Chapter 46
The Goldstein family had always been very wealthy and numerous, owning three jewelry stores in the very center of Odessa and a dozen workshops, but everything changed with the advent of the war. The German advance was rapid, and the Nazis soon captured the city. As the Wehrmacht advanced further east, SS units arrived. Odessa had always had a large Jewish population, and according to the doctrine of the Third Reich, there was no place for inferior races in the New World. Therefore, Jewish children and the elderly were killed on the spot, and the rest were driven westward to death camps.
Of the entire large Goldstein family, only four brothers survived the grueling journey and were sent to the Dachau concentration camp. All of them were witches, which is why they survived—the body of a squib or wizard is much stronger than that of an ordinary person.
The boys endured hunger, torture, inhumane experiments, and forced labor, but they did not break or surrender. When the advance units of the Imperial troops entered Munich, a revolt broke out in the camp, one of the organizers of which was Isaak Makarovich Goldstein, with his brothers acting as messengers. The emaciated prisoners’ goal was not escape, but rather the seizure of the camp administration building and archives, so that the whole world would learn of the atrocities committed there. They also wanted to tell everyone about the strange men in black robes who regularly appeared on the camp grounds and took people away.
The uprising began at four in the morning and was successful. The Germans were already preparing to evacuate, and some of the officers had already fled the camp. Therefore, they paid virtually no attention to the prisoners, carrying out the commandant’s orders: install gas canisters near the barracks and destroy all documentation.
The rebels practically overwhelmed the sappers who were mining the gas tanks, thus obtaining weapons. The prisoners then managed to seize the administration building containing the archives and radio station. Several radio operators were found among the prisoners; they managed to contact the British and request assistance.
An hour later, heavy Churchill tanks and two companies of British paratroopers entered the Dachau camp. Upon seeing the Imperial soldiers, the Nazis threw down their weapons and began to surrender, and by evening, Colonel Barrett gave the order to execute all the Nazis, a order unanimously supported by the soldiers. When the soldiers saw the piles of corpses, gas chambers, crematoria, and laboratories, no one remained indifferent; many even turned gray. The British were particularly impressed by the medical unit, where children’s blood was drained for further shipment to German military hospitals. On January 20, 1946, at 10:00 PM, the entire staff of the Dachau death camp was burned alive in Crematorium No. 7.
There were too many liberated prisoners, more than ten thousand sick, exhausted, and weakened. Some were placed in nearby hospitals, but there wasn’t enough space, so the former prisoners were sent in trainloads to France, the USSR, and the British Empire. Thus, four Odessa Jews ended up in Norfolk, from where they moved to London.
Having recovered somewhat and read the imperial laws, the boys immediately joined the army – the Goldsteins had no one left back home, so they decided to obtain British citizenship. By that time, the Great War had already ended, but mass uprisings had broken out in the colonies, and there was plenty of work for everyone. According to an unspoken rule, siblings are not separated in the army, so the Goldsteins were sent to the 3rd Assault Division of the Afrika Korps. Over three years, the Jews earned numerous awards (the eldest even received the Distinguished Service Medal), and upon completion of their service, they were offered officer training and an extension of their contract, but the brothers declined. The Goldsteins returned to the mother country as full citizens of the British Empire, having earned their right with sweat and blood.
The brothers then went on to education, and six years later, in 1956, their first jewelry store, “The Golden Lamb,” opened on the outskirts of London. The Jews proved to have a business acumen like a bulldog; they quickly overwhelmed their competitors and began rapidly expanding. By 1981, the former Odessans already had two dozen large stores across the Empire, and they had even opened their own jewelry factory. Incidentally, almost all the raw materials were mined at deposits in Africa owned by the Goldsteins themselves—a diamond mine and two gold mines. These savvy comrades also obtained permission through the House of Lords to create their own private military company to protect businesses in the colonies.
Over the course of thirty years, all the Odessa brothers had found wives, and now the family was a large, unified clan, best avoided. The Goldsteins had money and connections, which they actively exploited, but, to their credit, they never broke their agreements or deceived their partners. However, those who stood in their way or were unwilling to negotiate… During their service, the patrol squad of former prisoners had the call sign “Shiva,” after the four-armed god of death and destruction. These men proved to be quite cruel and cynical. Over the years, the Goldsteins repeatedly put the skills they had acquired to good use, but evidence was scarce, and witnesses disappeared without a trace. Therefore, this family of jewelers and industrialists was respected; it was best to befriend them.
