Chapter 49
I lazily opened my eyes and glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. The hands read almost eight in the morning—wow, I’m so good at sleeping in. So I’d missed my run and exercise! For the first time in years! I was about to jump out of bed and run to change, but I remembered it was Christmas, and yesterday Mom had told me to catch up on my sleep. So I decided to snooze for another hour, stretched sweetly, and rolled over. It was so nice not to have to rush anywhere. As I dozed off, I replayed the events of the last crazy days in my head, and there was plenty to remember.
Having safely left Diagon Alley, we headed straight to St. Ursula’s Orphanage. Olaf and Valerie needed to be transported to their new home, and by the time we arrived, it would be midnight. And then a serious problem arose: the children were practically feral; these two had never left the magical district and were now looking at nighttime London with the eyes of pooping mice. Admittedly, it took a lot of convincing to get them into the non-magical self-propelled chariot; I didn’t even want to think about explaining about electricity and television at that moment.
Mother, accompanied by Walter, Lady Priscilla, and Father Benedict were already waiting for us at the orphanage gates. Victoria and the lieutenants remained in the cars, and after greeting each other, we all headed to the mansion designated for the orphanage staff. As we entered the cozy little house, Lady Selon pulled out her wand and asked the orphans to follow her to the examination room. I hadn’t even known she was a sorceress, but what a sight. And then, various diagnostic spells began flying from the orphanage manager’s wand.
After conducting an initial examination, Lady Selon confirmed that the children were fully capable wizards, and that the eldest would be attending Hogwarts in a couple of years. She also discovered several poorly healed fractures in the boy and a recent concussion in the girl, along with numerous hematomas, bruises, and general exhaustion due to chronic malnutrition.
After all the checks were completed, the children were taken to the dining room and served a late supper. During this time, the adults decided that the newcomers would live in the staff building for the next couple of months. First, they needed to be treated and all the necessary paperwork completed. Second, they needed to be socialized, and Olaf and Valerie needed to be explained everything about the Statute so they wouldn’t blab about magic. The children ate very quickly, so after about fifteen minutes, Lady Priscilla led the sleepy and nodding orphans to a spare bedroom on the second floor.
“Star, you’ve really caused us a lot of trouble before the holiday,” Father Benedict said sadly.
– I couldn’t do otherwise.
“Well, I’m not scolding you, on the contrary, I’m proud of you. It’s okay, we’ll process the paperwork after the holidays, and by spring the children will have adjusted, then we’ll transfer them to the main building. Did you see how Scylla’s eyes lit up?!” The abbot chuckled cheerfully and turned to Mom. “Lady Integra, would you like some tea before you go?”
“I won’t refuse.” The abbot gallantly offered his hand to the illustrious lady, and we moved into a cozy living room.
Over a cup of tea, I bombarded Father Ben, and then Lady Priscilla, who had joined me, with questions and learned many interesting things, especially about Lady Selon. It turns out the orphanage’s director was quite a powerful witch and descended from the ancient Sayre family. If my memory serves me correctly, they were considered one of the descendants of Slytherin and the founders of Ilvermorny School in the United States. Things got even more interesting: during the First Great War, young Priscilla wanted to volunteer for the front, something her parents categorically disagreed with. So the stubborn girl ran away from home and signed up as a nurse at a military hospital. And towards the end of the war, when fighting was raging in Germany, a wounded Hellsing officer named Benedict Selon was admitted to the operating room.
The sorceress recalled with a nostalgic smile how the uncouth boor (who also happened to be a handsome man, even a gentleman at times) tried to woo her. The woman even pulled out a beautiful metal rose from her dresser, one that Father Ben had carved from a tin can. In short, three weeks later, the fortress known as Priscilla Sayre fell. Benedict failed his medical examination; his injuries were too serious, making him unfit for further combat service, so the young couple returned to the Empire. Needless to say, the headstrong and willful girl was banished from her family, especially after they discovered her unholy affair with a pathetic Squib (I’m talking about Father Benedict).
