The last chapter before Christams. Tom enters the dark path. Then faces Dumbledore.
The history of Lord Voldemort name is (partly) revealed.
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOU !
6. The Dark Arts
Occlumency is a difficult art. It needs patience, discipline and iron character. Closing the mind against the infiltration of the other wizard is like fighting off the attacks of a powerful and cunning enemy. A single blockade is not enough to stop a well-trained foe. As the walls of the most powerful fortress will fall, sooner or later, under pressure of a countless army, so will any barrier protecting the mind. Therefore one has to raise new blockades and fortifications all the time, to delude and deceive the enemy. The structure of the mind cannot be fixed but must remain in a continuous motion. Only then the victory can be gained.
The beginning wasn't easy but the hatred infused me with the new strengths. I had a distinct aim in front of me and during the long hours of the training I have never forgotten who was my enemy and who was waiting for me at the end of the dark path I had stepped on. I think that were it not for Albus Dumbledore, whose face, twisted in sneering, patronizing smile haunted me every night, I wouldn't achieve mastery of Occlumency as quickly it surprised even the Preceptor himself.
It was him who, two hours a day, taught me everything I should know about the human mind, to take control of it on day and become its master - a real Mentor. But most of time I spent with Teresiah. Now, after a month of difficult and strenuous training that consisted in mutual attempts to break into each other's mind, I have already understood why that blinded man could overcome his infirmity so perfectly. Teresiah, who read in mind so easily as if it was a child's play, see the world with other people's eyes. And, as he tried to convince me, such a way of perception was much more useful since it allowed him to see everything from different perspectives.
I couldn't deny it but I still considered Teresiah's blindness to be injustice and many times I wanted to ask, whether there weren't any magical ways of restoring his eyesight. I always restrained myself from doing it since I didn't want to hurt him, but the longer I knew him, the more evident it became that Teresiah not only resigned himself to his fate but also was proud of it.
'It's a real gift!' he used to say with a conviction that always filled me with a vague anxiety 'You are looking at the world and it seems to you that you recognised its real face. You can see the chair and the table,' he pointed at the furniture made of a dark wood, the only outfit of his Spartan room beside a narrow bed. 'But can you be sure that they really exist? What if they are just an illusion ? What if somebody deludes your senses, showing you the pictures that are not real beings and makes you believe they are true? What then, Tom? Aren't you like a blind man yourself?'
I was silent, looking anxiously around as if I was afraid that the common decoration of the room would disappear in a moment, giving way to something I even didn't expect to exist. And though the table was still a table, I knew that there was a deep wisdom in Teresiah's words. I have already discovered the power of the Illusion.
Nero turned out to be a specialist in this field. Before a week passed since the day of our first meeting, he managed to demonstrate me a whole range of his skills, beginning with the old trick with illusory door in a very solid wall, and ending on changing of the castle dinning-room into a forest glade. It was a rare experience. I one moment I found myself among the high, soughing pine-trees, I felt a gentle breeze on my face and warm beams of the setting sun. I breathed in the clear air, full of scent of the wild mint and camomile. But when I bent down to cull a snow-white flower, everything disappeared and I was again in the high, stone hall, looking in amazement at the fork lying on the floor.
'That is Illusion!' exclaimed Nero enthusiastically, patting me friendly on the back.
'This is also the magic of mind,' explained Teresiah 'The Illusionist doesn't create false pictures or sounds, but affects our senses so that they give us false information. He uses man's own perfection against him. And that is the reason why my blindness is a gift,' he said cheerfully 'Only in silence is a word, only in darkness is a light'(*) he sang softly 'The one who wants to see the light of the truth, must lose oneself in the darkness. I'm void of the eyesight and that is why the optical Illusion doesn't affect me. I see the world as it really is.'
It always impressed me very much how naturally he used the world "see". Though I could only guess what Teresiah's world looked like, I understood he would never exchanged it for the other one. It was difficult to believe but his infirmity made him really happy.
