"That is at least impolite. Well, who do you think yourself?"
"Ah, yes, we sent a letter to your parents. Taking a while."
"Here we'll find out what the matter is."
The letter was quite large, but I read it quickly. Turns out, parents successfully flew to some medical conference in Greece. According to them, they couldn't even think that I would write, because Hermione usually didn't write, but told ceaselessly during holidays. In short, the owl reached them tired, and for two days didn't intend to fly anywhere, sheltering in their hotel room under the air conditioner. They fed it properly, gave it water, wrote two letters, and sent it back. Everything is excellent with them, and they are very glad that things are going no worse for me, that I am making friends and making progress in studies. Cute.
Glancing at the Gryffindor table, again could not restrain a smirk, seeing my sister's face red from embarrassment and shame, reading the letter. On one hand, if she was scolded, then for a reason. But on the other, she, as a girl of almost fourteen years, will easily bear a grudge, and the grudge will be against me. do I need it? Don't think so.
"Everything is fine with them, and they are happy for me," I reported the brief content of the letter to curious Justin. "Flew away to a conference in Greece."
"A-a-ah, understood. Or else I started to worry because of such long terms."
"What if the letter arrived not in front of everyone, and I didn't say?"
"Well, if you had your own owl, then yes," the guy nodded. "But school ones, or other postal ones that bring magazines there and stuff, always arrange morning bombardment during breakfast. So excluded."
"Okay, postal mailing expert. Time to go to classes already."
Charms classes passed completely unnoticed by me. I was more focused on myself and my recovery. Cedric said he would think about endurance training for me. Will need to dissuade him, and instead add endurance training to my own schedule. And for matches, I will deactivate the bracelet; this will remove a tangible part of the load. Not that I will become stronger or particularly faster, no, not at this stage of development. But to exhaust me like that will require much more time.
The second Charms lesson is practice. Covered the Glacius spell, the goal of which is freezing an object, and outwardly it manifested in the form of a stream of cold hovering air from the wand. It has several modifications, and the textbook talks about them, but except mentions, there is no other information. We practiced this spell on glasses with water, and I must say that for the first twenty minutes anything but freezing happened with these glasses. Poor Professor Flitwick probably got exhausted restoring everything, but by the face of this tiny wizard, one could make an absolutely opposite assumption; he was happy with generally any result of our inept sorcery.
After two Charms lessons according to the schedule was lunch, and after it, for me personally, windows until curfew. Why? Well, I am not signed up for Divination and Arithmancy. Cedric, by the way, asked to be with guys in the Great Hall or in the common room during windows, and Dementors are to blame for this; the school administration is interested in students being in large companies for as long as possible, but, it seems, haven't figured out how to stimulate this. Well, besides punishments.
So I went to the common room in proud solitude; the others, who didn't need to go to classes for one reason or another, remained in the Great Hall. Reaching the common room without any problems, I entered our room, climbed onto the bed, curtained my nook, and began to think a thought under the light of a magical lamp on the wall. The thought is simple; how to make artifacts.
The elven method by which my bracelet is created is cardinally unsuitable for mass distribution. There are several reasons for this, and they are simple to the point of stupor. To begin with, the material for artifact amulets by this technology will be either wood or metal, but special metal, magical in its own way. Many questions will arise about special metal, and subsequently about me, and I don't need this. Even more questions about wood. Well, that is, maybe not about wood itself, but about why the amulet has such a structure as if it grew on a tree; that yes, that is already strange.
The contours of warming magical constructs themselves are not that complex, and after application on an object, they are simply written into its structure, which makes it impossible to recognize constituent contours; only the general effect. Simply put, the finished result is indistinguishable from local enchanted things. This is a plus.
The dwarven variant is banal, but no less effective because of this. Take metal, forge. Compose a runic chain or make an impression of a magical contour on the striking plane of the hammer, and drive it into the workpiece. Well, this is in a simplified version. Usually, a heap of tools is required for dwarven work, and for elven—only earth and one's own brains. But with dwarven work there will be no questions; metal is ordinary, and engraving or imprinted contour is also not particularly new for this world: saw, touched, understood nothing, but works.
In the end, it turns out that the optimum is dwarven work. But this is truly Work—with a capital letter. Very capital letter! A dwarf, if he knows how, will not allow something worse than his capabilities to come out from under his hands...
"Stop!" I stopped myself.
I am not a dwarf, and I don't need the ideal! I don't strictly have to forge the workpiece; can transfigure from anything and fix eternal transfiguration either with a local formula or an elven contour with a similar effect. With such a contour I fixed the bracelet transformation. Applying runes is not mine yet, and specifically, at the moment I simply won't be able to explain how I composed an incomprehensible chain using unknown runes. Means I will need an anvil and a hammer to make impressions on it and drive into the workpiece. The hammer, of course, needs to be enchanted with runes, but the chain there is simple, and I won't show it to anyone. Well then...
Taking the wand in hands, waved, concentrating air in a point. Designating it as a target with will, traced necessary formulas for transfiguration in thoughts, imagined a flat, slightly convex drop-shaped piece of metal with a silver tint. Magic came into action, and a moment later a blank for a medallion hung in the air, and there was even a hole there. The blank fell on the bed in front of me, and I repeated the process. Once more. Again and again.
Carried away by the business, I came to my senses only when another blank could not stay on the pile of its analogs, and rolled down from the bed, loudly knocking on the wood of the floor. Surprisedly examining the blockage of identical metal droplets on my bed, moved to the next stage; transfiguration of an anvil.
Strictly technically, a simple metal surface with correct runic script will be enough, uncomplicated—basis for dwarves and written into the shard of his life with incredible diligence. That's what repetition "ten thousand times" leads to! In the end, I decided to truly depart from the dwarven canon, despite slight reluctance; a metal sheet on wheels is easier to hide under the bed than a clumsy anvil.
Waving the wand again, concentrated air and imagined everything needed. Imagined the runic chain at the stage of object transfiguration; will just need to saturate it with magic later. Yes, not dwarven-style, but they are not famous for control in principle, and therefore work through tool-conductors, concentrators, and other gizmos.