The man’s injuries left him unable to have children, and he was tired of war, so he decided to take up the clergy, and Lady Priscilla fully supported her husband’s choice. My great-grandfather learned of the loyal officer’s decision and decided to support the young family, offering them work at St. Ursula’s Orphanage. When Lady Priscilla took over as manager, she immediately declared that there were no other people’s children and that they would raise the orphans as their own. Since then, the former pureblood witch and the former combat officer have worked at the orphanage, helping unfortunate children.
By the end of this interesting story, I was nodding off and almost asleep. I don’t remember how we got into the car and drove home. But I do remember the bucket of ice water Victoria poured on me yesterday morning! After cursing and spitting, I saw my nanny so pleased and disgustingly happy that it felt awkward to even be offended. Then came a run, some exercise, and a little sparring with the vampire. As usual, I fired my pistol and hurled spells, trying to get the nimble little brat until Victoria got fed up and slammed me into the wall. Elvira watched our actions with her mouth open and her eyes wide. Let her get used to it; soon we’ll be taking her seriously too. I need a loyal vassal and a reliable fighting unit, not a court lady. After breakfast, Smith went to bail with Junior Lieutenants Banks, and my mother, Walter and I went to London.
The day was incredibly productive. First, we were waited on at the studio, where I chose a gorgeous black evening dress. They adjusted it to my exact size in a couple of hours, and I even helped out with a little magic. Next on the agenda was a beauty salon, where my mom and I underwent a whole series of treatments and were greeted by a couple of stylists. The end result was pleasing: my skin was smoothed and acquired a healthy glow, the dark circles under my eyes disappeared, and my perpetual frizz was tamed to a chic hairstyle. They braided several black and dark green ribbons into my hair, adding a couple of white rose-shaped bows. Admiring myself in the mirror, I was very pleased with the result – a real gothic beauty, and given my height and outfit, I looked a couple of years older.
From the beauty salon, we went to the Golden Lamb, where Uncle Monya and his grandson Anthony greeted us with open arms. The jewelers quickly picked out a black gold jewelry set for me, something I hadn’t even known existed. I tried on a lovely necklace and modest earrings with black stones in front of the mirror. Whether they were diamonds or some other gemstone—I didn’t care; they looked absolutely perfect with the dress. They even offered us a discount on the purchase, but we said we’d think about it, and then we went straight from the jewelry store to Windsor Castle.
The Queen’s Christmas reception itself literally flew by, quickly and like a blur. By five o’clock, my morning energy had drained, and I was on autopilot, so to speak. In the adults’ hall, my mother and I took a lap of honor and greeted the powers that be, then I wished Her Majesty a Merry Christmas and presented her with my gift. I’d racked my brains over what to give the Queen and decided not to overthink it, so I simply sewed a clutch out of black dragon leather and decorated it with a silver snap fastener. Then I was handed over to Jacob Lancaster, who escorted me to the children’s hall. I even danced a couple of times with this handsome fellow, and overall, Jake turned out to be a very interesting conversationalist and a gallant gentleman; his fiancée was lucky. So what? Tall, handsome, intelligent, and so gallant… Something was wrong with me. Maybe it’s fatigue, but why do I keep remembering the look in his caring blue eyes, looking down at me?! Is it because Lyoshka looked at me the same way? I need a distraction…
At seven o’clock in the evening, I said goodbye to the boys and met my mother in the courtyard. An hour later, we were already at the estate and gathered around the festive table. It’s a shame Hermione wasn’t there, but the Grangers’ grandparents were visiting, so they celebrated Christmas in a quiet family circle, just like us.
The celebration itself was warm and cheerful. Elvira and I listened with curiosity to Alucard’s tales, which Walter later joined in on. Victoria recounted a couple of amusing incidents from her time in the police force. Then we shared a few moments from our school days, and at the stroke of midnight, the fireworks exploded. Having enjoyed the spectacle, we wandered off to our rooms. Once in bed, I telekinetically summoned the Miraclephone and called a friend, and we chatted for half an hour, maybe an hour; I don’t even remember how I fell asleep.
