5. The Preceptor
I finished the school-year with a spectacular success, passing perfectly all the OWL exams and moreover receiving the special awards from Transfiguration and Potions. Together with a glory of a hero that surrounded me from the night I had caught Hagrid, it made me feel as the most proud and happy man in the world.
I was not going back to the orphanage. I took a room in the hotel "Morpheus Bed", which I was always very attached to since I had spent my first night in the magical world there. I didn't have to bother about money. A special prize, which I was awarded by the headmaster Dippet for the "eminent services" and amounting to 1000 galeons, could ensure a rich life on the Diagon Alley not only by two months of the holidays, but for the whole year.
First weeks of July I spent on improving the art of teleportation. I learned it at the beginning of the fifth class, just to something during rainy, autumn evenings. I quickly acquired a great skill in it and soon I was able to apparate in any place in Britain.
In those times the skill turned out to be especially useful. Once I liked to move through London by the Muggle communication, but now the sight of the ruins that the German blitzes turned into the whole quarters of the capital was too depressing for me. Like most of the witches and wizards, I kept away from the Muggle war. I thought that slaughter and destruction, committing day by day in the name of strange and obscure ideas, was only and solely Muggles' business.
*
On July the 20th, in the evening, I was mooning about the Diagon Alley, casting a bored glance at the window-dressings. A year ago I couldn't take my eyes off them, but now I knew them nearly by heart. Neither Diagon Alley, nor even the Ministerial Library could give me any new attractions, so I was bored more and more and I've been waiting for the letter from my friend Amis more and more impatiently. Every summer I spent two weeks of August at his home.
I passed by a white facade of the Grigotts Bank and turned to the narrow street that was winding down and fading out of sight in the growing darkness. Knockturn Alley was one of my favourite places in the whole wizarding district. In dozens of small shops, squeezed one by one on both sides of the twisting lane, one could find everything, all sorts and kinds of the magical articles from all over the world. There were Arabic flying carpets, Alladin's lamps from Persia (commonly considered to be tricky and even dangerous because of a malicious and unpredictable temper of the gins), Greek Pandora Boxes, India Mantras of the Fate, tzolkins from Central America (*) and many, many others.
Crowds of foreign witches and wizards were bustling about the Knockturn Alley. I saw the dark-skin, tattooed shamans from Jamaica, the Tibetans in their traditional, purple-yellow dress (Muggle think that they are monks' frocks), Arabic merchants wearing long cloaks and leading the caravans of the loaded gibbars (those animals are similar to the camels but they can hover over the ground by means of the small but strong wings, sprouted from their fetlocks). I met Mexican brujos in colourful ponchos, which had such an interesting property that, depending on the situation, they can play the role of either a quite powerful anti-course shield or an Invisibility Cloak. All habitual guests of the Knockturn Alley (and I was one of them) knew where to look for the agents of the Chinese triads, being engaged in smuggling of the forbidden dragon organs, who apply to with an order for a hydra venom (accessibility of that extremely powerful poison was strictly limited by the Ministry of Magic), finally who bribe to speed up the progress of the official matters. No wonder then, that Knockturn Alley was the most crowded and noisy street of the district. It often became a scene of the passionate rows with the use of magic, chiefly when the 'businessmen' weren't able to fix the price satisfying both sides.
But now the narrow path was almost completely empty, besides a few shady figures, crouching under the walls of the shops and not showing the slightest signs of life (in reality their minds were wandering in the land of dreams and fantasies, caused by an excessive consumption of tequila, famous Mexican Happiness Potion). It doesn't mean, however, that nothing happens at the Knockturn Alley in the evening. On the contrary. After the dusk the whole life moved under the roof of the famous (and pretending to be cosmopolitan) inn, of a much telling name "Globetrotter". It was here where, over a mug of an excellent beer Mediator, the most lucrative deals were transacted and where the information, qualified as a "top secret" by the ministries of many countries, were the most easily received.
Draque, the owner of the place, a tall dark-haired man of a vampire appearance, whose real name nobody knew, came from Transilvania and some of the habitual guests of the inn claimed that in one of the deepest cellars he stored some large jugs, filled with a dark-red liquid that surely wasn't a wine. But even if there was a seed of truth in those stories, no one really cared about that. Draque could secure maximal discretion for his clients and with very good results (though in a way only he knew) he diverted interests of the ministry from the "Globetrotter".