In 1981, when the Wizarding World was in turmoil and mass court battles over power were underway, the Jews caught on and opened their jewelry store on Diagon Alley (they were witch doctors, so the Statute was not violated). The store was opened not for money, but for the sake of their grandchildren: the eldest’s magical abilities had been confirmed by healers at NI PIDOR (the Scientific Institute for Advanced Research in Diagnostics, Healing, and Rehabilitation). The Goldsteins didn’t want their children to be considered mere mudbloods in the Wizarding World, so they got busy. Predictably, problems arose at this point – the wizards were utterly displeased that pathetic Squibs had opened their squalid shop next to the boutiques of respectable pureblood wizards and decided to take over the business. But by that time, Isaac Markovich already held the title of “sir,” earned for developing the Empire’s economy and mining industry, or perhaps for the jewelry masterpieces he presented to the royal family every year—it doesn’t matter. So, the old Jew immediately pulled out all his connections and eventually found Lady Hellsing. The government ordered the Order to provide some assistance to the honest businessman and industrialist. That year, five young pure-blood families disappeared without a trace, and the Goldsteins were never touched again.
My mother told me all this as we drove to the Golden Lamb chain’s flagship store on Oxford Street. It was summer, a couple of days before a reception at the palace, and I was scheduled to appear before Her Majesty in all my glory. A special service, “evening jewelry,” was available for the imperial elite. Why buy an expensive item if you’ll only wear the necklace or earrings once? The British aristocracy didn’t like to waste money, and it was always a win for the retailers. A necklace flashed by some duchess at a gala reception was already a “thing with a history” and was worth much more. And it was free advertising; having the mighty in your store meant a lot.
We were met by Moisei Isaakovich himself; he now ran the entire family business, quite successfully, I must say. Uncle Monya, as he asked to be called, greeted us very warmly and proved to be a very pleasant man. At the store, they quickly picked out a set for me: a necklace, rings, and a tiara in white gold with emeralds, and then the jeweler lamented that he couldn’t introduce us to his son, Anthony. The name sounded familiar, and that’s how we learned he would also be attending Hogwarts. I hadn’t had the chance to speak with Goldstein in the past two months, but Uncle Monya assured us that his son would provide the Hellsing family with any support he could. There was only one condition: don’t drag the boy into any adventures; he’s allergic to them.
On Monday after dinner, Hermione and I approached the Ravenclaw table. The students who weren’t busy reading either pointedly turned away or stood up and hurried toward the exit. We no longer paid attention to this behavior. I glanced at the remaining students and quickly found the right first-year; he was the only one wearing a skullcap, with black curls sticking out from underneath.
“Good evening,” we said, approaching a slender, dark-haired boy buried in a book. “I’m Rigel Hellsing, and this is my friend Hermione Granger.”
“Oh, vey! Look, the incomparable Hellsing heiress herself and her faithful friend have honored me with a visit.” The boy stood up and nodded politely. “Anthony Goldstein, very pleased to meet you. My father has told me many pleasant stories about you. And what could such a distinguished person possibly want from a humble first-year?”
The Reikleinite smiled good-naturedly, but looked at me with extreme attention and seriousness.
“I have some business to discuss,” I say, pointing towards the exit.
“Of course.” Anthony nodded understandingly. “Goldstein is always ready to discuss business, but preferably profit. After all, if the business isn’t profitable, there’s no point in talking.”
“I’ll tell you everything when I get there.” The guy nodded again and put the book back in his robe pocket.
We left the Great Hall and quickly ascended to the sixth floor, where the twins had set up a workshop with a mini-potion room, but the space was now almost abandoned—the Weasleys had given up their experiments last year. The redheads were already waiting for us, but as soon as we entered, Goldstein frowned sharply and paused in the doorway.
– Hellsing, what are these gangsters doing here? – The Reiklein man pointed his finger at them, – I don’t want to have anything to do with these guys and I advise you not to!
“Watch your language!” One of the brothers frowned and clenched his fists.
“Shh! I’m selling you for what I bought you for!” Anthony held his hands out in a placating gesture. “You two have buried your reputations as deeply as my great-grandfather did his first wife, Rose. So don’t be surprised that respectable people don’t want to have anything to do with you!”
“Fuck, I didn’t think of that.” I shook my head sadly. These idiots aren’t exactly tolerated in the department, let alone the rest? In two years, they’ve managed to piss off the whole school with their idiotic pranks!
