Salazar stared thoughtfully at the letter the raven had brought in front of him.

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Ordinary parchment, fine beaded handwriting, a highly ornate style... seemingly nothing particularly remarkable, except the name in the corner...

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Nicolas Flamel.

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And a personal sign, so to speak: the Phoenix rising from the ashes.

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Salazar snorted mockingly. Six hundred years old, and still a poseur who's practically a lowlife... So much pathos! And how much duplicity.

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Inaudibly, Thomas approached him from behind, cautiously asking:

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" Who is it from?"

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" Flamel," the mage grimaced. " The ship is sinking and the rat is scrambling for salvation..."

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The Slytherin turned to Tom and smiled:

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" Good morning. Breakfast?"

" Morning... I don't mind..."

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Breakfast was quiet and somehow... family-like, there was no other way to put it. Tom had a leisurely breakfast, occasionally glancing at the unaccustomed Slytherin in a somewhat surprised and puzzled way.

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" Is there something confusing you, Tom?"

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" Yes, Salazar," Voldemort sipped his coffee thoughtfully. " You know, I never thought I'd have this... a family, a home... a breakfast like this... I never dreamed of that when I was a kid, and then... " he shook his head thoughtfully, " then again, I never dreamed of it..."

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" I understand," the Slytherin smiled sadly, "I didn't have a sweet childhood either... I found my father at fifteen... Yes," he shrugged in response to the heir's shocked look, "at fifteen, but before that I didn't even know I had one, I thought I was an orphan, and they always wanted to kill me. All my childhood was full of attempts... but then... then it was a real blessing... to have a father..."

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"What was he like? " Thomas's interest was genuine. After all, very little was known about the Peverelles.

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" A great one. And a real father. He taught me himself, everything I know, I know because he told me. You're part of the family now, so you can talk to him. And not just him," the Slytherin smiled slyly. " In the meantime... let's deal with the letter... "Salazar's eyes went serpentine for a moment.

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%%%

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It was hard to decipher the ramblings of the madman that filled the four-foot-long scroll. Of course, two feet of this writing was logical and clear - Flamel crawled on his belly, whining for forgiveness, while, as a payoff, spilling, to the best of his ability, information about his former leaders, and here was where it took a lot of work.

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It was clear that Flamel had a vow, and more than one, but the magician twisted as best he could. Metaphors, hyperbole, vague allusions to implicit circumstances... I was going to use anything I could get my hands on, and a little more on top of it.

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Voldemort scratched the back of his head fiercely:

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" And that's what it's all about? Like maple leaves, they soar! She-wolf's milk! What does he mean by that?! What nonsense I've seen sometimes, but this!"

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The Slytherin, meanwhile, was frowning intently, staring at the wall. Suddenly he moved:

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"You know, this nonsense is familiar to me! It reminds me of the pathetic attempts at poetry that a troubadour used to torment me with, or at least that's what he called himself."

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"Well, he, too, was a real amateur at the difficult business of rhyming, but how he puffed himself up! And his comparisons were extremely similar to this squalor. So... let's read it again. And then, one more time."

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It's going. With a squeak, but still... I had to decompose Flamel's writing into components, like a potion into ingredients.

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" Look. There are four pieces here, therefore there are four mages. This is the first thing that is clear enough... Then... what can a mage describe?"

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"Appearance, magical power..."

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" Coat of Arms. Apparently these are descriptions of coats of arms. So... They are purebloods, or at least half-breeds recognized by the Genus. They're from old enough families to have coats of arms. Consequently, we just have to figure out what the wretch had in mind when he wrote his masterpiece. And the strange thing is: he is an alchemist, the way they described the reactions, not every drunken skald can compose, but this?! Well..."

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%%%

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Hogwarts was shaking. The building was shaking with the roar of Helga, who was muscling the Godric faculty in its entirety.

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" Great father! What on earth is that!? The crooked brats of Angrboda! Even legless worms move faster! Where are your hands?! I'll rip it out! Root and branch! Halt! Don't you dare chop that branch! It is the last! Great Odin... give me the patience... and the brains to hide this pile of future corpses!"

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"Ghm!"

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" What's the matter?!"

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" Um... Helga, could you be more polite?"

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"That's what I'm hearing from!"

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" Ahem... gotcha..."

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The general Herbology lesson was going on...

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%%%

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The magical world of Britain was buzzing. Once again... The news of the announcement of Voldemort as Slytherin's heir simply burned the last brains of the commoners. The Eaters added fuel to the fire, telling of the colorful ceremony (secular, of course!) which they had witnessed...