I pushed the door of the inn and walked down three wide, stone steps into the great hall. Its centre was lit by two rows of the lanterns, levitating under the ceiling, but the tables near the walls have been left in semi-darkness, conductive to the shady business. I was surrounded by the murmur of voices and I caught among them some fragments of conversations in Spanish, Chinese, Arabic and in a strange, melodious language I had never heard before.
Intrigued, I turned my head in the direction of the voices. At the table up-room two young people were sitting, lost in a vivid discussion. Though, in fact, it wasn't a discussion but rather a monologue, said by the most amazing girl I have ever seen. She had tawny skin, dark, almond-shaped eyes, gleaming mysteriously in the light of the lanterns, and long, sleek, black hair, bound into a tight bun on her neck. She couldn't be more than twenty. Her original, Asian beauty, emphasised by a silk blood-red sari, tied with a golden sash, drew the eyes of most men in the inn. But she seemed to be unaware of it and was still explaining something to her companion.
I realised I was standing in the middle of the wide passage between the tables, effectively hindering the work of five vigorous goblins, carrying on the huge trays high mugs of golden Mediator. Urged on by their cross growls I was just about to move towards my usual place next to the counter, when the black-haired girl rose her head and fixed piercing eyes on me. It was so unexpected that I felt like a school kid, caught in the act red-handed. I felt my mouths dried, my heart stated to thump madly and I realised with horror that I had flushed up to my ears. Some people observing that scene began to laugh.
I felt a fool and I would teleport myself to the farthest end of Diagon Alley with pleasure. And the girl still didn't take her hypnotising eyes off me. Her friend was still turning his back on me but I couldn't resist a strange impression that he knew perfectly well what was going on behind him and that he was waiting for the progress of events.
Five terribly long seconds passed and during that time the dark eyes seemed to pierce me right through. But suddenly the girl looked away and stared at the boy who leant towards her and said something silently. A disbelief appeared on her tawny face but when the boy whispered sharply, she nodded and did something I completely didn't expect at that moment: she beckoned me, inviting to their table.
I must have looked very blank for the girl laughed in a brief, vibrating laugher.
'Tom, don't be reluctant, come to us,' she said in excellent English with a slight irony.
She had a deep, melodious voice that immediately absorbed the attention of every hearer. At the same time it awakened a strange longing deep in the heart and an irrepressible desire to do whatever the voice commanded.
I don't know how I found myself at the table of the mysterious couple. The girl was watching me with a faint smile but I couldn't resist the feeling that it was not meant for me; it looked rather like a smile of satisfaction.
'Hello, Tom,' she said and I realised only now that she knew my name; she must have noticed surprise in my eyes since she nodded with a sigh. 'You don't remember me ... But could I expect anything else? When I finished Hogwart you were only in the second class.'
Now for a change I looked at her searchingly but her face didn't rouse any memories.
'I'm sorry,' I said in a tone of excuse 'But really...'
'Don't worry !' the girl waved carelessly her hand and smiled, this time with an explicit liking. 'I wouldn't have noticed and second-year either if he hadn't been so talented as you had. Yes,' she added 'Tom Riddle was more extraordinary than he thought.'
'And than he still thinks,' said somebody close by in a hoarse whisper.
I turned round surprised. I had completely forgotten about the girl's companion. Only now I could see his face in the full light oft he lanterns and...at the first moment I nearly screamed. I was looking straight into two blind eyes, devoid of the iris and pupils. Unnaturally light whites made his slender, oval face look weirdly and a bit in ghastly fashion.
'This is Teresiah,' explained the girl.
'Nice...nice to meet you,' I stammered out, trying not to look in the white eye-sockets.
A scoffing smile appeared on Teresiah's lips as if he knew perfectly well the impression his face had made on me.
'My name is Ramana,' the girl finished introduction 'All right, if the official part is over, we can pass on to the merits.'
'To the merits?' I repeated uncertainly.
I had no idea what the strange couple could want with me.
'We've been looking for you to convey you an offer,' Teresiah sort of read in my mind 'Our Preceptor wishes to know you and convince himself personally if it is really true what they say about you. He is a great wizard and it's a honour to be one of his followers.'