And I dreamed… Stop! I sat up in bed and patted my rosy cheeks. I’m only eleven, too early for this! And Lyoshka didn’t even have panties like that! Where did these thoughts come from? Did Alucard bite me or something?
– This is the last straw! – I leaned back against the pillow and shifted on the bed.
Maybe my body realizes I’m older mentally and is trying to catch up… No, that’s nonsense. Although I’m technically not a girl anymore since I was six, and considering the magic, the daily extreme workload, and the liters of potions and stimulants I’ve consumed… Anyway, I just noticed yesterday that I look a couple of years older than I should, just like Hermione. My friend and I have been training together for years and taking the same magical performance-enhancing drugs. So, I need to get my thoughts in order, and then talk to my mom. Of course, I’ve been through all this before, but just in case. In my past life, I had no one to talk to about this, maybe I’ll learn something new. And the dream was still goooood! There was Lyoshka and I… Damn… I’d better take a cold shower.
***
Meanwhile, at Grimmauld Place 12, Harry Potter was slowly descending the gloomy stairs, his every movement sending a sharp pain through his lower back. He’d been spanked! For the first time in his life, the Blacks had punished the Chosen One! And it was all because of Malfoy, that Mordred bitch, who had driven him to this! How could he have known that the cheerful spell his godfather had shown him would turn out to be a Dark Curse of purulent herpes, let alone one that became permanent after a day? Upon arriving at the mansion, his grandparents had yelled at him loudly and long, something Harry was used to, but not to a salt-water rod. But that wasn’t enough for his relatives, and now Nymphadora beats him every day in the training room! That rabid fool says he’s a disgrace to the family! But the worst part was something else: Sirius had been forbidden to give him a new broom! Harry really wanted a brand new Nimbus 2000, but now he’ll have to fly an outdated Nimbus 1999 until summer, like some Weasley.
Potter quickly reached the Christmas tree and quickly examined the presents; the trinkets held no interest. He was drawn to a separate pile of sweets, which, in fact, he had also been deprived of. The pile of gifts for the chosen one was the heaviest, and fans, especially female fans, tried their best to attract his attention. But the young wizard was unfazed; old Kreacher was vigilant for the safety of the Blacks and their ilk. Harry quickly grabbed a dozen boxes of sweets and, glancing furtively around, trudged to his room.
Half an hour later, Potter, his face smeared with chocolate, was already opening the fifth red box, contentedly pouring a pile of sweets onto the bed.
“Pepper devils, my favorites!” The candies immediately appeared in the young wizard’s mouth. They were followed by chocolate frogs, treacle fudge, and cauldrons.
After about fifteen minutes, Harry realized he was full and starting to feel sleepy, probably because he’d gotten up early. The Chosen One settled more comfortably on the bed and fell asleep almost instantly, and five minutes later, Potter had a very large and very loose bowel movement.
Walburga Black couldn’t get her adopted grandson to breakfast and decided to call him herself. The impudent, mischievous, and sarcastic boy had gotten on her nerves, but she couldn’t stay angry with him for long. The Black family matriarch had long ago considered this troublemaker a relative, probably because he was a carbon copy of Sirius. Yes, Walburga knew her son wasn’t the best person, but he was her son! He was her firstborn and her favorite, and despite his outward rebelliousness, Sirius was a very obedient boy. The woman entered her chosen one’s room and was stunned.
The stench was overwhelming, and her grandson was sleeping soundly in his warm white pajamas. His pants were now a deep brown, just like the bed around him. Walburga immediately grabbed her wand and cleaned the room, then tried to wake the boy, but Potter had soiled himself again, splashing his grandmother. She realized the child had been poisoned, so she cast a spell to catch his fast-sleeping body and immediately headed to the fireplace.
