Chapter 37
Percy Weasley strutted proudly as he led the way to the Headmaster’s Tower, while I trailed behind him, pondering. What could Dumbledore possibly want from me? I simply haven’t had time to screw up or cause trouble yet; it’s only been a week! Maybe McGonagall complained to the old man about Hermione and me possessing an arsenal? I have permits for almost everything, but the Dean hasn’t seen explosives or landmines. Or maybe the old man summoned me because of the Marauder’s Map? But Potter used it without any problem in the movies… It’s all so strange.
My hands took on a life of their own from nervousness, trying to discreetly adjust my suicide belt under my robe. Where did I get it from? I made it myself; if Mom finds out, she’ll definitely beat me up. This wardrobe staple turned out to be easy to make: I sewed extra pockets onto my vest and stuffed five kilograms of plastic explosive into them, then connected the whole thing with copper wires with detonators on the ends. And to increase the destructive power, I added half a kilo of finely chopped silver plates. I’m not afraid of death, but before I leave, I’ll slam the window loudly. Even though Black said the director would never mess with a child’s mind, he’s a master of mental magic, and I’d rather die than let someone mess with my head. I keep a wired mechanical detonator in my left pocket; before entering the office, I’ll clutch it in my hand. The moment I release the lever, nothing will remain of the director’s tower.
I wore my suicide belt under my ceremonial robe and told Percy it wasn’t appropriate to go to the headmaster’s office in a regular jumper. He nodded solemnly and sent me off to change, which I took advantage of: I strapped on my vest, my machine gun, and grabbed a couple of white phosphorus grenades (just in case). I also managed to call my mother and let her know the headmaster had summoned me. She reassured me that Dumbledore wasn’t stupid and wouldn’t do anything illegal to me, but she insisted that I call her from the Wonderphone before entering the office. Mom and Alucard would be listening attentively to our conversation, and our ancient Little Red Riding Hood would definitely be there in time to help.
I haven’t quite decided yet how to feel about Dumbledore. On the one hand, he’s a cynical politician and involved in many dirty dealings, but on the other… Dark always spoke highly of the old man and considered him a principled and good man. Yes, Dumbledore’s hands are covered in blood up to his elbows, if not his ears, but that’s just how things worked out. In short, the Hogwarts headmaster is a very contradictory figure, so one must be extremely careful. Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t even notice how we approached a huge stone statue of an ugly gargoyle. Odd, I thought it was a different sculpture in the movie… Oh, never mind.
“Sweet Bubaleh!” Weasley said the password pompously, coming very close to the statue.
“Acknowledged!” the gargoyle replied, stepping aside as smoothly as if alive. I looked at the statue again: its fangs and claws gleamed like metal, a very strong and dangerous guardian.
Stepping aside, the stone gatekeeper revealed a narrow spiral staircase. Percy moved first, and I followed, tapping the screen of the Wonderphone in my right pocket. The magical gadget vibrated briefly, indicating that my mother had picked up the phone and was now listening attentively to what was happening around me. As soon as I stepped onto the step, the staircase immediately began to move, a sort of magical escalator. Half a minute later, the steps stopped, and Weasley politely knocked on the varnished wooden door and promptly opened it.
The director’s office was very spacious, flooded with light through numerous small semicircular windows, and clearly designed to create a particular impression on guests. To the left of the door were several bookcases, their glass doors enclosing a series of ancient tomes and scrolls, a miniature library of sorts. The wall to the right was hung haphazardly with lifelike portraits in antique frames, whose occupants were now examining me attentively. The center of the office was occupied by several large round tables, now filled with various silver and glass trinkets that quietly jingled, ticked, clicked, or released small clouds of steam, creating a measured background noise. Directly opposite the entrance stood a massive wooden desk with legs shaped like claws. The director himself sat, there’s no other way to describe it, on a golden throne, and two brown leather chairs and a small, soft sofa were reserved for guests.
…where Sirius Black sat, legs crossed and languidly smoking a cigar. At the sight of this creature, my left hand gripped the detonator so tightly that my nails dug into my palm. In my mind’s eye, I could already picture myself torturing him in the basement of Hellsing Manor. Cranking up my Occlumency to the max, I proudly raised my head and smiled politely at Dumbledore.
“Good morning, Headmaster, I’ve brought Miss Hellsing.” Percy bowed his head respectfully.
“Thank you, Mr. Weasley, you may go,” Dumbledore nodded importantly in response, “you don’t have to wait, I’m sure Miss Hellsing will find her way back.”