For a while I was sitting speechless, thinking about what I had just heard. And as the sense of those words was reaching my mind, a well-know desire of knowledge and new challenges flared up in my heart.
'What does your Preceptor teach?' I asked, devoured by curiosity.
'It's a real magic!' whispered Ramana passionately and her black eyes shone 'Not that funny hocus-pocus they teach in Hogwart. The power of Preceptor is unimaginable. Only there I understood how beautiful and subtle science the magic is! How much creative! And fascinating!'
An expression of a deep rapture appeared on her face. She looked gloriously and I was staring at her enchanted, forgetting for w while about the wealth of knowledge that was expecting me in the Preceptor's abode. To tell the truth, I have forgotten about the whole world...
Suddenly Ramana screamed, I could hear a sound of a slap, than a cry of pain mingled with a swear and a red-haired, drunken wizard fell on the floor next to our table, holding his bleeding nose with both his hands.
'YOU BASTARD !!!' Ramana's voice, icy and full of hatred, was no longer soft and melodious; now it cut like w whip. 'You bloody bastard! How dared you touch me with your filthy hands !!!'
The wizard mumbled something and tried to get up, but Ramana kicked him hardly in his crotch. Her black eyes, now contracted into the narrow slits, glinted ominously, an icy hiss proceeded through her clenched teeth and the hand reached for the wand.
'Ramana, stop it!' said sharply Teresiah and once more I asked myself a question how the blind man could 'see' everything so well.
The girl came to a standstill with a risen hand. She was breathing heavily for a while, then she slowly put her wand away, spat at the lying man and turned her back to him.
'I think it's time to go,' said Teresiah making a sign to the goblin that he wanted to pay.
The goblin reached to the pocket of his broad velveteens and pulled out a piece of a white parchment, which afterwards put on a black plate, standing on the table. Before five seconds passed, black numbers appeared on the paper. Teresiah reached for his purse, threw a counted sum on the plate and gave one galeon to the goblin, which was staring at him with the open mouth, obviously wondering how the blinded man had know how much to pay.
Meanwhile the beaten drunkard stood unsteadily on his feet, looked around with a blood-shot eyes and suddenly he spotted Ramana's red sari.
'You bitch !' he howled madly, staggering towards her.
A white ray shot from the girl's wand and threw the wizard on the neighbouring table. If the previous row didn't excite much interest, now more and more spectators started to gather around. Ramana slowly approached the drunkard, her eyes were cold and ruthless.
'Leave him!' shouted Teresiah imperatively but this time it didn't have any effect.
'He offended me,' said Ramana with a dreadful calm 'and I will not tolerate this. Somebody who says such things about the woman should eat his own tongue.'
Her voice turned into a strange, vibrating whisper, which seemed not to proceed from her mouth but sounded in the mind of every hearer. Restless eyes of the red-haired wizard came to a halt, fixed on Ramana's lips. And slowly, as if obeying someone's order, the man began to move his jaws steadily, biting and chewing something...
A deadly silence has fallen.
'Let's get out of here.' commanded Teresiah 'As far as I'm concern, you can teleport yourself ?' he neither asked nor state, turning his white eye-sockets at me.
*
'Are you mad!?' growled Teresiah when Ramana apparated next to us 'Doing such a thing when the whole inn was looking at!'
We were standing at a vast glade, shone by a pale moonlight. Cold wind was jerking madly tops of a few solitary spruces. All around high, steep mountains were looming, their black contours silhouetted against the dark-blue sky. And right in front of us, crouched on a precipitous slope, a huge castle rose into air with three high towers.
'You're right, I exaggerated,' muttered Ramana, scowling at Teresiah 'But that was him who began. He deserved...'
I remembered the face of the man who was calmly eating his own tongue. I turned round rapidly and vomited.
As if they had only now realised my presence, young wizards dropped their dispute and moved closer.
'All right?' asked Teresiah with a tone of anxiety.
I nodded, furious at myself that I behaved like a raw lad. Ramana stopped next to me and gently took my face into her hands.
'I'm sorry, Tom,' she whispered in a repentant voice, which now sounded soothingly and softly. 'I know, it was horrible. You must have seen for the first time something so hideous.' black eyes were looking at my face with a deep-felt grief 'Will you forgive me?'