'Don't trust your senses, Tom', he used to tell me 'It's too easy to cheat them.'
*
The hot August was coming to an end. In two days time I was supposed to go back to Hogwart and to face the man I hated so much. If I only could vent my anger, shout out right to his face everything I told to his phantom when it stood in front of me during humid, sleepless nights. If I only could punish him, with a single wave of my wand, for everything I had suffered ! I could do it. I have learnt a lot during those six weeks in the Schwarzberg castle. The magic of mind is not only reading in minds and illusion. I saw with my own eyes what Ramana's voice could do. And that was only a small sample of what a trained Mentor could achieve. I have never expected there were so many curses causing pain and suffering. And not only the physical one.
'Gaining control over the human's mind gives you an absolute power.' said the Preceptor after demonstrating me the Cruciatus curse for the first time 'You must be aware that it is within your power both to alleviate and cause the pain. You can make somebody suffers. You can also take control over his feelings. Fear, despair, feeling of hopelessness and loneliness ... No one will bear it.'
'But I don't want to hurt anybody!' I exclaimed, thrilled 'I don't want anybody suffer through me...' I hesitated '...except him.'
The Preceptor's face remained inscrutable and only deep in his dark eyes something strange twinkled for a moment; like cold, grim laugher.
'I'm not teaching you those curses for you run along the Diagon Alley and cast them at anybody you met.' he said dryly 'But every stick has two ends and you mustn't forget about it. You have to be able to protect yourself against those who don't have such scruples and don't demur at using the magic for their own purposes. Against people like Albus Dumbledore. And to defeat him, you must know his weapon.'
'Is it the Dark Arts?' I asked quietly.
The wizard looked at me piercingly.
'If you say "dark", do you mean "evil"?' he asked gently and I nodded 'Magic is never evil, only the men who used it are. Any power could be used both in just and unjust cause. But in itself is neither good nor evil. Is much older than mankind.' he sighed 'Did you hear the story of Louis Saver? He lived in France in the last century. He saved fifteen Muggle children using the magic commonly believed to be exceptionally dangerous, exceptionally "dark"...' Preceptor's thin mouth twisted in ironic smile 'Three years later he died, burned into ash with a simple Lighting Spell, cast by an old, half-blinded witch who didn't see him in a dim alley.'
The silence fell. Preceptor was standing motionless, lost in thoughts; red glow of the setting sun reflected in his black, fathomless eyes. I was staring at that face, proud and noble but marked with years and concerns. And I realised why Ramana, Teresiah and Nero always talked about him with such an esteem and devotion. I also would do everything for him.
'Master!' I said fervently 'I don't want to go back to Hogwart. Let me stay here. I will not learn anymore there, but with you...'
'No, Tom,' said quietly Preceptor, putting hand on my shoulder 'The time has not come yet.'
*
The Great Hall was filled with a yellow light. The students, all dressed in black robes and pointed hats, were sitting at four long tables and were waiting impatiently for the beginning of the Welcome Feast. Headmaster Dippet was looking at them with a kind-hearted smile on his old, weary face. He rose his hand and the murmur of voices died away like a rumble of a receding storm.
'Welcome, my dears,' said the wizard 'We begin the next year of learning. For some of you it's going to be the very first step on the paths of knowledge.' he looked encouragingly at the group of frightened first-years gathered next to the teachers' table. 'For the others it is a crowning of seven years' labours and struggles. Time goes by. Something ends, something begins. For more than twenty five years I've been holding a honourable office of the Headmaster of one of the best schools of magic. It's time to give way to the younger ones.'
A silence fell, so deep that one could hear the howling of the wind outside the castle windows. To judge by the teachers' faces, they were also very surprised.
'Yes, my dears,' smiled Dippet 'Since today Hogwart has a new Headmaster. I have no doubt I entrust the school with the most worthy. You know him well. I present you...' he pointed at the man who was sitting on his right-hand side '...Headmaster Albus Dumbledore !'
