Fall in love in a weekwe get by

Judging by the indifferent look that the professor who appeared a minute later gave me, and the absence of malicious comments, I was not mistaken in anything. Even though the upcoming banquet depresses him more than Charlotte's company. a luxurious black tuxedo and a snow-white shirt only further emphasized his gloomy mood.

“Let’s go,” he said briefly and opened the portal, letting me go forward.

I took a step and fell knee-deep into the water. My foot became slippery and I waved my arms, trying to regain my balance, but in vain. There was no support.

The clutch flew off into the unknown. Time stretched out. I fell with a loud and absolutely obscene scream – and could not do anything. Just yell.

But they didn’t let me crash.

“What the…” the professor appeared just in time. Instead of an epic fall into the water, or even onto the rocks, they lifted me up, and then grabbed me around the waist. The situation was precarious – it seemed that he, too, was struggling to stay on his feet. – The devil is going on here!

“This is not Edinburgh,” I stated the obvious.

We stood in the middle of an endless swamp, gloomy, overgrown with patchy grass, with rare pools of open water. Signs of human presence included low, sometimes collapsed fences made of granite boulders, and sheep grazing on the hillside in the distance. The Grimpen bog, and that’s all, except that the Hound of the Baskervilles is missing.

I hope we don't drown here.

“You are amazingly observant,” it should have sounded with the usual sarcasm, but it seemed that Dr. Norwood was too puzzled by what had happened. And the warmth coming from his palms blurred the impression. He held me tightly, as if he was afraid that without his help I would instantly be sucked in.

– Professor? How about you let me go and open the portal again?

– If you don’t plan to perform aerobatic maneuvers here again, I’ll do so. I don’t have the slightest desire to fish you out of the quagmire by your hair.

He actually tried to open the portal. And for this he didn’t need to let me go at all, just hold me with one hand instead of two. But nothing came of it. After the first attempt, the air in front of us thickened and there was a noticeable smell of ozone. After the second, a silent lightning tore the sky, struck a dry tree nearby, and it burst into flames. I imagined what would have happened if this discharge had hit the water in which we were standing. I wanted to climb into the professor’s arms.

He extinguished the tree with one careless stroke. He said thoughtfully:

– Magic is listening. Portals – no. What's happening? Portal system failure? Almost unbelievable. But probably.

Was it imaginary, or was there actually research enthusiasm in his voice? Well, if so, I understood him – this problem is probably more interesting than the sugary drudgery that awaited us in Edinburgh. But it’s better to deal with any problem without knee-deep mud and the risk of drowning in a swamp!

I wonder if I can levitate? I wish I could fly… well, at least to that hill with the sheep. Sit on the grass and let the professor do his research. I can even help as much as I can.

I imagined myself soaring upward. Uselessly. Either the power of imagination needed to be supported by something more significant, or the local magic was not mature enough to defeat gravity.

Charlotte did not respond to the mental call. It's probably better not to rely on her help. When was the last time she appeared? While talking to Maskelyne? No, after. But she left me in the director’s office without warning. She has her own ideas about when I need her and when I don’t.

Dr. Norwood, meanwhile, also practiced magic. And he did much better. At first, the swamp around us was covered with a thin film of ice. Then, for some reason, large leathery leaves spread out on it, and a second later they were covered with something resembling forget-me-nots. But they immediately disappeared, and in front of me stretched a wooden flooring made of planed boards, which even smelled like freshly cut wood. And it also dissipated almost immediately. Either the professor canceled the spells, or…

– Anomalous zone. Near Edinburgh? Where? Ms. Blair, if I were you, I'd focus on making shoes that fit. We'll have to walk.

I didn’t know how to create shoes, whether they were suitable or not. A short immersion in herself – in search of the necessary spell, or gesture, or whatever it was that could turn shoes into waders in Charlotte's memory – brought only a nagging pain in her temples. Surely Charlotte knew how to do this, she should have been able to do this. But not me.

“I can’t concentrate,” I squeezed out, hoping that this explanation would be enough. And at that moment, as if ordered, something dug into my leg. I squealed and kicked, splashes flew up, the professor’s grip became tighter.