“Hello, Director,” I greeted the old man with a forced smile and stepped aside a little, letting our class leader through to the exit.
“Miss Hellsing, I’ve invited you here to resolve an important matter,” the Headmaster said as soon as the door closed behind Weasley. “He’s quite sensitive, and you have every right to refuse, but…”
“Hello, daughter! I’ve been looking for you for so long!” Dumbledore was interrupted by Sirius, who had jumped up from his seat. Now he was looking at me with a kind and joyful smile, and for added effect, he even opened his arms for a hug, the flea-bitten bitch.
I eyed this man with distaste: tall, eyes almost blue, black curly hair down to his shoulders, a handsome, well-bred face, and a light stubble. In short, the sight of such men makes many girls’ hearts skip a beat. Junkrat was dressed in a black three-piece suit with a white shirt and a red-brown striped tie. I noticed runic tattoos on his neck and arms. It wasn’t hard to figure out what they were for, but they most likely had something to do with combat and defense. Due to the cost, few martial artists can afford such useful body art, which can strengthen the body, improve reaction time, and much more. It’s definitely worth exploring this issue during the holidays.
I strained my empathy: despite his kind smile, Sirius reeked of disgust, anticipation, and greed, while the director exuded a strange interest mingled with amusement. Okay, stop staring, I need to say something.
“Headmaster, I’m sorry, but that jerk can’t be my father,” I said politely to Dumbledore, and Sirius started coughing, choking on the smoke from his cigar.
“Albus! The girl’s just scared! She doesn’t understand how lucky she is that I finally found her!” The Headmaster winced slightly at such familiarity. “A family of renegades and traitors simply frightened the child!”
“If you insult my family again, you’ll deeply regret it!” I looked defiantly at Black and then turned my gaze to the old man: “Director, why did this man decide that he was my father?”
“Let’s calm down, sit down, and discuss everything over a cup of tea.” The director pointed to a chair for me and the sofa for Black, then snapped his fingers dramatically, and four cups of fragrant, hot tea appeared on the table. “Miss Hellsing, Minerva will bring another student now, and I will tell you everything.”
Flea-faced sat silently on the sofa, crossed his legs, and began studying me. I took the chair farthest from him, where the director levitated the porcelain cup intended for me with a single gesture. I could only nod politely and take it, but the poison-detection ring didn’t react, so I took a small sip of the aromatic beverage. And the tea really was excellent, thanks to Grandpa.
After five minutes of tense silence, there was a knock on the door, and McGonagall entered the office with Potter. The boy immediately ran to hug Sirius, and the Deputy Headmistress announced her arrival. Potter ended up sitting on the sofa, hugging Black, and McGonagall stood next to them, glaring at her superior with devotion.
“So, allow me to explain the reason we’re all gathered here.” The Director looked closely at his deputy. “Minerva, everything I say now must remain within the confines of my office. The information is private and a family secret, is that clear?”
“I understand.” While McGonagall nodded like a bobblehead, Dumbledore waved his wand, and all the people depicted in the magical portraits fell asleep.
“I suppose everyone has already noticed that Miss Hellsing bears a striking resemblance to the Black sisters?” Everyone present nodded, and Dumbledore continued. “Mr. Black came to see me this morning. He claims that Miss Hellsing is his daughter and Mr. Potter’s sister.”
“Impossible! My mother is Integra Hellsing, period!” I addressed everyone present.
“Please don’t interrupt,” McGonagall shook her head disapprovingly.
“Thank you, Minerva. I’ll start from afar: few people remember, but Lily Evans gave birth to twins; the boy was named Harry and the girl was named Rigel.” Dumbledore looked at me carefully. “When I brought you your letter from Hogwarts, Lady Integra honestly admitted to me that she had adopted you. So Mr. Black could very well be your father.”
“But Albus! How is that possible? The children were born at the same time!” McGonagall was indignant. “The whole school knew Potter was dating Evans! And at St. Mungo’s, she confirmed that James was the father of her children.”
“Quiet, calm down.” The headmaster held out his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Mr. Black told me they had a triad. James and Sirius loved Lily equally, and she loved them back. So the three of them spent nights full of love and passion. Such things are possible, and if a girl loves two men equally, she can give birth to twins, and the children may have different fathers.”
“What debauchery!” McGonagall blushed, and Black broke into a lewd grin. Harry looked at me thoughtfully.