At St. Mungo’s, Walburga encountered a panicked Augusta Longbottom, whose grandson was in a similar state, only Neville’s pajamas had once been bright green. The enraged women immediately demanded the Chief Healer, but on Christmas morning, the hospital only had the on-duty Mediwizard, and the queue to see him had accumulated after the holiday. Augusta even cast a Patronus to Hippocrates Smethwick, but the translucent goose sent by the healer said only one word: “Quack.” Andromeda was also unavailable; she had Portkeyed to Switzerland for the annual Congress of Dark Healers. So the two matriarchs of ancient and noble families were forced to sit in line for several hours, periodically cleansing their grandchildren with spells and freshening the air around them.
***
Minerva McGonagall emerged from her dormitory wearing a green cap and a warm green robe. Few knew that, despite her loyalty to her House, her favorite color was green. She stretched and yawned sweetly; she loved Christmas mornings. She loved waking up early and drinking a cup of hot chocolate in front of a crackling fireplace. Minerva was already heading for a comfortable armchair when she decided to check her Christmas presents. Perhaps her former students would surprise her this year as well; they often sent her life-like figurines or flowers, created through Transfiguration.
This year, they sent several old books, a dozen boxes of chocolates, and even a bottle of expensive liqueur. She set the alcohol aside, hoping to share it with Albus. Minerva’s attention was drawn to the last large box, which seemed to be cluttered with activity. She lifted the gift with a smile, opened the lid, and was speechless. Inside the box sat a small ginger cat with black stripes and dark markings around its eyes, looking around pitifully.
“Mama!” the kitten cried, as soon as he saw the witch’s surprised face. A second later, Minerva McGonagall collapsed in a life-saving swoon.
***
The Potions Master and Head of Slytherin woke up in his quarters with a terrible headache. He shouldn’t have agreed to a drink with Hooch and Trelawney the previous night; the centaur’s old alcoholics would outdrink him. On his third attempt, Severus managed to get out of bed and, shuffling and unsteadily, wandered to the potions cabinet. Alas, his bleary eyes didn’t find what he was looking for, although his aching head clearly remembered that there were two hangover potions left over from the previous day. The prince felt a pleasant breeze between his legs and opened his robes, finding no underwear or pants, but lipstick stains on his manhood. It became clearer that he would never have given those alcoholics the elixir, so precious during the holidays, so easily. The Potions and Mental Magic Master tried to recall the previous night, which only made his head ache even more. The last thing he could recall was drinking Firewhiskey with Hooch, followed by a kiss with Trelawney, who sipped sherry straight from the bottle, not bothering with anything smaller than a bottle. Severus considered this for a moment and admitted that it was actually better that way; if he couldn’t remember anything, then nothing had happened!
Wrapping his robes tighter around himself to keep out the draft, the Potions Master headed toward the Christmas tree. He’d drunkenly chopped down this tattered broom seven years ago and even decorated it with a single red glass ball. The prince quickly began checking the contents of the boxes; books and rare ingredients weren’t his current concern. Finally, in one of the boxes, he found what he wanted—a bottle of good Firewhiskey and some dandruff shampoo. Severus didn’t even hold a grudge against the joker; after quickly checking the bottle’s contents and confirming its safety, he greedily sucked on the neck and drank a third of it in one gulp.
The headache subsided, a pleasant lightness settled on his legs, and the Zelvar, settling comfortably into a soft chair by the fireplace, gestured for a glass. Already finishing the noble drink, the Prince glanced at the shampoo again. With the swaying gait of a seasoned sailor, he approached and picked up the beautiful bottle, opened the lid, sniffed, and nodded contentedly. An expensive, high-quality product. I wonder who sent it, who should I thank? Severus glanced under the Christmas tree, where a dozen gutted boxes and a pile of cards lay scattered, many of them torn.
“To Mordred!” Severus burped heavily and, swaying along the wall, headed towards the shower, clutching a bottle of shampoo in his hands. “I-I need to g-get myself cleaned up!”