“Rigel, Hermione…” Anthony addressed us by name, his expression as serious as possible. “Perhaps you could start by telling us the gist of your problematic joint venture, and then we can brainstorm together?”
“You’re right. So, I have an idea…” I quickly told the Jewish boy our plan to create simple household and protective artifacts, as well as his role in this business.
“You know, I feel really bad for myself right now!” The Reikleinian folded his hands behind his back and stood in the middle of the abandoned classroom. “So, you’ve decided to open a very promising and profitable business, but I have to watch your progress through the window and exchange pounds for galleons?! I’m Goldstein, and there have never been any thieves or money changers in our family!”
“What do you want?” Fred asked sadly, his brother sitting next to him only nodded sadly.
“A share, of course!” The little Jew looked around at everyone present and settled on the twins. “I’m not doing this for nothing! If I have a share, I’ll be extremely interested in the development and prosperity of our business!”
“And how will you help us?” Hermione spoke up. She’s kind, so she was genuinely happy about my decision to help the Weasleys. “Aside from big words, do you have any real suggestions?”
“Of course!” Anthony gave a wide, theatrical smile, then continued seriously. “Besides exchanging paper money for coins, I can arrange for the supply of artifact blanks. Father can negotiate for us, and we’ll get a low price. I’ll also help with tools and supplies; we can borrow them from my family’s shop. I’m also ready to handle the accounting and balance the debits and credits, because I’m sure you’ve never heard such words before. And I’ll also be putting a lot of thought into your goods, to whom and how to sell them, and that’s the hardest part.”
– Why is that? – The twins and I said this phrase almost simultaneously.
“Don’t you understand?” The Reiklinian glanced at Hermione, who nodded sadly. “What’s wrong?” “I’m explaining for the simple-minded and those used to hitting first and asking questions later. If a descendant of Hitler opened a kosher restaurant in the center of London and called it the Holocaust, how many Jews would go there for dinner? Or if a professional saboteur and poisoner, known throughout the city, opened a healthy food store? Is that clearer?”
“Riya, he’s right. You’re feared and hated, but those,” her friend nodded toward the twins, “the whole school dislikes them. They already killed a first-year last year, and everyone knows about it.”
Fred and George drooped, their heads hanging guiltily, as if the core had been pulled out of them. The voice in their voices was so full of regret, shame, and hopelessness that I felt a little uneasy. How could I have forgotten their reputation?! And I’m no better off. The Hellsings are a family of renegades and murderers, loyal dogs of the Crown. Because of our notoriety, it’s best for students not to know we’re the creators of these things, lest they think they’re poisoned or cursed.
“It finally sinks in! How complicated it is with you goyim. While you were trying to feign thought, Anthony Goldstein had already figured it all out for you!” After making sure we were listening attentively, the first-year student continued. “I’ll be selling your products. My family owns a small jewelry store on Diagon Alley. I’ll tell you, this is a trial run, specifically designed for schoolchildren.”
“How much?” Fred asked sadly.
“I’m offering fifty-fifty,” the Jewish boy smiled contentedly.
“Don’t be so cheeky! 20%! We can find another seller or a middleman!” George, who had been silent all this time, spoke up.
– Oh yeah? There’s probably a whole line outside that door? – Anthony walked up to me theatrically and peered out the door. – It’s very strange, but my beautiful eyes didn’t see anyone there. And if that’s the case, then I’m ready to negotiate, which will end well for me.
Even I felt saddened by the little Jew’s satisfied smile, but it was too late to retreat; I had started this mess myself.
After an hour of tense negotiations that nearly devolved into a fistfight, we reached an agreement. My share was reduced to 7%, since I wouldn’t be required to do anything other than provide the artifact-making textbooks. Weasley and Goldstein each received 31%! The small Jew would handle all administrative work, including material delivery, bookkeeping, and sales of finished products. The twins would be responsible for the manufacture, development, and testing of the artifacts, and they could only test the products on themselves or on lab animals—there were plenty of rats in the castle.
To be honest, I was actually happy with the outcome. I didn’t need the money, and the headache was too much. Well, I don’t have the same business acumen as the guys, so I pretended to haggle, but I agreed. Let them handle the business themselves, and I’ll watch from the sidelines and collect my share once a month, maybe I’ll suggest something interesting.
This way, the Weasleys will get the hang of it and get used to the pounds, and after school, we’ll be able to get two apprentice artificers, unknown in the Wizarding world. Since the trade will be conducted under the Goldstein name, all the glory and fame will go to a small-time Jew. The Weasleys are unlikely to save up enough money to open a shop and pay for a license during their school years; it’s too expensive. Of course, the boys could go work for Jews, but being an equal partner or an employee is a very different matter. That’s where the Order will offer them a contract, and I think the boys will accept; the salary and conditions should suit them.