'WHAT ?!' I shrieked springing to my feet.
I couldn't believe my own ears. Was it a joke? Dumbledore the Headmaster of Hogwart? That envious, mean man whose all live was based on the lies? Who wouldn't stop at anything to realise his pathological ambitions? What a nonsense!
'Mister Riddle?' Dippet sounded surprised with my sudden exclamation 'Do you have any remark?'
Did I have? For weeks I've been thinking of nothing else but of shouting out the truth about Albus Dumbledore. I wanted all those wizards who admired and esteemed him to see his real face. I wanted to crush what he valued most of all - his fame and his good name - and I wanted to do it right here and right now...
'The time has not come yet!' Preceptor's words rang in my mind loudly and clearly. I looked at Dippet.
'What a great news!' I said trying to make my voice sounding a little bit more enthusiastic.
The old wizard nodded with content and returned to his talk, speaking highly of virtues of the new Headmaster. Dumbledore, instead, was looking at me thoughtfully. He was not the man who could be put off with any bland words. He felt I wanted to say something completely different than I finally did. And it made him anxious.
I knew what was going to happen in a moment; the first test of the knowledge the Preceptor had taught me was approaching. But I was prepared for that I looked defiantly into the blue eyes. For a few seconds nothing has happened but suddenly I felt that Dumbledore started to search my mind. Slowly, carefully, not taking his eyes off my face, he began to look through the structure of my memory. And I let him do it. What Dumbledore was exploring was rubbish, a dummy constructed by the Preceptor to that very end. My real memory was save but Dumbledore shouldn't realise at all that somebody else had manipulated in my mind.
I knew it was a risky game. Dumbledore was a good Mentor and in encounter with him my skill could turn out insufficient. Therefore I was following his every step, ready to throw him out of my mind in any moment.
I don't know how long it lasted. Time loses its meaning when you travel through the depths of the mind. But finally Dumbledore sighed, once more looked at me piercingly and turned to Dippet who has just asked him to make a short inaugural speech.
I took a deep breath - I won the first battle.
*
Days and weeks were passing, similar to each other and routine. Hogwart has never seemed to me so dull and gloomy. I felt like in a cage. During the lessons I was bored to death and soon I lost interest even in searching the minds of my classmates. Besides, what fun could I find there if their problems limited to the question who was going to win the next Quidditch match and how much homework we would get. For some length of time I've been following the ups and downs of the emotional life of Artemis Fairy and Lucas Young, but when they broke up in November I lost the last source of amusement.
I missed serious Teresiah, cheerful Nero, charming Ramana. I remembered the long, summer evenings we used to pass on a large terrace of the western tower, chatting light-heartedly, casting carelessly the spells that most of my classmates didn't even expect to exist and enjoying every minute in the Preceptor's castle.
And now I was stuck in Hogwart, separated from my Master and my friends, separated from the knowledge I desired. Moreover, every day I had to face the man I hated so much. And though I tried to conceal my feelings under the veil of politeness and forced respect, Dumbledore noticed that my attitude towards him had changed completely.
The last week of January, after Transfiguration lesson (though he became a Headmaster he didn't abandoned his lectures), he asked me for a short talk.
'Tom, is everything all right?' he asked gently 'I have the impression that something rankles you. Sometimes you seem so...distant.'
He looked at me searchingly and I have already prepared myself to force back the attack on my mind but to my great surprised he didn't try to. He was just observing me attentively and with a concern.
'I know you miss Amis,' he began carefully, as if he was trying one of the possibilities 'but you understand that the scholarship in Salem was a great chance for him.'
I hardly restrained myself form spitting on his face. The scholarship - so he called it ! How could he lie to me so cynically!
'If something annoys you, ' continued Dumbledore not taking his piercing eyes off me 'you can always tell me about it,'
I smiled ironically and looked straight into his eyes.
'Of course, Headmaster.' I said.