Half an hour later, Professor Prince emerged from the shower completely bald, but being dead drunk, he didn’t even notice and fell asleep with a satisfied smile. Incidentally, the Potions Master won’t find an antidote to the depilatory agent added to shampoo until the end of February.
Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, fiddling with a pair of bright pink wool socks. They were a little plain, the embroidered runes a bit crooked, but the old wizard could tell they’d been made with love. From the magical imprint, it wasn’t hard for the headmaster to identify the gift’s author, whose identity pleasantly surprised him. He smiled into his beard, took a sip of aromatic tea, and tried on the new pair – the socks had shrunk slightly, giving his feet warmth and comfort. Albus smiled nostalgically; the last time his mother had knitted socks like these for him…
Dumbledore blinked quickly and sighed heavily. This was no time for reminiscing. The Chosen One had completely disappointed the headmaster. Perhaps an encounter with true evil would influence the boy’s behavior? Tom had almost untangled the wards in the forbidden corridor; he’d need to give Harry a few hints; children love riddles. So we’ll find out what the Chosen One really wants, but that’s all for later…
Albus stretched contentedly, stretched his legs, and admired the pleasant gift with a smile. Then he gestured for a bottle of mead and added a tablespoon of the rich brew to his tea. It was Christmas, so he could relax and reflect. The Platinum Bitch had raised the girl well, but something needed to be done about her aggression and temper, but he had a couple of ideas. What if…
***
A strong hiccup overtook me, wondering who remembered me. I’d given a lot of presents this year, and while I’d made a bit of a joke at the expense of Prince Charming and McGonagall, everyone else got quite decent gifts. I also sent Flitwick a buildable model of a combat robot from the BattleTech universe—yes, those books exist in that world! In a past life, I loved science fiction and literally devoured novels about giant, walking machines of death. I enclosed my favorite William Keith trilogy about the Grey Legion of Death with the robot; I hope the little professor will appreciate it. I sent Middlemist seeds to the Head of Hufflepuff House; this incredibly rare flower was very demanding in its growing conditions. In the Empire, similar flowers were only found in the Royal Botanic Gardens; it was there that a seedling was brought from China in 1820. I had to give Baron Middlemist, whose ancestor brought this plant to Britain and named it after himself, puppy-dog eyes. The main thing is that Madam Sprout doesn’t start modifying my gift, otherwise my psyche might not be able to handle the delicate pink bud with fangs and thorny vines.
I didn’t forget about Hagrid either. I sent the kindhearted man a gift edition of “Magical Creatures of the World,” a book with a huge number of gorgeous, colorful illustrations. This hefty almanac featured every magical creature known to science, from the augurey to the erkling. I included a five-liter bottle of expensive cognac with the book; I hope my gift will brighten the lonely gamekeeper’s long winter evenings. After all, despite everything, he continued to regularly send us notes about his life, about feeding Fang, or about how much he missed “dear” Aragosh. From these notes, we learned that with the extermination of the acromantulas, the forest had become more populated by “boring” and “uninteresting” animals, and the centaurs had become less aggressive toward the gamekeeper. Well, that’s understandable, the arthropod creatures devoured everyone who couldn’t escape them, and literally destroyed the ecosystem of the Forbidden Forest.
I turned off the water and grabbed a white terry towel. As I dried myself, I couldn’t help but stare at my reflection, or rather, my scars. Soon, very soon, I’d get my hands on that nasty little stone. Where else would I find the recipe for the elixir of life? Well, that’s all for later. After finishing my shower and getting dressed, I grabbed the Miraclephone and called my friend. At that moment, Vasya, as usual, wrapped his arms around me and looked demandingly toward the exit.
– Hi, Mia! Merry Christmas!
“Hi, Riya! Happy holiday to you too! Thanks for the gift!” The girl was now wearing a light brown sweater, with my friend’s name embroidered in gold thread on the left chest.
I spent almost a month working on this work of art, there’s no other way to describe it. It’s all because of the layering: the first layer was made of werewolf wool, which is incredibly strong and durable; the second was a thin layer of Kevlar threads; and the third, backing layer was unicorn wool. Add to this the enormous amount of runic inlay, and the result is a very soft, warm, comfortable, and bulletproof wool sweater.