But that’s all for later, let’s not think too far ahead; it might not work out at all. Right now, I had to draw up a magical contract for our joint venture—or rather, not for me, but for Hellsing’s lawyers. The Weasleys flatly refused to sign a document drawn up by Jews, saying they were worse than goblins! And Goldstein feigned surprise that the red-haired thugs knew the alphabet and could write. So I quickly jotted down a draft, then rewrote it four times to make sure everyone was happy, and just before lights out, we all went to our respective living rooms. I didn’t think it would be so difficult.
Now I’ll tell Mom everything and go to bed. I have a ton of classes tomorrow, I still have to teach Elvira and I promised Ron a game of chess…
***
November flew by with all our busy schedules. We didn’t even pay much attention to the constant fights between the Gryffindors and Slytherins; someone regularly spent the night in the hospital wing, but the snakes got their share of trouble too. After the Hogsmeade ban, the atmosphere at school became quite tense, but the first-year students weren’t bothered, so Hermione and I calmly studied, trained, and had evening lessons with Elvira. Justin spent his free time with the nearly recovered Ron and supported his friend in every way. Fred and George received seven Artifact Science textbooks and several other reference books from me, after which they literally moved into their own lab. The Weasley twins’ absence from the common room caused alarm and apprehension in the faculty; everyone assumed the two idiots were planning another prank, and given their sense of humor… So, a week later, Percy went to storm their lab, but returned very satisfied and thoughtful, and at the same time calmed the students down. The prefect announced to everyone that his idiot younger brothers had finally come to their senses and started studying, a theory that satisfied everyone.
December arrived, and I fully experienced the Scottish winter, especially living in an ancient castle without central heating. The hallways were so fucking cold! If it weren’t for the enchanted clothes with comfort charms, I don’t know how we would have studied. In some places, the stone walls were covered in frost, and the hallways were drafty and icy windy, all because of the windows. Over hundreds of years, the wooden frames had dried out so much that my little finger could fit through the cracks! I immediately remembered my past life, when we sealed the windows every fall at the orphanage. Unfortunately, the wizards hadn’t thought of such a progressive method of insulating rooms.
Speaking of warming up, I’ve had enough today! My breath is steaming in the bedroom, and the walk from the shower to the bed is enough to freeze me. My pajamas are warm, sure, but I’m used to sleeping in just my underwear, and waking up cold is no fun. Yesterday, I found out the guys have a stove in their room that keeps the temperature quite comfortable. So, my friend and I headed to the caretaker’s office. They packed me a few heaters that run on magic, but they were just enough for the base of operations. We’ll also stop by the twins’ house; it’s already the fifth, and the promised amulets and hot water bottles still haven’t arrived! There was even a diagram in the textbooks; I wanted to know the reason for the delay.
We descended to the sixth floor and, knocking politely, entered. An intriguing scene greeted us: Goldstein sat in a soft chair, drinking something hot from a thermos, while the bedraggled Weasleys painted small wooden blocks with brushes. These were the amulets-warmers themselves; the boys had used blanks sold in artifact shops as a basis. Wooden blocks measuring three by ten centimeters were impregnated with a special compound; all that remained was to apply the desired rune chain, and the primitive artifact was ready. Such crafts were very inexpensive, as they were the first step in training future craftsmen, but they were also short-lived; they lasted only a few months before the amulet completely crumbled into dust.
– Hello everyone! – I greeted cheerfully.
– What are you doing? – Mia looked at the dejected twins with interest.
A disgruntled red-haired stereo answered us:
– And what?
– Can’t you see?
– Let’s paint!
– Ready artifacts!
– We could sell them already!
“Come on! It’s your own fault!” Anthony said. “Hey, girls. Those idiots almost buried our business, they even managed to dig a grave! If it weren’t for me, we’d be left without pants and begging!”
“What happened?” I walked up to the twins and picked up a piece of wood covered in runes from the table. My touch warmed the artifact slightly, and the air around me became noticeably warmer. It works; the twins did a great job.
– Rigel, what do you see? – The Reikleinian looked at me carefully.
“An artifact created with the help of runic magic,” I shrugged, “it works, by the way.”
“Well, yes, everything works.” Hermione also picked up a piece of wood from the table and examined it carefully. “The runes are carved evenly and neatly, done conscientiously.”