“I agree that Harry is my brother, but my father’s name was James.” I glared at Black, whose satisfied face had lost its smile. “Would it be easier to finish her off so she doesn’t suffer? You abandoned me with words like that, you creature! I remember everything, and I can’t have anything in common with a scumbag like you.”
“What are you doing, girl! You can’t remember that!” Sirius jumped up from the couch and stared at me. “You’re Lily and I’s daughter! You were kidnapped by the remaining Death Eaters when you were just a baby, and all these years I’ve been looking for you! Our whole family never lost hope that one day we’d find you and bring you back to your family!”
Sirius stood and looked at me with a strained, affectionate smile. He was certainly a good liar, but judging by the faces of those around him… McGonagall clearly didn’t believe him, and Dumbledore was actually present in the hospital wing at the time, personally persuading the flea-bitten one not to abandon me. However, for the average person, this story seems quite plausible: evil dark wizards stole an innocent child and, with the intention of harming the white and fluffy Black family, handed me over to the Hellsings. Or maybe they actually kidnapped me on behalf of the Order of Protestant Knights.
“Fuck you! I’m not your daughter!” I pointedly turned away and looked at the headmaster. “Professor Dumbledore, the fact that I have Black features is not proof. Potters often intermarried with Blacks.”
“Agreed. That’s why I invited you.” The old man nodded solemnly and smoothed his beard. “There’s a special potion for determining kinship, developed in 1856 by the French master potioneer Ambroise the Amorous. This famous wizard had one hundred and seventeen bastards, and a potion test showed that, unfortunately, they were all his children. Professor Prince has a small supply of this potion, and he’s on his way up to my office just now.”
“Professor Dumbledore, I can refuse, right?” The Headmaster nodded contentedly. “Very well, then I will prove to you that Harry is my brother, and I consider mixing my blood with the filth that flows in Black’s veins an insult.”
“You naughty girl!” Sirius jumped up and immediately sat back down, it was clear that some force was literally pressing him into the sofa.
“Mr. Black, insult my student in my office again , and I’ll throw you out.” Under Dumbledore’s stern gaze, the flea-bitten one shut up, but continued to glare at me. “We need to end this circus quickly, or my left arm is starting to go numb.”
“Director, I’ve brought the potion you asked for.” The Prince entered the office quietly and silently, without knocking.
– Oh! Snivel, hi! Have you by any chance gotten too cheeky? Why are you bullying Prongs? – Sirius decided to take out his anger on his school enemy.
“Black, I’d be lying if I said I was glad to see you.” The Potions Master calmly approached the Headmaster’s desk, set down two glass vials of clear liquid, and looked at his sworn enemy with a stony face. “Has your feeble brain really been unable to come up with a new insult over all these years? Oh, yes, you have no brain, just like Mr. Potter. So, I am incapable of offending either you or your godson more than nature itself.”
– Yes, I will… – Black began to get up and fell back onto the sofa.
“Quiet! You will sort things out and bring up old grievances outside my office!” The Headmaster slammed his palm on the parchment-strewn desk and addressed Harry. “Mr. Potter, please come here. You need to take a needle and place a drop of your blood into this vessel.”
My brother silently approached the table, took the offered needle, pricked his finger, and dropped a few drops into a test tube. Sirius immediately ran up to him, wand in hand, and healed the wound—wow, what a thoughtful godfather. But I have a problem: my left hand is occupied, and I can’t discreetly reset the detonator, although… Who am I embarrassed about? They certainly aren’t going to pry into my head; the old man hasn’t even touched the surface of my thoughts this whole time, and besides, my mother is on the line. So I slowly and carefully pulled my hand out of my pocket, then snapped the safety lever back into place with my other hand and calmly put the detonator back in my pocket. Everyone present, except Dumbledore, looked at my actions with incomprehension, and the old man turned considerably pale. While I was dripping blood into the test tube, the headmaster pulled a flask from the top drawer of his desk and took a couple of convulsive sips, adding a hint of expensive cognac to the room.
“The potion turned turquoise. This means the children share a common parent.” The prince showed everyone the parchment with the table of values. I admit, I was curious myself whether any connection to Harry remained after the ritual. So Lily’s blood still lingered in my veins, which was confirmed by the potion.
“Now it’s my turn!” Sirius quickly walked up to the table and dropped a couple of drops of his blood into the second test tube, then stared at me demandingly. “Do you need a special invitation?!”
“I already told you that I consider it offensive to mix my blood with the filth that flows in your veins,” I answer Black with a smile. “I can’t be the daughter of a scumbag like you.”