I cast down my eyes. Once more I saw the scene in the inn and I quivered at the memory of a wild hatred that had contorted Ramana's subtle face. Could anyone lose oneself in rage so much? Could all barriers fall down and turned a thinking being into a murderous beast? How could anyone do such a thing to the other human?!
And than I though about Perseus Potter...
I slowly rose my head and looked into Ramana's eyes.
'I understand you,' I said quietly 'You don't know how much I do...'
A gentle smile lightened up her face.
'Thank you, Tom,' she whispered.
'I would like to know, how did you do that,' I couldn't suppress curiosity 'It was a kind of magic, wasn't it?'
'Ramana is a Voximper,' explained Teresiah 'She could control another's person mind by means of her voice. A man, exposed to the action of the voice-order, will obey any command.'
'I owe everything to the Preceptor,' added Ramana proudly 'He specialises in the magic of mind.'
Suddenly a silent 'pop' sounded and several steps further a man materialised, wrapped in a long, black cloak.
'The prodigal daughter!' he exclaimed with a theatrical exaltation 'News are spreading fast. Pretty well...'
'Shut up, Chuckle!' hissed Ramana and I would swear she used a voice-order.
The new-comer became silent and for a while his blue eyes assumed a vacant, glazy expression. He shuddered, threw off his hood and approached me with a smile on his fool-moon face.
'Tom Riddle ! Finally I can meet you !' he called, shaking my hand 'I'm very glad. I've heard a lot about you. The Preceptor...'
'It's not time for the chats, Chuckle,' Teresiah broke the deluge of words 'They are waiting for us.'
Chuckle looked offended.
'Why yes,' he assented coldly 'The Preceptor has sent me for you.' and turning to me he added 'That growler Teresiah hasn't manners at all. I didn't even introduce myself, did I? My name is Nero. Nero Satanini.'
'More commonly known as Chuckle,' mutterer Ramana.
Nero gave her a scowl but left this remark without any comment.
'Well then, if savoir vivre has been fulfilled, we can go,' said dryly Teresiah and disapparated.
'Off we go!' exclaimed Nero enthusiastically 'Welcome in the Schwarzberg castle, Tom !'
(*) tzolkin - holy calendar of Maya; here used as a name of the magical object.
Teresiah - I'm not sure if it should be written like that in English, but he was a wise man in the ancient Greece. Athena made him blind but instead gave him a deep knowledge and a power of seeing the future.
I finished the school-year with a spectacular success, passing perfectly all the OWL exams and moreover receiving the special awards from Transfiguration and Potions. Together with a glory of a hero that surrounded me from the night I had caught Hagrid, it made me feel as the most proud and happy man in the world.
I was not going back to the orphanage. I took a room in the hotel "Morpheus Bed", which I was always very attached to since I had spent my first night in the magical world there. I didn't have to bother about money. A special prize, which I was awarded by the headmaster Dippet for the "eminent services" and amounting to 1000 galeons, could ensure a rich life on the Diagon Alley not only by two months of the holidays, but for the whole year.
First weeks of July I spent on improving the art of teleportation. I learned it at the beginning of the fifth class, just to something during rainy, autumn evenings. I quickly acquired a great skill in it and soon I was able to apparate in any place in Britain.
In those times the skill turned out to be especially useful. Once I liked to move through London by the Muggle communication, but now the sight of the ruins that the German blitzes turned into the whole quarters of the capital was too depressing for me. Like most of the witches and wizards, I kept away from the Muggle war. I thought that slaughter and destruction, committing day by day in the name of strange and obscure ideas, was only and solely Muggles' business.
I passed by a white facade of the Grigotts Bank and turned to the narrow street that was winding down and fading out of sight in the growing darkness. Knockturn Alley was one of my favourite places in the whole wizarding district. In dozens of small shops, squeezed one by one on both sides of the twisting lane, one could find everything, all sorts and kinds of the magical articles from all over the world. There were Arabic flying carpets, Alladin's lamps from Persia (commonly considered to be tricky and even dangerous because of a malicious and unpredictable temper of the gins), Greek Pandora Boxes, India Mantras of the Fate, tzolkins from Central America (*) and many, many others.