“Is this design difficult to replicate?” We shook our heads, and then realized what Anthony meant. “Exactly! The holidays are coming soon, and some scoundrel will buy some blanks at Diagon Alley and copy our masterpiece of artifact making! That’s why I ordered a special paint that will hide the runic design from prying eyes and prevent them from stealing our money.”
– When do you plan to start selling it and at what price? – I gave the wooden block to Fred, and the guy immediately applied a thick layer of purple paint with a brush.
– We’ll start sales tomorrow!
– The paint will just dry!
– Seven Galleons apiece! Ugh! You’ve got it! – Goldstein feigned indignation and turned to us. – Girls, I think those guys bit me!
At that moment, his hair turned red, and Fred clicked his teeth dramatically and, laughing, put his wand up his sleeve. We couldn’t help but laugh too. After about five minutes, everyone calmed down, and after saying goodbye to our business partners, we headed to the caretaker’s office.
– Good day, Mr. Major! – We entered the quartermaster’s closet without knocking.
– At ease! – The veteran looked up from the documents on the table and smiled. – Some tea?
“We won’t refuse.” My friend walked around the room like she owned the place and pointed her wand at the kettle, which immediately began to boil.
In turn, I pulled two chairs up to the table, and the caretaker took cups, a teapot, and raisin cookies, my favorite, out of the cupboard.
“Tell me what happened?” Filch took a long sip from his iron mug. “Did someone offend you? Just tell me, and he’ll be sleeping with a shovel!”
With the onset of winter, the detentions changed; now the students shoveled snow, while snowdrifts grew larger around the castle. The caretaker forced the delinquents to gather snow into piles and then use shovels to create perfect geometric shapes with right angles. As always, the veteran approached the process creatively.
“No, everything’s fine here. After that incident, they’re afraid to look at us. We have a different problem.” I bit into a cookie and washed it down with hot tea. Delicious.
“We’re freezing!” Her friend put the cup down on the table and looked at Filch pitifully. “Do you have a magic heater?”
– Well… I knew it… You flea-ridden fool… – A disgruntled meow came from under the table, and the caretaker picked up a small black cat. – I’m not talking about you, my dear.
We watched with affection as the evil caretaker, smiling kindly, petted his familiar, while Mrs. Norris purred loudly and rubbed herself against her master’s hands. A few minutes later, the cat curled up on his lap, and Filch continued.
“I installed stoves in all the boys’ dormitories a week ago, but I’m not allowed in the girls’, you understand.” We nodded in response. “So I installed them near your dean’s office. Minerva said she’d install them herself or give the prefect the task. She forgot, as usual.”
We quickly finished our tea and, led by the caretaker, headed to the dean’s office. There were indeed seven old-fashioned and slightly odd stoves in the hallway: cast-iron stoves with ornate designs, completely lacking chimneys and glass doors. I immediately had questions.
– Excuse me, but where does the smoke go? – I pointed at this strange stove. – And where do I get firewood?
– What? What smoke? What wood? – Filch looked at the magical stove in surprise, and then turned his gaze to me. – Are you witches or what? You light a magical fire and that’s it! Magical flames don’t need wood, and they don’t produce smoke! If Hogwarts were heated by wood, we’d have cut down the Forbidden Forest in a couple of years.
– Damn, that’s right. – I blushed a little with shame.
“Muggle thinking.” My friend placed a sympathetic hand on my shoulder and laughed, “You spitfire.”
“Quiet now!” The caretaker knocked on the dean’s door, and a minute later a tired, pale-faced McGonagall with large bags under her eyes opened the door.
“Good evening, Argus, Miss Hellsing, Miss Granger. Has something happened?” The woman looked at us with a stern gaze. “Have my students broken the rules?”
“No, the girls came to me because they were cold.” The veteran nodded at the cast-iron stoves. “I brought them to you a week ago.”
“Who did you bring?” The Dean thought for a second, then shook her head guiltily. “Merlin, it completely slipped my mind. The end of the year is approaching and I need to prepare a ton of paperwork and reports. Albus is very busy at the Ministry and the MCM, so I’m doing everything myself…”
Then the Dean of House waved her wand, and a translucent blue cat emerged from its tip. A few minutes later, Demelza Robins arrived with a couple of older girls. Having received their assignment, the girls lowered the stoves and quickly ran to the common room. McGonagall even awarded us ten points for caring about our house. After that, we went our separate ways; it was soon lights out.
