Give people what they want from you, and you will get what you want from them in return.© Alex Flynn, Beauty and the Beast
***
It felt as if every cell in my body was filled with magical energy. It trembled and quivered inside and out, and seemed to have a twisted will of its own, striving to tear me apart and destroy me. Not only my enemies, but me too, which was extremely unnerving.
"Vocare ad tenebras..." The words of an ancient family spell, spoken in Latin, unleashed something that I could only control with great difficulty. First came the cold. No, not even that. A cold that slowly spread from my solar plexus and enveloped my entire body, right down to my fingertips, causing goose bumps to form. Then came a heaviness that fell on my shoulders like a leaden cloak. Darkness itself enveloped me, seemed weightless, but so heavy, I could literally feel the magic inside me transforming into a primal, frightening darkness that demanded more and more energy, becoming more and more tangible and powerful, striving to break free and gain its freedom.
Nevertheless, I was still able to control the spell, otherwise I would not have used it. Something elusively similar to the Hellfire spell, the dark summoning spell, when controlled sufficiently, became a universal tool, taking away not only magic but also the very life of the careless user. But my memory already contained this spell, as well as how to use it. And the darkness obeyed, surrounding me with a dense cocoon, deflecting spells, turning into swords and spears at my will, which sought to catch up with their nimble targets, exploding in the direction of the target with thin tentacles, blocking the passage, seeking to grab, tear apart, destroy...
At the same time, the magicians were not sitting still either. The amazing coordination of their teamwork, as well as their quick movements in incomplete transgression, did not give me the quick victory I had expected at first. But they also did not let me die in the first few seconds, when my opponents concentrated all their spells on me, only miraculously failing to overcome the barrier of darkness.
Perhaps if it hadn't been for a brief respite at the beginning, when the spells were just beginning to spin their flywheel, I would have been dead already. Or slightly worse than dead...
However, with every passing second, our roles were reversed. The more time passed, the stronger the darkness became. Soon, the continuous stream of bright flashes spreading across my defence in multicoloured blobs began to weaken. The grey figures of my enemies began to move more slowly among the branches and trunks of the trees. A couple of times, my tentacles found their target and touched the unprotected flesh of the bandits, turning it into nothing.
The end was inevitable. After a desperate attempt by the mage to break through my defence with another series of spells ending with Avada, I was able to catch him as he emerged from the transgression and pin him to a tree. His partner, with a wild cry, rushed to his aid and immediately met the same fate.
"Gotcha," I said with undisguised satisfaction, looking at my victims. Black strands, like weightless ribbons, entwined the two bodies, which were afraid to even move. I was suddenly overcome by a playful mood. The two formidable magicians looked like fragile butterflies in my hands, and all I had to do was squeeze my fingers to...
"A-a-a-a-a!!! Protego! Protego!!!" — suddenly rang out behind me, distracting me from savouring my victory. Turning around, I stared in surprise at two more tentacles of darkness slowly creeping towards the wolf, now freed from the spell. The thin film of shield spells she had created from Rat's stick was of little help to the girl, and Protego simply disintegrated under the power of the spells.
"The devil..." My unhealthy interest in the prisoners suddenly disappeared. I staggered from the sudden weakness. No wonder these spells were compared to hellfire. As soon as I loosened my grip for a second, the darkness, having had its fill of magical energy, began to drain my own life force. Now the tool that had previously obeyed my will was beginning to get out of control. Forgetting about the mages, I set about restraining the darkness that had almost broken free.
It was difficult. It was almost like trying to keep a wolfdog on a leash when it was baring its teeth and smelled blood. When you don't know whether the leash or you will break first. However, I held on. It wasn't easy, though. My shirt stuck disgustingly to my body from the sticky sweat covering me. My fist clenched convulsively on the magic concentrator, my breathing was heavy and ragged, as if I had just run a cross-country race. But the darkness finally, reluctantly, disappeared, leaving me on the verge of magical exhaustion, alone with a frightened girl and a bunch of gangsters who had fallen down with various degrees of injury.
"Incarcerous," I cast two binding spells, followed by two stunning spells. I'll figure out what to do with them later, but right now...
"Yeah," I scratched the back of my head, looking at the spot where the surprisingly nimble girl had been a minute earlier. Neither she nor the boys were in the clearing anymore. Judging by the rapidly receding noise, she must have been running pretty fast. A normal reaction, really, although her chances of escaping me weren't very high, especially considering the search pendant.
Speaking of which.