Crowds of foreign witches and wizards were bustling about the Knockturn Alley. I saw the dark-skin, tattooed shamans from Jamaica, the Tibetans in their traditional, purple-yellow dress (Muggle think that they are monks' frocks), Arabic merchants wearing long cloaks and leading the caravans of the loaded gibbars (those animals are similar to the camels but they can hover over the ground by means of the small but strong wings, sprouted from their fetlocks). I met Mexican brujos in colourful ponchos, which had such an interesting property that, depending on the situation, they can play the role of either a quite powerful anti-course shield or an Invisibility Cloak. All habitual guests of the Knockturn Alley (and I was one of them) knew where to look for the agents of the Chinese triads, being engaged in smuggling of the forbidden dragon organs, who apply to with an order for a hydra venom (accessibility of that extremely powerful poison was strictly limited by the Ministry of Magic), finally who bribe to speed up the progress of the official matters. No wonder then, that Knockturn Alley was the most crowded and noisy street of the district. It often became a scene of the passionate rows with the use of magic, chiefly when the 'businessmen' weren't able to fix the price satisfying both sides.
But now the narrow path was almost completely empty, besides a few shady figures, crouching under the walls of the shops and not showing the slightest signs of life (in reality their minds were wandering in the land of dreams and fantasies, caused by an excessive consumption of tequila, famous Mexican Happiness Potion). It doesn't mean, however, that nothing happens at the Knockturn Alley in the evening. On the contrary. After the dusk the whole life moved under the roof of the famous (and pretending to be cosmopolitan) inn, of a much telling name "Globetrotter". It was here where, over a mug of an excellent beer Mediator, the most lucrative deals were transacted and where the information, qualified as a "top secret" by the ministries of many countries, were the most easily received.
Draque, the owner of the place, a tall dark-haired man of a vampire appearance, whose real name nobody knew, came from Transilvania and some of the habitual guests of the inn claimed that in one of the deepest cellars he stored some large jugs, filled with a dark-red liquid that surely wasn't a wine. But even if there was a seed of truth in those stories, no one really cared about that. Draque could secure maximal discretion for his clients and with very good results (though in a way only he knew) he diverted interests of the ministry from the "Globetrotter".
I pushed the door of the inn and walked down three wide, stone steps into the great hall. Its centre was lit by two rows of the lanterns, levitating under the ceiling, but the tables near the walls have been left in semi-darkness, conductive to the shady business. I was surrounded by the murmur of voices and I caught among them some fragments of conversations in Spanish, Chinese, Arabic and in a strange, melodious language I had never heard before.
Intrigued, I turned my head in the direction of the voices. At the table up-room two young people were sitting, lost in a vivid discussion. Though, in fact, it wasn't a discussion but rather a monologue, said by the most amazing girl I have ever seen. She had tawny skin, dark, almond-shaped eyes, gleaming mysteriously in the light of the lanterns, and long, sleek, black hair, bound into a tight bun on her neck. She couldn't be more than twenty. Her original, Asian beauty, emphasised by a silk blood-red sari, tied with a golden sash, drew the eyes of most men in the inn. But she seemed to be unaware of it and was still explaining something to her companion.
I realised I was standing in the middle of the wide passage between the tables, effectively hindering the work of five vigorous goblins, carrying on the huge trays high mugs of golden Mediator. Urged on by their cross growls I was just about to move towards my usual place next to the counter, when the black-haired girl rose her head and fixed piercing eyes on me. It was so unexpected that I felt like a school kid, caught in the act red-handed. I felt my mouths dried, my heart stated to thump madly and I realised with horror that I had flushed up to my ears. Some people observing that scene began to laugh.
I felt a fool and I would teleport myself to the farthest end of Diagon Alley with pleasure. And the girl still didn't take her hypnotising eyes off me. Her friend was still turning his back on me but I couldn't resist a strange impression that he knew perfectly well what was going on behind him and that he was waiting for the progress of events.
Five terribly long seconds passed and during that time the dark eyes seemed to pierce me right through. But suddenly the girl looked away and stared at the boy who leant towards her and said something silently. A disbelief appeared on her tawny face but when the boy whispered sharply, she nodded and did something I completely didn't expect at that moment: she beckoned me, inviting to their table.
I must have looked very blank for the girl laughed in a brief, vibrating laugher.
'Tom, don't be reluctant, come to us,' she said in excellent English with a slight irony.
