I decided to pull the contour which I will "drive" into the bracelet from the elf's memory, or rather, use a simplified version of Minor Purification, combining with hex deflection and warming. The matter is not particularly complex, just need to visualize them, connect necessary figures and runes, as I did to create my modified Minor Purification, and embed into the striking part of the hammer. On the other side of the hammer will be that very dwarven runic script which during the hammer blow passes energy through it, "driving" the effect embedded in the impression into the workpiece. Amusing, by the way, that in the course of such work with artifacts, the workpiece is covered as if with laser engraving, only deep; hence sparks flying from under the hammer. And even more amusing is that the more beautiful, correct, and high-quality the engraving, the higher the quality of the artifact and charms.
Looking at the resulting hammer, aimed at the bracelet blank. Swing, strike; sparks and ringing, and strong vibration passed through the arm. It seemed even walls rang. Still, dwarves knew a lot about construction, and vibrations from their activity and magic certainly never moved along walls.
Taking the bracelet in hands, I could not restrain a satisfied nod, although the dwarf shard was dissatisfied with minor shortcomings; not ideal, you see! But for the ideal a very precise recalculation of contours specifically for such a method of manufacturing is needed, and how to do this is unknown to me; not in memory. Not there, and that's it. And how to come to this is also unknown to me so far.
Checking the bracelet, understood where the flaw lies; not particularly good energy efficiency. But here one should understand what to compare with. For locals it generally works, as they say, on the Holy Spirit, but for an elf or dwarf it would seem somewhat gluttonous. What can you say? Different realities, different needs, different standards.
Putting the bracelet into the inner pocket of the robe, hid everything under the bed and went away from the room. The first stage is completed.
On Sunday morning of September nineteenth, I was full of enthusiasm to find Professor Flitwick and show him the bracelet. There is nothing suspicious in it, but knowing Hermione, she will definitely be happy if an adult, and moreover a wizard, and moreover a professor, approves her gift. And a cake is needed... Are such thoughts due to sister's birthday, or due to sweet dessert at breakfast?
"Justin. Where to get a cake?"
"Cake?" the guy tore himself away from his dessert, unexpectedly served at breakfast in the Great Hall.
"Yes, cake."
"Um... Order from house-elves in the kitchen."
"And how did I not guess myself!"
Didn't delay with this matter. Cedric showed the kitchen back on the first day, but for us, "badgers," no need to search for it; walk past every day. So reached the large still-life painting without problems, and tickled the painted pear. It giggled in the most real way, jumped in the painted plate, and the painting opened inward, letting me through.
Hogwarts kitchen amazed. But not with something surprising, but with complete "last century." It seems this is the only place in the castle not touched by progress in any way. A large stone hall with extremely old-fashioned and simple wooden furniture, a multitude of stoves with magical smokeless fire, large tables that stood absolutely the same way as in the Great Hall, other trivia... And to this trivia one can attribute a huge number of small and disproportionate humanoids, thin-thin, with caricatured faces and large pointed ears. They were dressed in various pillowcases, towels, and other rags of varying degrees of wear.
At the sight of me, these creatures immediately showed joy and hurriedly approached. Such a reaction even caused apprehension. Those crumbs of magic that my body emits simply by existing began to be absorbed by these midgets, and this surprised me; I thought that all magical creatures in this world are natural users of internal energy, but no. It seems these little ones have no connection with any energetic dimensions.
"Does the young wizard need something?" one of them, who got closest, looked at me with hope.
Others expressed exactly the same hope.
"Need," I nodded, and this caused even greater enthusiasm in the little creatures. "Need a cake. Tasty, for about four people. Theme—girl's birthday. But without excess."
Shorties nodded furiously, being fully satisfied with the errand.
"And who are you anyway, by the way?"
One of those older, more restrained, did not hurry to run joyfully and fulfill the request, and in his gaze at the others old man's joy for the younger generation was read.
"House-elves, young wizard," creaked this shorty, looking at me. "Domovoy elves."
"Pfft... cough..." I choked on my own saliva. "Elves?"
"Precisely, young wizard."
The elf shard burned with righteous anger, and I wanted to be sincerely indignant, but, strangely enough, crumbs of experience of this same shard forced me to cool my ardor, sit down and think. Didn't go far, and sat on a stool at one of the tables, while one of these "elves" brought me cool orange juice. And where did he get it? Although, what difference does it make; except juice there was nothing in the juice, and that is the main thing.
Elf... Elf is a verbal association of my personality basis. It superimposed on memories of the elf shard, which led to such an incident. In local realities, the word "elf" is associated by no means with that people, but with small mischievous faeries, imps, pixies, and other magical creatures. Those very "correct" elves, if digging memories deeper, have completely different self-names: Minnónar, Quendi, Edhil, depends on languages.
In local mythology there are also mentions of a similar people, but, if one believes even magical literature, this is a mossy myth of ancient times even for them, remade and embellished more than once or twice. Tuatha Dé, if memory does not fail me about those texts that were completely uninteresting to me and about those seen casually. Simply marvelous tales, strikingly differing between ordinary and magical worlds.
More or less coming to senses from the unexpected discovery, with a movement of hand gave out a stream of unformed neutral energy, holding it from spontaneous sorcery with will. House-elves instantly "sucked" it out of the air, and began working with even greater animation.
"Haste is useless, quality is needed," I said to the old and pleased house-elf.
"Of course, young wizard."
Receiving an understanding nod from this creature, I hurriedly left the kitchen away from sin. Hard for them here, probably. These creatures are clearly predisposed to absorption and accumulation of unformed neutral energy, but such does not linger in space for long, striving to create at least something from itself. Would not be surprised that these creatures somehow bind to a specific wizard, absorbing small surpluses of his energy. But, on the other hand, Hogwarts for such a community is an ideal place. Everything here is saturated with formed magic, and neutral energy is capable of staying here for quite a long time albeit in rarefied, but unchanged state.
Going out into the corridor and reaching the main tower, I went via moving staircases to the Ravenclaw tower, to the Charms and Spells auditorium. Knocking, looked inside; empty. But the door to the adjacent office at the end of the hall was open. Passing the auditorium and carefully bypassing books piled around the lecturer's desk, I reached this door and knocked on it already, looking inside.
"Yes-yes?" responded Professor Flitwick sitting at a massive and expensive desk.