“Is everything still on today?” Hermione tilted her head to the side.
– Of course, now we’ll have breakfast, sort out the presents and leave for Crawley.
– Excellent! I take it we have a couple of hours? – I nodded happily in response. – Where are we going?
“Let’s start with Soho and then we’ll see.” Receiving a nod in response, I hung up. Time to go down to the tree, and then to breakfast.
The gift-giving process turned out to be quite interesting. My classmates gave me sweets and a couple of interesting books, and my mother gave me that very black jewelry set I wore to Her Majesty’s reception. I really liked those earrings and necklace, but asking for them seemed somehow inappropriate or embarrassing. The vampires gave me a bulletproof vest—guess what color it was? That’s right, bitch, urban-style pink camouflage.
Walter delighted me. The imperturbable butler placed two brass knuckles in a black velvet box, and these fist-punching tools turned out to be truly unique! They even came with instructions, in huge letters, stating that the striking part shouldn’t be touched with your hands because it’s coated with cold iron! I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t run my finger along the matte black surface—it hurt, like thin needles were piercing my skin. I’ll give one to Mia; we’ll definitely test these wonderful artifacts at Hogwarts. Speaking of which, a friend got me a set of enchanted knitting needles! Where was that before? I would have saved so much time.
I didn’t neglect my relatives either; I even had to pester my grandfather to send me the necessary materials. For Mom and Victoria, I prepared bright red nightgowns made of acromantula silk and unicorn wool, for the old vampire I sewed a pink alcoholic tank top, and for the imperturbable master of pain I gave black thestral wool gloves. And Elvira got a set of gloves, a hat, and a scarf, all dark red, embroidered with the Hellsing crest and, naturally, with a warmth and comfort charm.
Breakfast was quite cheerful; Victoria kept throwing on a new nightgown and shooting glances at Alucard, who was thoughtfully twirling my gift in his hands. Mom quickly leafed through a small stack of documents and, after making sure Elvira and I had already eaten, sent us off to change. Back in November, we’d arranged a family stroll through festive London, and we’d meet the elder Grangers along the way.
***
Our stroll through London was a wonderful success; accompanied by adults, we strolled through the festively decorated streets of the Empire’s capital until almost late in the evening. Every hour, we stopped at a cozy café or restaurant for a snack, as, according to Grandma Hermione, you can’t walk on an empty stomach. We returned home slightly tired, full, and satisfied, and the next day I had a blast. After a morning jog and some exercise, I collapsed on the sofa in front of the TV, only getting up to eat. And the best part about this situation was that no one bothered me! How I missed being alone! At school, you’re always in the public eye or in the company of others, but here you could walk around the room in your underwear and a single sock on your bare chest, and no one would say a word to you! Beautiful.
Pleasant thoughts flashed through my mind as we descended into the Soviet Consulate’s portal hall in a friendly crowd. “We”—me, Mom, Elvira, and the Grangers in their entirety—I’ve long considered these people close family members, and they reciprocate.
“Oh, my! Incomparable Integra, how glad I am to see you!” The old Jew stepped forward with outstretched arms. Hugging my mother, he carefully surveyed our group. “Is it just me, or is there quite a crowd today?”
“Hello, Solomon Markovich, I’m also glad to see you in good health. These are family friends, we were all invited to visit.” Lady Integra smiled, gesturing toward Dan and Jean, who was holding little Hector.
– Well, that changes things! Friends of my friends are my friends! Please, make yourself at home! – The gray-haired man pointed to the center of the complex rune circle. – Where should I send you today? To Moscow or Leningrad, or perhaps Odessa?
“They’re expecting us in Irkutsk,” Mom replied to the cheerful old man with a smile.
“Excellent choice! My Yosik caught a huge grayling there the other day, and then Sofa made such a wonderful fish soup! I even asked for more.” Solomon Markovich smiled mischievously and stroked his small belly. “When you arrive, say hello to a guy; he knows what’s going on.”