She had a deep, melodious voice that immediately absorbed the attention of every hearer. At the same time it awakened a strange longing deep in the heart and an irrepressible desire to do whatever the voice commanded.
I don't know how I found myself at the table of the mysterious couple. The girl was watching me with a faint smile but I couldn't resist the feeling that it was not meant for me; it looked rather like a smile of satisfaction.
'Hello, Tom,' she said and I realised only now that she knew my name; she must have noticed surprise in my eyes since she nodded with a sigh. 'You don't remember me ... But could I expect anything else? When I finished Hogwart you were only in the second class.'
Now for a change I looked at her searchingly but her face didn't rouse any memories.
'I'm sorry,' I said in a tone of excuse 'But really...'
'Don't worry !' the girl waved carelessly her hand and smiled, this time with an explicit liking. 'I wouldn't have noticed and second-year either if he hadn't been so talented as you had. Yes,' she added 'Tom Riddle was more extraordinary than he thought.'
'And than he still thinks,' said somebody close by in a hoarse whisper.
I turned round surprised. I had completely forgotten about the girl's companion. Only now I could see his face in the full light oft he lanterns and...at the first moment I nearly screamed. I was looking straight into two blind eyes, devoid of the iris and pupils. Unnaturally light whites made his slender, oval face look weirdly and a bit in ghastly fashion.
'This is Teresiah,' explained the girl.
'Nice...nice to meet you,' I stammered out, trying not to look in the white eye-sockets.
A scoffing smile appeared on Teresiah's lips as if he knew perfectly well the impression his face had made on me.
'My name is Ramana,' the girl finished introduction 'All right, if the official part is over, we can pass on to the merits.'
'To the merits?' I repeated uncertainly.
I had no idea what the strange couple could want with me.
'We've been looking for you to convey you an offer,' Teresiah sort of read in my mind 'Our Preceptor wishes to know you and convince himself personally if it is really true what they say about you. He is a great wizard and it's a honour to be one of his followers.'
For a while I was sitting speechless, thinking about what I had just heard. And as the sense of those words was reaching my mind, a well-know desire of knowledge and new challenges flared up in my heart.
'What does your Preceptor teach?' I asked, devoured by curiosity.
'It's a real magic!' whispered Ramana passionately and her black eyes shone 'Not that funny hocus-pocus they teach in Hogwart. The power of Preceptor is unimaginable. Only there I understood how beautiful and subtle science the magic is! How much creative! And fascinating!'
An expression of a deep rapture appeared on her face. She looked gloriously and I was staring at her enchanted, forgetting for w while about the wealth of knowledge that was expecting me in the Preceptor's abode. To tell the truth, I have forgotten about the whole world...
Suddenly Ramana screamed, I could hear a sound of a slap, than a cry of pain mingled with a swear and a red-haired, drunken wizard fell on the floor next to our table, holding his bleeding nose with both his hands.
'YOU BASTARD !!!' Ramana's voice, icy and full of hatred, was no longer soft and melodious; now it cut like w whip. 'You bloody bastard! How dared you touch me with your filthy hands !!!'
The wizard mumbled something and tried to get up, but Ramana kicked him hardly in his crotch. Her black eyes, now contracted into the narrow slits, glinted ominously, an icy hiss proceeded through her clenched teeth and the hand reached for the wand.
'Ramana, stop it!' said sharply Teresiah and once more I asked myself a question how the blind man could 'see' everything so well.
The girl came to a standstill with a risen hand. She was breathing heavily for a while, then she slowly put her wand away, spat at the lying man and turned her back to him.
'I think it's time to go,' said Teresiah making a sign to the goblin that he wanted to pay.
The goblin reached to the pocket of his broad velveteens and pulled out a piece of a white parchment, which afterwards put on a black plate, standing on the table. Before five seconds passed, black numbers appeared on the paper. Teresiah reached for his purse, threw a counted sum on the plate and gave one galeon to the goblin, which was staring at him with the open mouth, obviously wondering how the blinded man had know how much to pay.
Meanwhile the beaten drunkard stood unsteadily on his feet, looked around with a blood-shot eyes and suddenly he spotted Ramana's red sari.
'You bitch !' he howled madly, staggering towards her.