“How dare you talk back to me, you naughty girl!” Sirius’s nostrils flared angrily, and his hands clenched into fists. “You’re as brazen and impudent as your Mudblood mother! I trained that red-haired slut and you…”
The headmaster’s office was filled with a loud scream, full of pain, despair, and dashed hopes. Sirius Black, clutching his arse with both hands, continued to scream in a drawn-out monotone, as if all his dreams and plans for the future had just been shattered. More precisely, he was clutching his anus, which was about to be torn to shreds.
The Fourth Unforgivable, or Analochka, as Black affectionately called it, was a reworking of an old dark curse popular among the aristocracy of the Russian Empire a couple of centuries ago. In those days, female chastity was highly prized, and the bride was required to be virginal; after the marriage, a blood-stained sheet was shown to the elder relatives. This spell, however, was specifically developed to eliminate rivals—it simply took the girls’ virginity. The effect was similar to a dildo, and since the curse was dark, restoring the hymen was impossible. This curse was also developed taking into account the fact that all female heirs were adorned with protective artifacts, like Christmas trees, so it, like Avada, easily penetrated any magical barriers.
Sergey studied the old curse in detail and redesigned it for use on any target, regardless of gender. It has no verbal component and requires a thorough knowledge of anatomy and physiology, as well as a genuine desire to inflict pain on the opponent. As a result, the curse’s victim feels as if a huge, red-hot dildo wrapped in barbed wire has been thrust into their anus. Basically, I just took Sirius Black’s anal virginity very roughly, cruelly, and without lube. His anus should be torn to shreds right now, and given the darkness of the curse, he won’t be able to sit on his butt or walk normally for a long time.
Rabinovich’s tool, instantly in my hand, returned to its place in the bracelet. Still, the old Jew’s wand felt better than Ollivander’s. I poured almost my entire reserve into the spell and now watched with pleasure as Sirius screamed in pain. Foul words must be answered for. What did you creatures do to Lily that you had to train her? Someday I will surely uncover the truth, and you will answer for everything.
“I warned you, if you insult my family again, you’ll regret it!” Everyone present looked at me. Sirius stopped yelling, and his gaze lit up with rage and malice.
“I’ll kill you!” Black continued to clutch his backside with his left hand, and with his right he pulled out his wand and pointed it straight at me, but then fell unconscious onto the soft carpet. Silence fell in the office, Dumbledore chuckled and put his magical instrument back into the sleeve of his colorful robe.
“Mr. Black definitely needs to learn to control his temper. Minerva, Severus, please take the injured man to the hospital wing,” the Headmaster addressed his subordinates and turned his gaze to my brother, who was now staring in shock at the flea-ridden monster lying on the floor. “Mr. Potter, don’t worry, I’m sure Madam Pomfrey will help your godfather. I think we’ve sorted out everything we need to know and can go about our business in peace.”
The old man looked at me and asked me to stay. Well, let’s hear what he has to say. Meanwhile, Professor Prince, with a malicious smile, approached Black and “accidentally” stepped on his wand. The dark brown piece of wood cracked pitifully and broke in half.
“Sorry, I’m getting so awkward in the presence of an old friend.” With the same malicious smile, the Potions Master apologized to those around him, then pointed his wand at the unconscious Black and, lifting his body into the air, walked towards the exit, but stopped abruptly and looked at me. “I almost forgot, thirty points to Gryffindor for a well-performed spell!”
McGonagall gave me a disapproving look but said nothing. Then she gathered up the fragments of the flea-bitten man’s wand and followed the Prince, who had “accidentally tripped” just outside the door and dropped Black’s body on the stone floor. The last to leave the office was a very thoughtful Potter, who kept glancing sideways at me.
“Miss Hellsing, I knew you didn’t trust me, but to that extent…” The Headmaster gave me a disapproving look and spoke as soon as Potter closed the door behind him. “I already understood that you aren’t afraid of death, but think about your mother, about Miss Granger—how will they react to your decision? I won’t confiscate your Mordred device if you promise not to wear it again. In the future, know that I took the Headmaster’s Oath and cannot harm my students.”
“I understand, Principal.” “Of course, you old bastard, you’re not causing any harm, you’re just not interfering! And because of your connivance, the school is in total disarray.”
