Chapter 215. Return to London.
England. Gloucestershire.
After returning to Britain, Severus first caught up on a week's worth of news, and strangely, everything had been relatively quiet and calm. No clashes or incidents. Life was moving at its own pace. Though the heavy atmosphere that had settled over the country after the recent funeral had not yet dissipated, its echoes remained: black dress robes on some wizards, photographs in the papers and on notice boards in Diagon and Knockturn Alleys, conversations about those events and rumors circulating in bars, restaurants, and on the street. The wizarding world of England was recovering, but it was doing so very slowly.
He had not yet met with Bella in person since his return, though they spoke often enough through the mirror in the evenings. By now, Bella had even grown accustomed to Nagini, who never took her eyes off her during those calls, giving Bella a vague and uncomfortable feeling. It was as if she saw something in those eyes that looked like jealousy, which was very strange indeed.
And since that day in the Yorkshire Dales National Park, when Severus had revealed his secret, she had begun to trust him somewhat more and to behave more genuinely than before, though she tried to hide it behind bluntness and indifference.
The most significant shift, however, was that she had started taking the initiative: openly asking about certain things, seeking his opinion, sharing her own, even requesting advice. It was about training, yes, but given her proud, self-assured nature, even that was an enormous step forward.
The direction and pace of things between them suited the wizard perfectly, busy as he was. As a pureblood aristocrat raised by Walburga herself in the finest traditions of blood purity, earning the respect of such a girl as a half-blood was a genuine achievement, one few would have managed.
But what he liked most about all of it was making Bellatrix flustered. In those moments, her displeased expression looked particularly appealing, something he had no qualms about pointing out to her, which reliably put color in her cheeks. So at every meeting, he made it his quiet goal to rattle her composure until she could no longer maintain the act, and he almost always managed it. Outwardly, it infuriated her, though inside, paradoxically, she liked the attention. More precisely, she liked that it was directed not at the pureblood witch of the ancient House of Black, but at a girl named Bellatrix.
By ten in the evening, Severus finished with the bronze sword, which had occupied him almost constantly since his return from China. The results didn't particularly disappoint him. He had more or less anticipated them.
To charge the sword and light all eight characters, one would need to expend at least a third of a Grand Master's reserve, and it took a full five seconds to do so. During those five seconds, even a lesser Devil could have killed him twenty times over. That made it entirely impractical in battle unless the sword was pre-charged.
The second drawback was how quickly the magic depleted. After the first strike, half the energy simply vanished, requiring the sword to be recharged, which took another two and a half seconds: time that could just as easily cost a life.
The third limitation was the absence of an elemental component altogether. All the sword could do was become harder and sharper, which put it behind the Sword of Gryffindor in that regard, since that blade could absorb the properties of nearly any substance it was immersed in, such as venom, acid, fire, or any other element, up to three at once.
At present, his own three slots were already taken: Nagini's venom; fire, to reinforce his flame affinity; and wind, to feed and amplify the fire itself.
Still, this artifact had one genuine advantage: its edge. A barrier created by a wizard at the beginning of the Grand Master rank offered little resistance, and even one level above hadn't fared much better. The blade passed through with ease, though the test had cost him twenty kilograms of crystals.
By Severus's calculations, even a barrier at the peak of the Master rank shouldn't pose a serious challenge for the sword. As for the absolute peak, the Slytherin couldn't say anything with certainty. But recalling his own experience at that level, he thought perhaps, with constant effort and a steady flow of magic, there was a chance. In his own time he had fought wizards at the beginning of the Great Archmaster rank. It was worth thinking through, but spending several hundred kilograms of crystals on the question held no appeal.
Even so, Severus had no intention of tossing the sword into the back of his coin pouch and forgetting it. He hadn't lost interest. He still wanted to understand how it had been made.
After twelve full hours of analysis, using the most advanced diagnostic charms and rituals available to him at his current level, all he had managed to determine was its composition: copper, tin, and iron. That was a comprehensive defeat, and it stung his pride somewhat. For the first time in a year and a half, there was something in this world he could not work out.
But this didn't make him hang his head. It did the opposite. It sharpened something. This was exactly the kind of challenge no one had thrown at him in a very long time. He wasn't angry or discouraged. He was glad. Glad that this world had not turned out to be simple after all, that there were still things in it he didn't know and couldn't explain. That same childlike excitement he'd felt the first time an artifact he couldn't crack had ended up in his hands.
