I am Voldemort's friend

 Chapter Nineteen. OWLs!? NEWT!

In the Help Room, I came across some extremely interesting information about Seeds. According to the author, our body and soul are fused together. Accordingly, the soul has a powerful influence on it. And vice versa? Vice versa, significantly less — despite the somewhat... gaseous nature of the soul, it is significantly stronger and possesses... leadership qualities, if I may say so. 

Hence the unusual properties of the body — since the soul is by definition immortal, the body becomes the same. And the church's nonsense about immortals not having souls comes from this. This nonsense is based on a fairly understandable, albeit distorted, logic and fragments of knowledge. 

In reality, the soul of a sid differs from the soul of a human primarily in its "energy density." In my case, I became a sid primarily because my unborn relatives gave me the energy of their souls. And no, magic and ordinary Power/Mana won't help here.

Reincarnation for Sids is also different from that of humans, but much depends on the specific circumstances. For example, if a Sid dies in the Place of Power, he has a chance to be reborn! How could it be otherwise, if the body of our race is formed around the soul... The chance is more theoretical than anything else, but nevertheless. 

Otherwise, it's just normal rebirth in case of death, and not necessarily as a Sid. The same applies if death was accompanied by a burst of Soul Power: there is a chance of being born human. However, this would inevitably be as a descendant of Sids who have the ability to become Sids themselves — also more theoretical than practical. 

In general, the further we go, the more I regret the inability to contact Ker-Sidi or another city-world where the descendants of the Sids live. There must be information there... But until there is a reliable safety net, it's too dangerous... And I can't even come close to coming up with a safety net that would prevent my world from being captured.

I'm practising animagi – running around in squirrel form in the Room of Requirement. Outside? No, thanks – becoming someone's familiar or simply revealing my Second Form would be a piece of cake. And I'm slowly training myself to turn into a jay. Yes, slowly, without rushing things. I remember very well how my Second Form hit me in the head, and it's just a squirrel; a bird could hit even harder.

I stretch to the tip of my tail, enjoying every cell in my body. Being an Animagus is great after all! Words cannot describe how much your physical abilities increase. Hearing, smell... And the training is wonderful — half an hour of running and jumping in the body of a flying squirrel works all the muscles perfectly. Especially since I got a good form: small and nimble animals don't add much strength to the human form, but their reaction and flexibility...

 "Today we begin a new section of transfiguration," announced Albus Dumbledore, who teaches transfiguration to first- to fifth-year students. "It's called transformation. Who knows how it differs from transfiguration?"

Rita Lacey raises her hand, almost jumping up and down. There she is... the nerd. She seems to be studying at Ravenclaw, so she should understand that almost anyone who opens the textbook and reads the chapters ahead can answer such a question — that is, any "Raven." But go figure... What kind of "cockroaches" are in her head?

 "Transformation differs from transfiguration in that it changes the form but not the essence or volume of the object being changed," she droned, sniffing with her long nose, "that is, you can make a hatchet or a knife out of a metal hammer, but not a needle, because it has a different volume and mass, and not slippers, because the essence of the original object is different.

 "Very good, my girl," Albus praised the red-haired swot affectionately, making her blush with pleasure. 

 Damn... does she even understand that this kind of treatment is humiliating? Dumbledore is not her relative, not her fiancé, not her teacher... a school teacher and a personal teacher are very different... And this kind of treatment puts her in a deliberately subordinate position, influencing not only her psyche, but also her Power. What did you expect? Magic and the subconscious are closely linked, so if Rita accepts a subordinate position, then her magic adapts... It's like "The Raven," they explained to her... but if her school teacher or head boy pays attention to her, that's it, she's done for. She's the perfect target for some cult. 