The pendant was twitching slightly. At first, I thought it was reacting to the distance from the desired object, but when I took it out...
"So that's how it works," I whistled in surprise, looking at the amulet. Meanwhile, it was vibrating intensely and stretching the chain. Only not in the direction where the shapeshifter had fled so quickly, but towards one of the captured mages. At first, I even thought it was broken, but as soon as I took off Sparrow's mask, everything fell into place. Under the guise of a tough, taciturn mage was a pretty female mage, to whom the pendant had reacted so strongly. Hmm... Now I understand why such a face was hidden under the mask. The bandit turned out to be a Veela.
This was evidenced not only by her overly correct French features — in fact, any mage, given enough talent or extra galleons in her purse, could alter her appearance in any way she wanted, since magic allows for quite a lot, provided you have the desire and no specific curses or magical injuries...
The answer lay in the fact that the black-haired beauty had already begun to transform into her second form. A spell cast at the right moment caught up with her halfway. Her face had already begun to stretch upwards, and her beautiful girlish features were being replaced by predatory bird-like features, though she still retained some of her elegance.
As far as I could tell, contrary to the malicious gossip, Veelas were equally beautiful in both forms, it's just that when angry, any woman... well, you know.
She probably wore the mask so that the other members of the gang wouldn't bother her, and also to restrain her natural aura. After all, in England, with its largely outdated laws and inherent racism, Veelas were despised by many as an inhuman species. Crouch will probably be delighted... Although who asked him?
Since there was no point in chasing after the she-wolf, I rested a little, healed the prisoners, renewed my spells, and asked the house-elf to take them to the basement. All that remained was to pick up one more unusual member of this gang... if he hadn't been torn to pieces yet, of course. Werewolves are like that. Although there seem to be some pacifists living here, so maybe I'll get lucky. Not him, though.
A few minutes later, I was in the clearing, where I was greeted by a not-so-happy delegation of werewolves crowded around a short, stocky man of about fifty or sixty, with snow-white short hair, a thin, cheeky face, and a straight nose with a slight hump.
Despite the purple bruise already forming under his eye, he held himself with great dignity and would have looked more like an old soldier if it weren't for his simple, well-made shirt and wide trousers with some kind of slippers instead of boots. His clothes gave him the appearance of a peasant. His face was lined with deep wrinkles, especially around his calm grey-yellow eyes. Next to him, kneeling, was the incredibly lucky "Jimmy," bound hand and foot but still alive. Next to him lay a pile of things.
"Greetings, honoured one..." The old man, speaking on behalf of the werewolves, hesitated a little, and I activated the concealment spell just in case. Suddenly, someone might read their memories. "Mage. My name is Benjamin Stone, I am the elder of this small community. We want to thank you for saving us and bring you gifts."
He pointed to a pile of small bags, apparently containing herbs or something similar. Separately, there was a neat pile of the bandits' belongings, amulets and magical concentrators. Jimmy sat nearby, bound. He looked like he'd been beaten up a little, but only slightly. The werewolves had apparently decided not to anger the stray mage who had killed their entire gang. They were smart. On the other hand, if they had been really smart, they would have run away long ago, like the girl. They took the concentrators and disappeared.
Judging by a quick glance, there weren't enough wands. Either they were broken, or they decided to take a couple with them. For registered non-humans, getting a wand requires some effort... However, I don't need the remaining concentrators or the other items anyway. Nor do I need herbs on such a scale. I have enough money. I already took what I needed.
On the other hand, regular deliveries like this might have been interesting. I had a few ideas about how to squeeze out competitors in the magical British market... But we'll see.
"You can keep it," I finally replied, turning the swindler into a tin soldier who took his place in my pocket next to the now useless pendant.
"Thank you very much, but how can we repay you for saving us?" the old man asked me, somewhat cautiously but as politely as possible. Cautious, that's good.
"If you want to get paid for what you're doing now, at least twice as much. And normal living conditions and protection. Get in touch with me," I tore a sheet of paper from a notebook I had picked up and tied it to the notebook with a Protean spell, handing it to the elder. "If you change your mind, write to me and we'll discuss the details. I don't need anything from you."
"Thank you, we'll think about it..." said the old man, confused, but I could hardly hear him anymore. The apparition funnel was already carrying me away from my endless night adventure. The only thing I wanted at that moment was to fall face down on my bed and sleep.
The night of Yola was coming to an end.
***
The entire story has already been written at:
patreon.com/posts/reborn-as-sirius-142654970