A bright white light filled everything around me. I closed my eyes as usual, and when I opened them, we were already in the portal hall of a large Siberian city. The room, of course, was smaller than the one in Moscow, but it was still impressive: the high white walls and ceiling were covered in intricate stucco, the floor around the portal circles was completely covered in tiny runic inscriptions, which I didn’t even try to decipher, and the huge rectangular windows were covered in airy tulle, making the room very bright.
Two tall, black-haired, blue-eyed, and broad-shouldered men approached us. The older one looked to be about thirty years old, and the younger one, whose face looked perfect, was no more than twenty years old.
“Well, hello, princess!” Sergei hugged his mother, then glanced around at our group with a satisfied look and pointed to his own. “Meet my youngest, his name is Igor. Son, you know Tegru, I’ll introduce you to the others later, and this fidgety one here is our relative. The Black Regiment has grown!”
Hugs and handshakes followed, both Blacks kissed me and the girls on the cheeks and completely tousled our hair. From Sergey’s conversations with the adults, I realized that about twenty people from a large family had gathered in the lake house, and the whole crowd was eagerly awaiting our arrival.
We quickly descended the stairs and found ourselves in the courtyard of a large, ancient building with columns, where we settled comfortably into two large, black Volga cars. Then followed almost three hours of snow-covered travel, as my friends and I sat in the same car, curiously exploring the surroundings. What can I say, I liked Irkutsk—a clean, neat city with wide streets and brightly painted houses. And now, even more so, they’re festively decorated with posters and New Year’s lights.
“Party orders.” Igor nodded toward the bright green apartment building we were just passing, opposite the light blue one.
– Why? – I looked around the clean and bright building again. – To lift the spirits of the residents?
“Exactly. Siberian winters are very long, and autumn and spring are mostly rainy. A whole commission came, and in 1962 they decided that this architectural solution increases citizens’ productivity and helps combat depression,” our driver answered seriously.
– Thank you. – We nodded thoughtfully.
About half an hour later, we left the city limits, where we were greeted by a winter highway. The trees and fields around us quickly became tiresome; the car rocked gently, moving calmly along the smooth road, soft music playing from the speakers, and before I knew it, I’d fallen asleep, my head buried in Hermione’s shoulder.
It was already dark outside when we pulled up in front of Cherny’s “forest house.” The huge two-story cottage was literally immersed in a pine forest, almost on the shore of a snow-covered sea. I looked around, mesmerized, and took a deep breath of the crisp, crisp air; that alone was worth the trip.
About twenty people were waiting for us in the mansion’s spacious living room. Among them, I recognized Masha, Sergey’s wife—my grandmother, it turns out. There were also two tall, blue-eyed men, Viktor and Efim, one son, one grandson, and three adult women, Olga, Valentina, and Alevtina—the wives of the young Blacks. And, of course, a crowd of children of all ages, from toddlers to nearly grown-ups. The room erupted in noise, hubbub, and bustle, broken by cheerful laughter, but the surrounding madhouse didn’t evoke any negativity; the overall atmosphere was very warm and friendly.
Once we’d finally gotten acquainted, the whole crowd moved into the spacious dining room, where the women, including Mom and Jean, began setting the table, while the men set out bottles of juice and liquor, and Igor and Yefim took charge of setting the table. Again, the whole thing was accompanied by jokes and laughter.
The merry feast continued until late in the evening, when I was already feeling like a dwarf and nodding off. We were finally shown to our rooms. Mia and I were given a small room with a single wide bed; the house, though large, was not designed for thirty people at a time. After quickly changing and standing in line for the bathroom, I hugged my best friend contentedly and fell into a deep sleep.
If I’d known what surprise Hermione would have in store for me tomorrow, I wouldn’t have fallen asleep so easily. I probably wouldn’t have slept at all, fighting the urge to steal a snowmobile and run off into the dawn…