 If she were even half-blood, she would have been taken out of school long ago, brainwashed and left to study at home, then married off at around... She would already be married by now, with such willpower and such a desire to obey, they wouldn't let her leave Manor — she would be having children and doing housework. But since she's a Muggle-born... At best, she'll end up as some kind of secretary-mistress-servant to a powerful fifth-year wizard. And marriage or at least children... oh, hardly... And in the worst case... such people often end their lives on the altar — in the name of the Common Good, concentrated in a specific leader of a specific sect.

Albus ranted a little about transformation and transfiguration, shaking his reddish beard, then gave specific tasks.

 "So, no formulas are used in transformation, only Will and Power are needed. This is quite enough for more or less simple actions. In transfiguration, however, this is impossible.

With these words, he took out his wand and tapped the hammer. It spread out like a puddle of mercury and obediently flowed into an intricate hatchet, reminding me of an Indian tomahawk. Ah yes, his mother was from there!

We all started poking it, and I decided not to hide my control and repeated the teacher's actions.

 "Very good, ma... Mr. Tally," Albus praised me.

 "Sir, I know this section very well.

 "Hmm? Dumbledore stared at me, his whole expression expressing doubt. Not nice, by the way — if I were older, it could have been a challenge to a duel. But as it was... I silently poked with my wand, and the hammer flowed under it, turning into a hatchet, then a saw, then a knife.

 "I have good control and imagination.

 "Hmm... so you're using normal transfiguration... All right, Mr. Tally. I can see that you have mastered the material, and so that you don't get bored in class and confuse the other students, I am exempting you from Transfiguration lessons until the end of winter. We will be studying transformation all that time, and you don't need those lessons.

 "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore, sir," and I gather my bag.

This was not an exceptional case — if a student had a marked talent for a particular subject, they could be offered the opportunity to study it with older students. Or, as in my case, when I was average at transfiguration (which meant I couldn't be sent to the older students) but good at transformation, I was simply exempted from lessons. Many took advantage of this, studying certain sections in advance to free up time for other things. Am I afraid to demonstrate good control, even though I show very average results in charms and transfiguration (ordinary)? No, because pure-bloods often have some kind of imbalance. For example, the Potters are artefactors, hence their amazing talent for transfiguration, and for charms. On the other hand, they are weak fighters, as are spellcasters and ritualists. Blackies are strong combat mages, necromancers, and ritualists. True, they are also quite strong in charms and transfiguration, but... they pay for this with a less than adequate psyche. 

 So it was my turn to demonstrate some differences, and these differences had to be understandable. Sooner or later, I had to show my "bias." For this, I chose runes, arithmancy, and numerology, deciding to take the OWLs exam in these subjects this year. Combined with the transformation I have demonstrated, this results in a fairly pronounced talent for construction — a valuable skill. Or I could take up some specific areas of artefact creation.

 The most important thing is that the "ancestral" talents I've "emphasised" are at odds with my real ones — that is, mentalism and rituals, and witchcraft doesn't really go well with them either... So later, when everyone accepts the "emphasised" talents as a given, I'll be able to use my real ones much more boldly... 

At the beginning of spring, I started attending transfiguration classes again, and on the first weekend of spring, I went to take the OWLs. The commission met several times a year, and those who wanted to take the exam adjusted their schedules accordingly. The service was not cheap — fifteen galleons per exam, regardless of whether you passed or failed. This was a lot of money, so most Muggle-borns and poor pure-bloods took their exams at Hogwarts after their fifth and seventh years, when they were free.

 "Well, are you ready?" the dean asked me rhetorically and, without waiting for an answer, said, "Let's go." 

On the way, I was followed by curious glances — although early exams in some subjects were not particularly rare, they were not particularly frequent either. 

Spring in Scotland... or rather, in the manor house attached to the castle in Scotland, is quite windy and damp. It seems warm enough, but the dampness combined with the piercing wind and mud squelching underfoot is not pleasant. Reaching the edge of the anti-apparition shield, Malfoy takes me by the hand and we apparate. 

 "Phew," I exhale, appearing in front of the Ministry.

