I made strong black coffee, poured crackers onto the saucer and unfolded the top leaf. Well what can I say. Beautiful, catchy, stylish. Bright colors, fairly thick paper, good layout. It's nice to hold it in your hands. As for the content… The very first ad made me choke.

“An experienced magician-ritualist provides advice on creating individual rituals.”

What is this, you ask? A hint from the universe? Sign of fate? But Sabella argued that no ritualists would help in my case, although she promised to still find someone for consultation. We need to show her. I could hardly resist not immediately hiding the piece of paper in my purse. It’s better to ask permission, at least out of politeness.

I looked at my watch – forty minutes left until the end of the class. For now, I’ll read what else the universe offers…

“Recharging amulets, updating enchantments, enchanting objects of any complexity from scratch on a turnkey basis.” Will it be useful or not? Ask Charlotte if any charms in the house need updating? The gaze darted across the sheet chaotically, drawn to the bright frames. The most ordinary “buy-sell-search” side by side with the same “buy-sell-search”, but completely incredible for the world I was familiar with. In fact, “I’ll buy a piano inexpensively” or “I’ll give away a crib for half the price”, and next…

“A young female pointy-eared manticore is looking for a boy to mate with. Red color, excellent pedigree, exhibition diplomas.” Brrr… I can just see an exalted lady in stiletto heels, embarrassed to say the words “male” and “bitch.” And it doesn’t matter that it’s not a collie or a Doberman, but a manticore – breeders in all worlds are probably the same. So, if you suddenly need a manticore on your farm, don’t look here.

“A nanny with a quick response is urgently needed. The child is 3 years old and has learned to open portals.” Hmmm, what else is this? Sweeping across the ad in black ink. “For the child – a nanny, for the mother – brains!”

I rushed to the professor's desk. Somewhere here lay his work diary… No, I don’t have the bad habit of rummaging through other people’s notes, although sometimes it can be very useful. But look at the handwriting…

Yes. Exactly. Although I could be sure: behind the short but very poisonous note, the intonations of Doctor Norwood could be heard. Well, well… Some people have fun with crossword puzzles, but the professor seems to be resting his brains on free advertisements? I understand – you won’t find anything there!

She put the diary back in its place, adjusted it so that it lay just as smoothly, strictly parallel to the edge of the table, and returned to the newspaper. Absentmindedly, she took a sip of the cooled coffee.

"Required! Part-time necromancer. Flexible schedule. Contact the caretaker of Kensington Cemetery." Brrr… Indeed, there’s so much you won’t find! It turns out there are necromancers here too? Although… Sabella said that they tried to accuse Dougal of trying to raise zombies. So this is basically real?! Oh, mommies. It seems that I somehow didn’t fully understand where I was headed.

The note in the same black ink in Dr. Norwood’s sharp handwriting: “there are no places for new dead, it’s time to disperse the old ones” did not make me laugh at all. Who knows, maybe it’s true!

But now I began to look through the sheet purposefully in search of announcements that attracted the professor’s attention and received his special valuable opinion. There were few such people, and not everywhere did the “especially valuable opinion” ooze poison.