A white ray shot from the girl's wand and threw the wizard on the neighbouring table. If the previous row didn't excite much interest, now more and more spectators started to gather around. Ramana slowly approached the drunkard, her eyes were cold and ruthless.
'Leave him!' shouted Teresiah imperatively but this time it didn't have any effect.
'He offended me,' said Ramana with a dreadful calm 'and I will not tolerate this. Somebody who says such things about the woman should eat his own tongue.'
Her voice turned into a strange, vibrating whisper, which seemed not to proceed from her mouth but sounded in the mind of every hearer. Restless eyes of the red-haired wizard came to a halt, fixed on Ramana's lips. And slowly, as if obeying someone's order, the man began to move his jaws steadily, biting and chewing something...
A deadly silence has fallen.
'Let's get out of here.' commanded Teresiah 'As far as I'm concern, you can teleport yourself ?' he neither asked nor state, turning his white eye-sockets at me.
We were standing at a vast glade, shone by a pale moonlight. Cold wind was jerking madly tops of a few solitary spruces. All around high, steep mountains were looming, their black contours silhouetted against the dark-blue sky. And right in front of us, crouched on a precipitous slope, a huge castle rose into air with three high towers.
'You're right, I exaggerated,' muttered Ramana, scowling at Teresiah 'But that was him who began. He deserved...'
I remembered the face of the man who was calmly eating his own tongue. I turned round rapidly and vomited.
As if they had only now realised my presence, young wizards dropped their dispute and moved closer.
'All right?' asked Teresiah with a tone of anxiety.
I nodded, furious at myself that I behaved like a raw lad. Ramana stopped next to me and gently took my face into her hands.
'I'm sorry, Tom,' she whispered in a repentant voice, which now sounded soothingly and softly. 'I know, it was horrible. You must have seen for the first time something so hideous.' black eyes were looking at my face with a deep-felt grief 'Will you forgive me?'
I cast down my eyes. Once more I saw the scene in the inn and I quivered at the memory of a wild hatred that had contorted Ramana's subtle face. Could anyone lose oneself in rage so much? Could all barriers fall down and turned a thinking being into a murderous beast? How could anyone do such a thing to the other human?!
And than I though about Perseus Potter...
I slowly rose my head and looked into Ramana's eyes.
'I understand you,' I said quietly 'You don't know how much I do...'
A gentle smile lightened up her face.
'Thank you, Tom,' she whispered.
'I would like to know, how did you do that,' I couldn't suppress curiosity 'It was a kind of magic, wasn't it?'
'Ramana is a Voximper,' explained Teresiah 'She could control another's person mind by means of her voice. A man, exposed to the action of the voice-order, will obey any command.'
'I owe everything to the Preceptor,' added Ramana proudly 'He specialises in the magic of mind.'
Suddenly a silent 'pop' sounded and several steps further a man materialised, wrapped in a long, black cloak.
'The prodigal daughter!' he exclaimed with a theatrical exaltation 'News are spreading fast. Pretty well...'
'Shut up, Chuckle!' hissed Ramana and I would swear she used a voice-order.
The new-comer became silent and for a while his blue eyes assumed a vacant, glazy expression. He shuddered, threw off his hood and approached me with a smile on his fool-moon face.
'Tom Riddle ! Finally I can meet you !' he called, shaking my hand 'I'm very glad. I've heard a lot about you. The Preceptor...'
'It's not time for the chats, Chuckle,' Teresiah broke the deluge of words 'They are waiting for us.'
Chuckle looked offended.
'Why yes,' he assented coldly 'The Preceptor has sent me for you.' and turning to me he added 'That growler Teresiah hasn't manners at all. I didn't even introduce myself, did I? My name is Nero. Nero Satanini.'
'More commonly known as Chuckle,' mutterer Ramana.
Nero gave her a scowl but left this remark without any comment.
'Well then, if savoir vivre has been fulfilled, we can go,' said dryly Teresiah and disapparated.
'Off we go!' exclaimed Nero enthusiastically 'Welcome in the Schwarzberg castle, Tom !'
(*) tzolkin - holy calendar of Maya; here used as a name of the magical object.
Teresiah - I'm not sure if it should be written like that in English, but he was a wise man in the ancient Greece. Athena made him blind but instead gave him a deep knowledge and a power of seeing the future.