“And also, I’d like to apologize to you. I didn’t think you remembered that fateful night in the hospital wing…” The old man shook his head sadly, and my empathy told me he was genuinely remorseful. “Forgive me, Miss Hellsing, if you can. I tried to convince Sirius to take you both, but he was too young and stupid… Although… He still… Back then, I ordered you to be handed over to your only relatives, but I couldn’t imagine that your aunt and uncle would turn out to be such bad people…”
“I’ve thought about this a lot… I’m not angry with you, maybe just a little, but I understand that a pathetic Squib was of no use to anyone, and you gave me to my closest mundane relatives.” I looked at the headmaster with a sweet smile. “Professor Dumbledore, who did you order to deliver me to my relatives? What is the name of that wonderful wizard who persuaded my aunt to keep me?”
“Hm…” The old man looked me over and took a sip of tea. “Unfortunately, I can’t tell you the wizard’s name yet. I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone that it was he who delivered you to the Muggles. But I hope he regrets his actions as much as I do.”
“I understand, thank you, Director.” It was worth a try, although the old man understands that as soon as he mentions the Prince’s name, he’ll have to find a new teacher and dean. “I have one idea of who else we could ask, but that’s for later.” “Can I go?”
“Of course, Miss Hellsing, I won’t keep you any longer.” The director nodded kindly at me, and I headed for the exit.
***
Albus looked thoughtfully at the closed door of his office and asked his familiar a rhetorical question.
“Fawkes, why am I surrounded by nothing but idiots?” The old man shook his head. “I told that cretin that the girl wouldn’t forgive him and wouldn’t believe his nonsense. Although she dealt him a good blow, with something family-friendly and dark. Maybe next time the dog will be a little more restrained; he’s gotten used to impunity.”
The Headmaster chuckled; he would keep the memory of the presumptuous Black’s fate in a special vial. But then Albus remembered the suicide vest the girl was wearing, and he immediately lost the laughter. Whatever anyone thought, Dumbledore kept a close eye on the wider world and regularly read Muggle newspapers, so he was perfectly aware of what this fucking crazy student had smuggled into his office. And not a single alarm had gone off! Something had to be done about this, because she could blow herself up in the Great Hall, and then… Albus shuddered at the thought of the chaos that could ensue.
It’s essential to establish contact with the girl, but how? It’s essential to take a close look at young Rigel, study her, and then find the right key to her soul and earn her trust.
Then, after visiting the Hellsings, Dumbledore took the trouble to travel to Little Whinging, where he entered the local library and, without any magic, learned the details of the horrific incident that had shocked the locals. Albus had seen much bloodshed in his long life and had even been to Auschwitz to witness the atrocities of his sworn best friend, but the photograph of a bloodied Rigel remained imprinted in his memory.
Upon arrival, Albus immediately invited a brazen Potions master into conversation, and it turned out that this idiot had threatened Petunia into taking the child. He even threatened that if she gave the girl to an orphanage, an accident would happen to her husband and son. Dumbledore was furious; if Severus hadn’t been so helpful, he would have strangled this spiteful, world-weary idiot long ago.
Sooner or later, Rigel will uncover the truth, and then… No, Dumbledore won’t stand up for this idiot. If the girl wants revenge, he won’t interfere, he’ll just hint not to do it at school. Outside the castle, though—no problem. Severus often goes out in the summer to collect rare ingredients, and anything can happen there. But that’s later; for now, it’s time to show concern and fulfill his duties as headmaster. Albus extended his hand, and a blank sheet of parchment bearing the Hogwarts crest fell before him. Taking up his quill, the headmaster began writing a letter in his ornate handwriting:
Dear Integra Hellsing!
I apologize if I’m bothering you, but as the director, I have a duty to inform you…
***
I’d barely left the headmaster’s office when I came face to face with my brother. Harry was leaning against a gargoyle, looking very serious. He looked me over again, chuckled, and motioned for me to follow him. We didn’t go far, just around the corner.
– Well, hello, little sister. – Harry grimaced sadly. – Long time no see.
“Hello, brother, I thought you’d be with your godfather.” I didn’t expect him to wait for me, but the boy suddenly didn’t give a damn about anything I said.
“You know, I’ve been told since childhood that you were dead, but I felt…” Potter touched his chest, “I always knew you were alive. When I was six, I felt so much pain, I knew it was your pain… I sincerely wanted to help you…”
– Then the Dursleys… – But Harry interrupted me again.
“When the pain went away, I realized you were no longer in danger and that you were fine. Then I began to look forward to our meeting. I dreamed of how we would live together!” My brother grinned. “How we would play Quidditch together or tease my sisters. But instead, you betrayed me!”