Entering the bedroom, I immediately noticed the stove in the center of the room, now crackling comfortably with wood. I never cease to be amazed by the wonders of magic; the room had become a little warmer, but one final touch remained. I threw off my robe and climbed up onto the table near the window, where there was a strong draft.
“Rigel, what are you doing there?” Lavender asked me. “And what’s that iron cylinder you’re holding?”
“It’s magic foam, it’s called mounting foam.” I started filling the cracks in the frame and windowsill. “Thanks to it, the window will stop leaking, and our room will get even warmer.”
Brown watched me closely, while Elvira and Hermione tried not to laugh. When I finished, I jumped down to the floor and looked around contentedly: the stove was warm, there was no draft from the window, perfect! Finally, I’d be able to wake up warm! Smiling contentedly, I headed for the shower.
***
Breakfast began with a small line forming around the Ravenclaw table. Goldstein had launched the hot water bottle ad two weeks ago and was now actively selling charms. By the time the post owls arrived, he was already taking pre-orders; the twins had made thirty of them in a week, and they were quickly snapped up. The students loved the effect and, naturally, wanted more. Anthony promised to finish it within a week, and the twins sat at our table, rubbing their hands with glee. I’m genuinely happy for the Weasleys; the boys are really trying.
– Finally! Buddy, you almost missed breakfast! – Ron gave Justin a satisfied hug. – We really gave them a good beating yesterday!
“It was more of a draw,” Finch-Fletchley said, sitting down opposite my friend and me. “Hi, girls!”
Last week, Weasley finished protecting his trunk from thieves—yes, he got the rune design right on the seventh try. Except the guy claimed seven was a magic number, so it was all fine. Then this morning, Justin didn’t show up for his exercise, so I called him. A sleepy guy told me he was in the hospital wing, and then proudly told me what had happened.
That night, the boys woke to the sound of electricity, and Finnigan was lying smoking next to Ron’s bed, his pants down. Six Marauders had been electrocuted, and Weasley immediately grabbed his wooden prosthesis and started beating the bastard with it. Longbottom and Thomas came to their comrade’s defense, while Justin backed up our red-haired friend. A fight ensued, during which Neville got a broken nose and Finch-Fletchley took a nasty fall and broke his arm, but not before he’d given Dean a good ear-slapping. McGonagall broke up the fight, deducted points from everyone, assigned detentions until Christmas, and sent the injured to the hospital wing. Only Weasley and Potter slept in the dormitory. My brother didn’t join the fight, but watched from the sidelines—maybe he’s gotten smarter?
I looked at the young aristocrat again and was surprised. It happens: you interact with someone every day and don’t notice any changes, but if you look at them a little differently, you see how much they’ve changed. Finch-Fletchley has lost a lot of weight and gained muscle; even the baby fat is gone! His features have sharpened, and he’s grown a little taller; if he keeps this up, he’ll become a real beauty with the physique of an Olympic athlete. I hope Mia and I don’t fall in love with him at the same time, like in a soap opera, and end up fighting. I briefly imagined my friend and I dividing Justin, and burst out laughing.
– What’s wrong with you? – Granger nudged me in the side.
“I’ll tell you later.” I smiled back at her.
I took a fresh look at the House table; almost everyone had changed a little, but Longbottom stood out the most… Neville had gotten fatter than a pig! I remember his figure on the train; it was clear he was actively involved in sports. And it’s true, I’ve never seen him exercise, even though Crabbe, Goyle, and I say hello every morning while we jog. When it gets warmer, I’ll suggest the boys train together; I wonder how good they are. But Neville just sits there, eating constantly, in a chair by the fireplace! It looks like they forced him to do it at home, but here, without his grandmother’s cane, he’s relaxed and completely let himself go. My gaze fell on Elvira; just a new uniform and robes, plus the cosmetic charms Lavender taught her, and the girl looks like a pureblood from a young family. Smith was chatting cheerfully with Brown and Patil, completely indistinguishable from them.
“Stop counting crows!” My friend put her hand on my shoulder. I still can’t stand other people’s touches, but Hermione, like my mother, can. The hands of loved ones are so warm and gentle. “We have to go to Transfiguration.”
– Boys? – I turned to Ron and Justin.
“We’ll catch up,” Ron replied, carefully moving the plate of sausages closer to his friend. “Come on, eat, buddy, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, just like lunch and dinner!”
Nodding to the kids, we headed off to class. Today we were supposed to start a new topic; we were already tired of these bugs with buttons and other small round objects.