*
When I crossed a threshold of the Schwarzberg castle I felt I came back home.
'Tom, finally!' called Ramana running up to me and kissing my cheek 'We missed you !'
'So do I,' I replied, shaking hands with Teresiah and Nero.
'You acquitted yourself perfectly well,' said the Preceptor when I sat in front of him in his office 'But I was sure you wouldn't disappoint me.'
Golden beams of the June sun were falling on the table, covered with piles of papers among which I recognised a fragment of the Europe's map. Schwarzberg was denoted with a red dot and thin, concentric lines diverged from it in all directions. But when I tried to read where they led, the lines faded and after a while disappeared completely.
The Preceptor clasped his fingers and fixed his piercing gaze on me.
'Tom, it's time you get your new Name.'
I nodded. As early as last year Teresiah told me that Grindewald's followers use special pseudonyms, so called Names, which cannot be revealed to anybody but the Preceptor himself. There was a powerful spell connected with the Names that created strong psychical ties between the persons using them. It magnified the effect of the mind magic, allowing for example to read thoughts and feelings of the persons even few hundreds kilometres apart, what in the normal circumstances would be impossible. Therefore the Name was the highest level of initiation for the Grindewald followers and I was bursting with pride that I proved to be worthy.
'Master,' my voice was shaking with emotions 'My new Name is Voldemurde.'
Preceptor rose his wand and slowly said four words.
'Voldemurde, miles quidam meus'.(**)
The Binding Spell has been cast.
Grindewald smiled with satisfaction.
'Now you are one of us,' he said solemnly 'The Chosen one. When the Day comes, you will stand by my side and achieve the deeds, which would wonder the whole world. Soon...'
'Yes, Master,' I whispered.
Whatever the Preceptor's words meant, I knew I would do everything for him.
The sun hid behind the mountains. One of the last beams fell on the red phial, standing on the window-still, and for a short while the table was lit by crimson light. As if suddenly everything run with blood...
'Tom,' Preceptor's voice roused me from meditation 'What does your Name mean? I must admit it sounds a little bit enigmatically. '
I smiled and waved my wand. Opalescent letters shone in the air, creating an inscription:
DUMBLEODRE
The utmost bewilderment appeared on the Preceptor face. Satisfied with the effect, I waved the wand again and the letters whirled shaping a new word:
BOLDEMURDE
'Holly, unblemished name,' I said venomously 'I'm sure dear grandpa would be delighted I use it. Only one more change' I waved the wand for the third time 'I prefer a letter "V". It's a symbol of victory.'
The letters whirled and formed my new Name.
VOLDEMURDE
Preceptor's dark eyes twinkled triumphantly.
(*) Ursula Le Guin, "Wizard from the Earthsea"
(**) in Latin: Voldemurde, one of my soldiers
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOU !
6. The Dark Arts
Occlumency is a difficult art. It needs patience, discipline and iron character. Closing the mind against the infiltration of the other wizard is like fighting off the attacks of a powerful and cunning enemy. A single blockade is not enough to stop a well-trained foe. As the walls of the most powerful fortress will fall, sooner or later, under pressure of a countless army, so will any barrier protecting the mind. Therefore one has to raise new blockades and fortifications all the time, to delude and deceive the enemy. The structure of the mind cannot be fixed but must remain in a continuous motion. Only then the victory can be gained.
The beginning wasn't easy but the hatred infused me with the new strengths. I had a distinct aim in front of me and during the long hours of the training I have never forgotten who was my enemy and who was waiting for me at the end of the dark path I had stepped on. I think that were it not for Albus Dumbledore, whose face, twisted in sneering, patronizing smile haunted me every night, I wouldn't achieve mastery of Occlumency as quickly it surprised even the Preceptor himself.