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And what a Castle! And what riches! And what power... The mages blurted out rapturous puddles of detail, making the others grit their teeth in envy and powerless hatred.

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The Ministry was silent... but the aristocrats sent their congratulations to Lord Slytherin... and even a few to Voldemort! The latter even laughed at the fact...

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The deciphering of Flamel's message was slow. So far Salazar could more or less understand only a few comparisons, but it was already something. The beginning.

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%%%

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Potions! How much is in that word...

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Ask anyone what you associate with that word, and the answer is immediately Snape!

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It's been a long time since Hogwarts graduates could boast of their love for the subject, it's been a long time since the Masters appeared in England...

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Slytherin gave Snape a whole lecture, in which he popularly explained why he did not consider him a true Master, calling him so only out of politeness, although the mage received such a title.

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"Lord Prince... tell me, do you have students?"

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" The whole Hogwarts," Snape shrugged. Salazar shook his head in the negative.

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"No, I mean Disciples. Those whom you have taught your mastery personally."

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"No."

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" It means that you are not a full Master..."

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Snape flinched, but the Slytherin froze him with his gaze.

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"Yes, you are not. You are, at the moment, a Master only to yourself. To become a true Master, you need to learn at least one Disciple. Only by passing on your experience to someone will you yourself realize it..."

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" And how was it with you, my lord?"Snape inquired. The Slytherin hummed.

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"It's funny. My first Potions teacher was a man who genuinely hated me. On my first lesson he made me look like dirt and I hated him and everything associated with him. And since I am an intuitive... " The wizard shrugged, eyeing Snape, who was evidently remembering something, frowning, "Potions training was a torment for me, akin to torture. And I might well never have become a potter if it hadn't been for my father. It was only thanks to him and his sincere love and concern that I became interested in what I hated.

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"Ahem."

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" What is it, Lord Prince? Do you remember something? " The Founder sarcastically inquired.

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" Unfortunately..." The magician nodded.

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" Now tell me... How many Hogwarts students became Potions Masters? How many of them became Masters? And are there any at all? Silence... A most eloquent response... well... Lord Prince... tomorrow I will be giving Potions classes to all the courses in sequence. I think they could easily be paired together: first to second, third to fourth, fifth to sixth to seventh. You will be my assistant... Let's see," the Founder's face grew hard, "what you're good for besides washing flasks."

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%%%

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It is unpleasant to be the target of sarcasm. It is doubly unpleasant if that sarcasm is true. It is triple unple unpleasant if you realize that you are being treated as you have treated others...

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The students, all of them, from small to large, sat at the Slytherin lectures with their mouths open and their ears open and frozen with delight. Even those who did not digest Potions organically, admiringly listened to the great wizard, telling about what Potions were, what could be done with them, and, most importantly, HOW it was done...

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Slytherin told the most simple and mundane things: cutting and preparation of ingredients, rules of processing, connections and conflicts... But he interspersed his lectures with examples from his own and his students' practice, so that he was not bored. At the end of each lesson he demonstrated a simple but effective potion to illustrate the processes.

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For the first graders he brewed a potion called "Rainbow Storm": in a glass cauldron a colorful liquid was bubbling, shimmering with neon lights, spectacularly shooting upwards a whole yard in a rainbow storm...

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For the older children there was a potion called Dandelion Moon, a silver-colored potion boiling quietly in a cauldron, from which flew out silver-colored fluffs, as if someone had blown a giant dandelion. When these flakes landed, they turned into miniature moons, illuminating the space like nightlights.

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But for the older ones there was a real master class: Slytherin spectacularly chopped various ingredients, the cauldron boiled then calmed down, the reactions came one after another... And in the end, a strange jelly-like substance of yellow color was obtained, the volume of a coffee cup, exuding inexpressible aroma of cinnamon and warm, freshly baked bread...

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Liquid Patronus.

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And that in half an hour!

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Everyone present, including Snape, with awe in their eyes looked at the wizard, holding in his hand a small jar, in which he placed the received potion.

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"I invented this potion for my daughter, who was injured as a child by a boggart. When taken orally, it makes a mage immune to the effects of Dementors, as well as similar creatures: boggarts, dream eaters and others. One teaspoon for one month is enough..."

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Everyone was silent. The students remembered the Dementors circling the school... and Snape had felt the effects, sitting in prison.