I lie: I don't actually have anything against apparition, it's just another "brick" in the wall of Defence. The more false facts I reveal about myself, the easier it will be to act later. There, I "replaced" my "Ancestral Gifts," here, I have a dislike for apparition, there, I supposedly have a preference for certain foods... A mask.

The high commission treated me with hostility and indifference — they didn't like upstarts, especially if they didn't belong to "their own kind." But then they're no longer upstarts, they're "young talents"...

 "Rovena Black," nodded the beautiful fifteen-year-old girl sitting in line, "home schooling, Slytherin."

 "Robert John Tally, Hogwarts, OWLs.

A raised eyebrow, and the conversation began. Rowena may have been a Black, but she was from the younger branch. I sniffed cautiously... yes, she was a necromancer. And it looks like she's been at it since early childhood. It happens — a talent that's so obvious needs an outlet. That's probably why she didn't go to school.

We started talking mainly because we were the youngest in the queue. Somehow, it turned out that young people take their exams at Hogwarts, even if they were educated at home. Here, it's mostly older people who don't have any special talents. Or just people from particularly unsociable families. 

 "Robert John Tally, the commission is waiting for you," the clerk called me, leaning out of the doorway. I nodded to the girl and went in.

I passed arithmetic and numerology quickly...

 "Pick a ticket, you have half an hour to solve it.

 "Hmm... you can answer right away.

 "What, you don't even need to do the calculations?

 "Yes, it's all very simple!

They keep giving us new tickets, new ones... Gradually, we all got carried away and in the end I passed the exam in arithmetic, numerology and runes...

 "Not bad... colleague," said Old Horny Biggs (yes, that's his official nickname, but only among "his own" or "behind his back"), a well-known Master of Runes, kindly. "What are you going to specialise in?

 "Manor protection and artefact creation, I haven't decided yet. 

 "Well, yes, yes... both professions are very interesting, so I understand you," Bigs' wrinkled face breaks into a surreal smile, the other members of the Commission listen to our dialogue with bated breath, "Have you thought about using protective artefacts for manors?

 "I thought about it, Master Bigs," I sigh dreamily, " but it's not entirely up to me, so I haven't decided yet. 

Understanding nods and glances — Rod's doing, I guess.

 "Well, colleague, you passed all your exams with flying colours. I would even say that if Hogwarts needs an assistant or even a teacher for the lower grades, you are well qualified for the position.

We bow and I leave completely happy: first, I passed, and second, the Mask is almost complete. Soon, all of Albion will know me as an exceptionally intelligent runologist. And runologists have such a reputation that only those who are desperate would storm their homes, estates or manors... but at the same time, they are not expected to have any serious abilities in other fields. Another amusing effect is that runologists are considered incapable of intrigue. They say they are intelligent, but their brains are wired differently. I myself believed this in the past/future, until I came face to face with the guild... Well, of course — they are natural mathematicians and chess players — how could they not be! How much effort they put into making others believe this...

A rather unexpected consequence was that the letter I received contained the results (all "Ps", of course!) not only in numerology, arithmetic and runes, but also in... astronomy. It turns out that while solving problems and arguing with Biggs, I also demonstrated my knowledge of astronomy... It's nice... and unpleasant at the same time — I slipped up, because of my childish (my body is childish, and I'm also a sid, i.e. childishness still comes through despite my intellectual age) restlessness, I slipped up a little. Or not slightly?

 "A FROG!? You're so cool," exclaimed Formik, who met me at the entrance. I spread my arms...

 "I didn't even realise how cool I was.

We laugh, but... my position as "Equal Among the First" has strengthened, and now there is not even a hint of my age among the "Crows." 

And I got my revenge on the administration for banning the puppet club. Yodelling is a famous and rather... specific type of singing. Even professionals find it difficult to master. And when someone who can't sing tries it... In short, music lover Dumbledore was in a bad mood from mid-March until the end of the school year. Yodelling took root at the school.

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