It was him who, two hours a day, taught me everything I should know about the human mind, to take control of it on day and become its master - a real Mentor. But most of time I spent with Teresiah. Now, after a month of difficult and strenuous training that consisted in mutual attempts to break into each other's mind, I have already understood why that blinded man could overcome his infirmity so perfectly. Teresiah, who read in mind so easily as if it was a child's play, see the world with other people's eyes. And, as he tried to convince me, such a way of perception was much more useful since it allowed him to see everything from different perspectives.
I couldn't deny it but I still considered Teresiah's blindness to be injustice and many times I wanted to ask, whether there weren't any magical ways of restoring his eyesight. I always restrained myself from doing it since I didn't want to hurt him, but the longer I knew him, the more evident it became that Teresiah not only resigned himself to his fate but also was proud of it.
'It's a real gift!' he used to say with a conviction that always filled me with a vague anxiety 'You are looking at the world and it seems to you that you recognised its real face. You can see the chair and the table,' he pointed at the furniture made of a dark wood, the only outfit of his Spartan room beside a narrow bed. 'But can you be sure that they really exist? What if they are just an illusion ? What if somebody deludes your senses, showing you the pictures that are not real beings and makes you believe they are true? What then, Tom? Aren't you like a blind man yourself?'
I was silent, looking anxiously around as if I was afraid that the common decoration of the room would disappear in a moment, giving way to something I even didn't expect to exist. And though the table was still a table, I knew that there was a deep wisdom in Teresiah's words. I have already discovered the power of the Illusion.
Nero turned out to be a specialist in this field. Before a week passed since the day of our first meeting, he managed to demonstrate me a whole range of his skills, beginning with the old trick with illusory door in a very solid wall, and ending on changing of the castle dinning-room into a forest glade. It was a rare experience. I one moment I found myself among the high, soughing pine-trees, I felt a gentle breeze on my face and warm beams of the setting sun. I breathed in the clear air, full of scent of the wild mint and camomile. But when I bent down to cull a snow-white flower, everything disappeared and I was again in the high, stone hall, looking in amazement at the fork lying on the floor.
'That is Illusion!' exclaimed Nero enthusiastically, patting me friendly on the back.
'This is also the magic of mind,' explained Teresiah 'The Illusionist doesn't create false pictures or sounds, but affects our senses so that they give us false information. He uses man's own perfection against him. And that is the reason why my blindness is a gift,' he said cheerfully 'Only in silence is a word, only in darkness is a light'(*) he sang softly 'The one who wants to see the light of the truth, must lose oneself in the darkness. I'm void of the eyesight and that is why the optical Illusion doesn't affect me. I see the world as it really is.'
It always impressed me very much how naturally he used the world "see". Though I could only guess what Teresiah's world looked like, I understood he would never exchanged it for the other one. It was difficult to believe but his infirmity made him really happy.
'Don't trust your senses, Tom', he used to tell me 'It's too easy to cheat them.'
'Gaining control over the human's mind gives you an absolute power.' said the Preceptor after demonstrating me the Cruciatus curse for the first time 'You must be aware that it is within your power both to alleviate and cause the pain. You can make somebody suffers. You can also take control over his feelings. Fear, despair, feeling of hopelessness and loneliness ... No one will bear it.'
'But I don't want to hurt anybody!' I exclaimed, thrilled 'I don't want anybody suffer through me...' I hesitated '...except him.'
The Preceptor's face remained inscrutable and only deep in his dark eyes something strange twinkled for a moment; like cold, grim laugher.
'I'm not teaching you those curses for you run along the Diagon Alley and cast them at anybody you met.' he said dryly 'But every stick has two ends and you mustn't forget about it. You have to be able to protect yourself against those who don't have such scruples and don't demur at using the magic for their own purposes. Against people like Albus Dumbledore. And to defeat him, you must know his weapon.'
'Is it the Dark Arts?' I asked quietly.
The wizard looked at me piercingly.