“What? Brother, actually, I was the one they considered a Squib,” I looked at Harry, puzzled, “I was the one they threw out like useless trash. I was the one they betrayed…”
“Our connection was broken this summer! You ‘re the one who broke it!” My brother pointed a finger at me. “All you had to do was wait until Hogwarts, and then Padfoot would have taken you to Grimmauld Place! We would have lived like one big family! But you chose that platinum bitch over Sirius and me! You chose to be Corona’s errand dog instead of the destiny of a true witch! You betrayed me!”
– Brother, are you by any chance out of your fucking mind? Do you know what I had to go through? While you were sleeping soundly on a soft bed, I endured pain and humiliation every day. – I came close to my brother and spoke quietly. – When I was six, the Dursleys crossed the line, and I killed them, gaining freedom. Then there was the orphanage from which my mother took me. This woman took me in and raised me as her own daughter. She loves me, I know it… Remember, brother, my family is Hellsing!
– That’s what I’m talking about! – Harry pushed me away. – That damned bitch and that bunch of traitors are more important to you than your own brother and father!
“He’s not my father! Remember that once and for all!” My hands clenched into fists. “And don’t you dare insult my mother and the Order! They, unlike the wizards, didn’t betray me!”
“Your godfather was right, they brainwashed you and turned you against your family.” Potter looked at me defiantly. “You’ve become just like that platinum bitch…”
My fist didn’t let him finish; I hit him hard in the face with a right. Harry was thrown back against the wall by the blow and sat on his butt. He looked at me in shock and disbelief, then ran his hand over his broken face. Potter scooped up some blood and examined it in surprise, then turned his gaze full of hatred on me.
“You’ll regret this, little sister.” Harry took out a handkerchief and dabbed it at his nose. “You had a chance to return to your family, but you chose a platinum who… Ugh…”
“Don’t you dare insult my family!” I grabbed Potter by the throat and looked straight into his eyes, so familiar and yet so alien. “Remember! First, it was Black who betrayed me, and he is not my father! Second, if you insult my mother or the Order again, I will cripple you. Third, I have nothing against you; when you start thinking for yourself, then we’ll talk.”
I dropped my bloody, terrified brother on the floor and walked away without looking back. My insides seethed with anger—did that mean I was the traitor? Did Harry seriously think I should have abandoned my mother and run to Sirius like a happy little dog? So that the Blacks could then sell me for a profit on the bride market? They were the ones who threw me out, it was because of them that I lived through my own personal hell! I will never forget this! Don’t like that I’m a Hellsing? Just try to speak out against my family! Woe to the nations who rise up against my people: the Almighty Creator will take vengeance on them on the Day of Judgment, sending fire and worms upon their bodies, and they will feel pain and cry forever. You will regret it!
“Rigel! Rigel Integra Hellsing! Pull yourself together immediately!” It was like lightning struck me; my mother’s voice from my pocket brought me back to my senses. I looked around and realized I was in an unfamiliar wing of the castle. There were no students or living portraits in sight, so I pulled the Miraclephone from my pocket and looked into worried blue eyes.
“Mom, I’m fine. I just freaked out…” I made puppy eyes.
“You need to be more restrained and cool-headed, your hot-bloodedness will get the better of you one day.” The platinum blonde on the screen sighed sadly and shook her head. “I heard everything. I’ll send a message to the Blacks, and if they don’t calm down, then… Hellsing’s enemies don’t live long.”
– What do you think should be done with my brother? He sincerely believes that I betrayed him. – Maybe Mom can suggest something useful.
“Just ignore this spoiled idiot, the time will come and he will understand everything, and if not…” Mom tilted her head to the side. “Ask yourself, is he really dear to you? What connects you?”
– Almost nothing, just a couple of childhood memories… Just… – But really! What connects me with this insolent rich kid? Why am I so upset? Probably because Potter reminded me of our connection and accused me of betrayal. Fuck that asshole, if he says anything again, I’ll break his arm.
“Now I see you’ve calmed down,” Mom smiled contentedly. “I have an important meeting today, I hope it will shed some light on Lily Evans’s past. For now, go to Hermione and occupy your mind with something else. You’ll be home in a couple of weeks, and we’ll discuss everything there.”
“Okay, Mom, I get it. See you tonight!” Integra nodded back and hung up.
I looked around the unfamiliar corridor again, I needed to get out of here.