Sitting at his desk with his chin resting in one hand, Severus watched the sword floating in its magical circle, tapping a finger slowly against the wood.
"What is your secret?" Li Er had helped him translate the characters on the blade. That was his native script. They read: the sword of the King of Yue, Goujian, made for his personal use. Who had made it for the king, however, remained unknown even to the old man, and he had known nearly every great wizard and artificer of that era. It was doubtful that the maker's identity could ever be recovered. Just as with the British side of magical history, the Chinese side had likely been rewritten hundreds of times, and the spirit simply couldn't know everything.
The books he'd found in China's libraries about this ruler and his conquests contained no reference that could shed light on the artifact's creator. But that didn't discourage him. From the start, he had understood this wouldn't be easy.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door, and a few seconds later Nagini slid in, fixing him with a reproachful stare.
"You didn't sleep last night and only came back from the library at six in the morning. You promised you wouldn't stay up late today," she hissed her displeasure, reminding him of the commitment he'd made.
"Hm? Already?" He raised an eyebrow in mild surprise and checked his pocket watch. It read only 10:12 PM. "It's still early. Not even midnight."
"Don't argue. I won't let you work regardless, so wrap it up. Toby finished with the dragon meat and we're only waiting for you."
"All right, all right." He stood, stretched, and gave Nagini a small smile, then sent the sword to the shelf to the right of the desk and followed her out.
He came downstairs and stepped outside, then stopped, his smile faltering as he took in the illuminated scene around the front of the house.
The house was surrounded by wolves.
Before him stood three Kings of the Inner Magical Jungle: the Black Hound, the Thunder Tiger, and the Bear, and alongside them stood the King of Chimeras.
Not far from the entrance stood a tree.
On one of its branches sat the Phoenix, still regarding the wolves and boars with the same lofty disdain as always, though it kept flicking its gaze toward one particular point, as though unable to decide where to focus.
Beneath the oak stood a gazebo, where Eileen sat watching all of this with quiet amusement, stroking one of the Qilin on the head. The other two stood very close to the house-elf, along with a tiger cub and a chimera cub, and that house-elf was now the center of every magical creature's attention. Toby kept glancing nervously around him, clearly miserable under so many hungry eyes, while doing his best to continue roasting the meat on a spit.
Such was the scene that greeted Severus. He genuinely didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"I should have bought more."
"That's exactly right."
"Meow!" Lucky appeared before a slightly sheepish Severus, composed his most innocent expression, and raised a paw to point at the meat, then back at himself. Severus's smile twitched for the second time, and he wasn't the only one.
"You won't burst?"
"Meow! Meow-meow!" The shameless kitten thumped his chest with his paw in reply, as if to say: Relax, there's plenty of room.
When the beasts moved to object to that brazenness and started growling in the kitten's direction, he looked at them with such an expression that in an instant all of them fell silent and lowered their heads, including the three Kings of the Inner Magical Jungle. The King of Chimeras alone met his gaze directly and did not look away.
"That's enough." Severus said it quietly, and every eye turned to him. "The meat won't go around. My mistake. I forgot about you completely. So." The roasted pieces lifted off the spit and, in midair, divided themselves into portions under the watching eyes of every creature present, landing mostly in front of the cubs, twelve of them in total, including one shamelessly bold kitten. "Toby."
"Yes, sir." The house-elf appeared before Severus and gave a small bow.
"Do we still have golden antelope meat?"
"Yes, sir. You brought back quite a large supply on the last trip."
"Can you prepare it for everyone within the next two hours, if Gorby helps?" The house-elf thus named materialized next to the first one almost instantly, mirroring its bow.
"Yes!" Both answered together.
"Then get started." Both vanished, and Severus looked at Nagini.
"We can try it later." She understood what he meant and gave a gentle nod, sending him the image of a smiling girl.
"And?" He glanced at Eileen.
"I have no objection either," she answered calmly, still stroking the Qilin as it finished off its meat.
The other creatures gave reluctant nods, eyeing the cubs—who were already finishing off the dragon meat—with barely concealed envy.
By then the house-elves had returned, ten skinned carcasses drifting above them: animals resembling ordinary antelope but twice the size, with three horns each, which instantly drew the gaze of every monster assembled there.
The wizard sat down on the front step, watching the gathering with a quietly ironic smile.
I never imagined I'd be spending an evening in company this large. Or this strange.
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