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" ... also, taken with hot milk on an empty stomach, relieves the consequences of being among them..."

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Snape and practically the entire Slytherin faculty were devouring the panacea with their eyes: if the former was dreaming of using it personally, the students were thinking of their relatives.

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Azkaban doesn't go away for nothing.

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"... The potion helps to relieve muscle spasms, tremors, heat exchange disorders, but most importantly, it helps to normalize the mental state..."

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A pleading voice came from the crowd:

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" My Lord! Tell me, could you teach us how to make this potion?"

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The fifth-year student looked pleadingly at the mage who had divine status in his eyes, clearly preparing to collapse to his knees if it would help. The Slytherin looked intently around the audience and smiled slightly:

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" Of course. Everyone is welcome to come to a class in two hours today in the Potions Room."

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%%%

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Only after spending a lesson with Salazar, where the mage first showed how to prepare everything, and helping students personally, Snape could understand what the mage meant when he said that he was a scientist, but not a teacher. Sad, of course, but not fatal...

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He had only until the end of the school year to suffer, and then Salazar promised to get him a proper teacher. And Severus would finally be able to do what he really loved - research.

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%%%

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Time flowed like water. Within a week, the wizards had managed to decipher about two pieces. The Slytherin made descriptions of the coats of arms and proceeded to decipher further. Thomas trained his subordinates. It was decided that he would remove the Mark from them, and it was announced that, to ensure that those wizards who craved it behaved well, it would be removed first from those who complied with the orders of the Court.

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The Eaters, listening to their Lord cautiously, couldn't believe their ears. How could this be? Could it be that there would be no more Marks, no more punishments...

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An adequate Lord commanded even more respect and fear than an insane one.

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And admiration...

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%%%

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As Slytherin had promised, the introduction to the family continued. After introducing Tom to the dead, he moved on to the living...

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Dorothea and Sebastian were wary of Gaunt, who was introduced to them, and greeted him politely. The children were in no hurry to throw themselves on his neck: not so educated, and why would they do that? They had to get to know him better first, form an opinion...

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They had no hatred for Voldemort; they had heard little or nothing about him before they came to England; they didn't know him as a person, either...

.

Thomas turned on the charm and charisma to the fullest, keeping the children occupied with interesting conversation. As it turned out, Sebastian was interested in artifacting, the generic gift was slowly but surely waking up, and Dorothea became interested in Battle Magic.

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Thomas knew a lot, knew a lot too, and told interesting stories... After an hour the children began to thaw, and after two hours they asked the magician a lot of questions.

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The twins sat quietly in a corner, as befits an asset, greedily absorbing knowledge.

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Anything can come in handy in life.

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%%%

.

The process of deciphering continued. Strange as it may seem, children joined in. It was thanks to them that the third coat of arms was identified.

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As it turned out, they had glimpsed something like this in Italy when they had guests. One of the wizards was very... possessive looking at them. As if they were cattle he intended to buy for the divorce.

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" The way he looked at us... " Sebastian shuddered. Dorothea nodded, shivering.

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Looking through the children's memories, the magicians were able to see the coat of arms on the mage's clothes. But the face...

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" Apparently, he's on the back burner," the Slytherin said, tapping his fingers on the table." Discrepancy... The appearance is too unremarkable, but the demeanor... clearly the cream of society..."

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" Now we have something! " Thomas smiled predatorily. Adrenaline was surging in his blood, his hunting instincts calling him to follow his prey, to chase, to grab, to tear it apart.

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Salazar enjoyed watching the excited Heir running around the office, feeling that he himself was seized by excitement. And the adrenaline in his blood boiled...

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It's been a long time since he HUNTED... Someone too clever and cunning is in for a surprise! A very, very unpleasant surprise...

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The mage smiled expectantly, his long fangs gleaming.

.

%%%

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" Have we covered all the tracks?"

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" Yes. I checked everything. Flamel is sitting in his hole, the rest of the connections are cut."

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" How about it?"

.

"Mmmm... no, unfortunately... though I would like to!"

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"Yes, that would be too suspicious!"

.

That yes... a pity... so sorry

.

%%%

.

" What do you think, Severus?"

.

" I think it's time."

.

"Do you think that... he'll allow it?"

.

"If we don't try it, we won't know."

.

" You are a philosopher, godfather!"

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" Not without that!"

.

" Well... let's go! Fortune favors the bold!"

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"Wow, a real Gryffindor!"