issue first. Now I could easily order a magical tool anywhere without fear of attracting the attention of the entire Auror Corps. So that shouldn't be a problem.
"That's all for today," said Pollux when we finally climbed out of the basement to the first floor. "I have a rough idea of your level of training. My overall impression is satisfactory. I would even say 'bad, but not completely hopeless'. Of course, there is a lot of work ahead, but with enough diligence on your part, we can still make you a decent wizard. I will send you a list of books from the family library that you should read first by owl. By our next meeting, you should already have a concentrator. Your concentrator, not another dead mage, understand? I'll write to Gregorovich to take your order. He's just selling off his old wands right now, but I think the old bugger will be happy to get rid of a couple of debts.
"Okay, thank you!" I was even a little surprised. Today must be a day of unprecedented generosity. Is he in a Christmas mood or something?
"And one more thing," the old man squeezed my outstretched hand tightly, "even though you didn't tell me everything, don't hold me to being an old fool. I know you're playing a dangerous game with Dumbledore, picking up a boy that Voldemort was hunting. All this could end badly one day and the Black family line could simply die out with you. Remember what you asked me? I agree to teach you and help you as best I can, but my condition is that you continue the family line. At any cost. If you can't do that within a year, don't expect any help from me. Do you understand?
"Crystal clear," I hissed through clenched teeth. They're all mocking me. Krauch needs a child, and so does this one. Who's next, Dumbledore? The old bastard might get lucky... Ugh! Children are the flowers of life, of course, but I already have one flower!
"Then I won't keep you," Polux grinned again, letting go of my hand. Before the portal finally spun me into the folds of space, I heard him say maliciously:
"Merry Christmas.
***
The entire story has already been written at:
patreon.com/posts/reborn-as-sirius-142654970