'If you say "dark", do you mean "evil"?' he asked gently and I nodded 'Magic is never evil, only the men who used it are. Any power could be used both in just and unjust cause. But in itself is neither good nor evil. Is much older than mankind.' he sighed 'Did you hear the story of Louis Saver? He lived in France in the last century. He saved fifteen Muggle children using the magic commonly believed to be exceptionally dangerous, exceptionally "dark"...' Preceptor's thin mouth twisted in ironic smile 'Three years later he died, burned into ash with a simple Lighting Spell, cast by an old, half-blinded witch who didn't see him in a dim alley.'
The silence fell. Preceptor was standing motionless, lost in thoughts; red glow of the setting sun reflected in his black, fathomless eyes. I was staring at that face, proud and noble but marked with years and concerns. And I realised why Ramana, Teresiah and Nero always talked about him with such an esteem and devotion. I also would do everything for him.
'Master!' I said fervently 'I don't want to go back to Hogwart. Let me stay here. I will not learn anymore there, but with you...'
'No, Tom,' said quietly Preceptor, putting hand on my shoulder 'The time has not come yet.'
'Welcome, my dears,' said the wizard 'We begin the next year of learning. For some of you it's going to be the very first step on the paths of knowledge.' he looked encouragingly at the group of frightened first-years gathered next to the teachers' table. 'For the others it is a crowning of seven years' labours and struggles. Time goes by. Something ends, something begins. For more than twenty five years I've been holding a honourable office of the Headmaster of one of the best schools of magic. It's time to give way to the younger ones.'
A silence fell, so deep that one could hear the howling of the wind outside the castle windows. To judge by the teachers' faces, they were also very surprised.
'Yes, my dears,' smiled Dippet 'Since today Hogwart has a new Headmaster. I have no doubt I entrust the school with the most worthy. You know him well. I present you...' he pointed at the man who was sitting on his right-hand side '...Headmaster Albus Dumbledore !'
'WHAT ?!' I shrieked springing to my feet.
I couldn't believe my own ears. Was it a joke? Dumbledore the Headmaster of Hogwart? That envious, mean man whose all live was based on the lies? Who wouldn't stop at anything to realise his pathological ambitions? What a nonsense!
'Mister Riddle?' Dippet sounded surprised with my sudden exclamation 'Do you have any remark?'
Did I have? For weeks I've been thinking of nothing else but of shouting out the truth about Albus Dumbledore. I wanted all those wizards who admired and esteemed him to see his real face. I wanted to crush what he valued most of all - his fame and his good name - and I wanted to do it right here and right now...
'The time has not come yet!' Preceptor's words rang in my mind loudly and clearly. I looked at Dippet.
'What a great news!' I said trying to make my voice sounding a little bit more enthusiastic.
The old wizard nodded with content and returned to his talk, speaking highly of virtues of the new Headmaster. Dumbledore, instead, was looking at me thoughtfully. He was not the man who could be put off with any bland words. He felt I wanted to say something completely different than I finally did. And it made him anxious.
I knew what was going to happen in a moment; the first test of the knowledge the Preceptor had taught me was approaching. But I was prepared for that I looked defiantly into the blue eyes. For a few seconds nothing has happened but suddenly I felt that Dumbledore started to search my mind. Slowly, carefully, not taking his eyes off my face, he began to look through the structure of my memory. And I let him do it. What Dumbledore was exploring was rubbish, a dummy constructed by the Preceptor to that very end. My real memory was save but Dumbledore shouldn't realise at all that somebody else had manipulated in my mind.
I knew it was a risky game. Dumbledore was a good Mentor and in encounter with him my skill could turn out insufficient. Therefore I was following his every step, ready to throw him out of my mind in any moment.
I don't know how long it lasted. Time loses its meaning when you travel through the depths of the mind. But finally Dumbledore sighed, once more looked at me piercingly and turned to Dippet who has just asked him to make a short inaugural speech.
I took a deep breath - I won the first battle.
I missed serious Teresiah, cheerful Nero, charming Ramana. I remembered the long, summer evenings we used to pass on a large terrace of the western tower, chatting light-heartedly, casting carelessly the spells that most of my classmates didn't even expect to exist and enjoying every minute in the Preceptor's castle.
And now I was stuck in Hogwart, separated from my Master and my friends, separated from the knowledge I desired. Moreover, every day I had to face the man I hated so much. And though I tried to conceal my feelings under the veil of politeness and forced respect, Dumbledore noticed that my attitude towards him had changed completely.
The last week of January, after Transfiguration lesson (though he became a Headmaster he didn't abandoned his lectures), he asked me for a short talk.
'Tom, is everything all right?' he asked gently 'I have the impression that something rankles you. Sometimes you seem so...distant.'
He looked at me searchingly and I have already prepared myself to force back the attack on my mind but to my great surprised he didn't try to. He was just observing me attentively and with a concern.
'I know you miss Amis,' he began carefully, as if he was trying one of the possibilities 'but you understand that the scholarship in Salem was a great chance for him.'
I hardly restrained myself form spitting on his face. The scholarship - so he called it ! How could he lie to me so cynically!
'If something annoys you, ' continued Dumbledore not taking his piercing eyes off me 'you can always tell me about it,'
I smiled ironically and looked straight into his eyes.
'Of course, Headmaster.' I said.
'Tom, finally!' called Ramana running up to me and kissing my cheek 'We missed you !'
'So do I,' I replied, shaking hands with Teresiah and Nero.
'You acquitted yourself perfectly well,' said the Preceptor when I sat in front of him in his office 'But I was sure you wouldn't disappoint me.'
Golden beams of the June sun were falling on the table, covered with piles of papers among which I recognised a fragment of the Europe's map. Schwarzberg was denoted with a red dot and thin, concentric lines diverged from it in all directions. But when I tried to read where they led, the lines faded and after a while disappeared completely.
The Preceptor clasped his fingers and fixed his piercing gaze on me.
'Tom, it's time you get your new Name.'
I nodded. As early as last year Teresiah told me that Grindewald's followers use special pseudonyms, so called Names, which cannot be revealed to anybody but the Preceptor himself. There was a powerful spell connected with the Names that created strong psychical ties between the persons using them. It magnified the effect of the mind magic, allowing for example to read thoughts and feelings of the persons even few hundreds kilometres apart, what in the normal circumstances would be impossible. Therefore the Name was the highest level of initiation for the Grindewald followers and I was bursting with pride that I proved to be worthy.
'Master,' my voice was shaking with emotions 'My new Name is Voldemurde.'
Preceptor rose his wand and slowly said four words.
'Voldemurde, miles quidam meus'.(**)
The Binding Spell has been cast.
Grindewald smiled with satisfaction.
'Now you are one of us,' he said solemnly 'The Chosen one. When the Day comes, you will stand by my side and achieve the deeds, which would wonder the whole world. Soon...'
'Yes, Master,' I whispered.
Whatever the Preceptor's words meant, I knew I would do everything for him.
The sun hid behind the mountains. One of the last beams fell on the red phial, standing on the window-still, and for a short while the table was lit by crimson light. As if suddenly everything run with blood...
'Tom,' Preceptor's voice roused me from meditation 'What does your Name mean? I must admit it sounds a little bit enigmatically. '
I smiled and waved my wand. Opalescent letters shone in the air, creating an inscription:
The utmost bewilderment appeared on the Preceptor face. Satisfied with the effect, I waved the wand again and the letters whirled shaping a new word:
'Holly, unblemished name,' I said venomously 'I'm sure dear grandpa would be delighted I use it. Only one more change' I waved the wand for the third time 'I prefer a letter "V". It's a symbol of victory.'
The letters whirled and formed my new Name.
Preceptor's dark eyes twinkled triumphantly.
(*) Ursula Le Guin, "Wizard from the Earthsea"
(**) in Latin: Voldemurde, one of my soldiers