Chapter 56
“We found the light!” Elvira exclaimed cheerfully, looking at the burning Shrieking Shack.
Our entire group gathered by the large window, watching with interest as an old wooden shack on the outskirts of Hogsmeade blazed. After admiring the conflagration for a moment, I pulled out the Marauder’s Map and, activating it, began to carefully examine the scene. From the window of the operations base, nothing but flames were visible, and I wanted to know all the culprits and participants in this event.
“Somehow I’m not even surprised…” Hermione muttered, looking at the map over my shoulder.
On the yellowed parchment next to the hut were two dots marked Potter and Longbottom, from which two more marks—Thomas and Finnigan—were quickly moving away toward the school. My brother had chosen good company; as soon as trouble (or at least burning) began to brew, the two immediately fled. And next to my brother and his eternally hungry companion, another dot appeared—Percivalich himself.
The hut was quite a distance away, but even so, we saw a huge black cloud that poured several cubic meters of water onto the burned area, after which the wooden walls quickly became coated with a crust of ice, finally extinguishing the fire. The old man was strong! In literally a few seconds, the problem was solved. True, there was little left of the hut, but the wooden shed remained empty. It’s moments like these that I realize that magic truly can do anything.
Meanwhile, new characters appeared on the map: McGonagall, Prince, and Flitwick were running quickly from the castle toward the Headmaster. A few minutes later, the Deans, led by the Headmaster, surrounded the first-years. It was almost impossible to see out the window, so Mia reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of binoculars. She wondered what else she had hidden there.
Thanks to the optics, we could clearly see the new marauders standing with their heads down, while McGonagall shouted at them and gestured wildly. A couple of minutes later, the Prince climbed into a charred, dilapidated building and soon returned, levitating Firepaw in front of him. The dragon hatchling actively resisted and tried to bite the professor. The Headmaster said something to the Head of Slytherin, who nodded and released the free-spirited creature, only to fire a green beam of Avada at it the next moment. With a satisfied nod, the Prince snared the dragon’s corpse and quickly headed toward the castle, his bald head catching the moonlight.
Then the headmaster waved his wand, and the remains of the Shrieking Shack were literally pulverized into tiny pieces, leaving a small wasteland in its place. Having finished the landscaping, Dumbledore stroked his beard with a flourish, said a few words to those present, and then, satisfied, headed into the castle, the others following behind.
“Little Fire, your life was short, but you went out brightly,” Justin muttered, lowering his binoculars.
“Am I the only one who thinks my brother stole Hagrid’s dragon and we spent half a day wading through knee-deep snow because of that idiot?” I looked closely at Finch-Fletchley.
“Don’t you think…” Hermione said thoughtfully, looking suspiciously at the young aristocrat. “I’m more interested in how the new Marauders found out that Hagrid had a dragon?”
– Probably, purely theoretically and hypothetically, if you believe the theory of probability… Although I do not exclude other factors that influenced confidentiality and privacy… – Finch-Fletchley found something interesting on the wooden frame and began to examine it with interest.
“I see, Weasley was speaking loudly, as always, and those idiots overheard you.” Hermione sighed heavily. “And why would Potter need a dragon? I don’t understand. If he wanted to spite Dumbledore and get rid of the gamekeeper, he would have simply written to his family, and they would have shown up here with the Aurors.”
“Merlin, your brother thinks he’s fucking Merlin!” Justin stopped examining the cracks in the wooden frame and looked at me. “Remember that Transfiguration lesson when McCat tested your and Hermione’s familiars?” My friend and I nodded in response. “Then he kept telling us that the great Potter would have a familiar no worse than Merlin’s! That idiot then spent a whole month carrying around the Dragonologist’s Handbook while choosing his future pet.”
“They probably let him down at home, and people like my brother are used to getting what they want…” I nodded understandingly. “And then Hagrid got a little dragon, which Harry decided to make his familiar. Idiot…”
“Enough guessing.” Finch-Fletchley ruffled his hair and chuckled cheerfully. “Tomorrow Lavender will tell everyone the official version, in detail. The main thing is that Hagrid wasn’t around, and our good-natured gamekeeper had nothing to do with it.”
“Every cloud has a silver lining. Thanks to Potter, we met the centaurs.” Hermione nodded contentedly.
– Excuse me, but maybe I don’t understand something… – Elvira looked at us carefully. – But from your conversation it turns out that Harry Potter is Rigel’s brother, but how did that happen?
“Exactly!” Justin jumped down from the windowsill and stood next to Smith. “Our future Baroness promised to tell us something this afternoon. And you can tell us your family tree too, since I don’t really know anything either.”
Two pairs of eyes stared expectantly at me. Mia stood next to me, squeezed my hand tightly, and smiled encouragingly. Looking around at my friends again, I sighed heavily, and finally made up my mind. It was time to stop keeping everything to myself; it was time to start trusting people. With these thoughts in mind, I pulled out a parchment from my bag with a non-disclosure and non-harm agreement for Justin. The girls were already my vassals, but Finch-Fletchley was just a friend… The guy merely chuckled cheerfully at my actions and signed the contract with a bloody quill.
– Okay… – I nodded to my friends and headed to a table with soft chairs. – But first, tea and cookies!
Over the next half hour, I quickly told the couple about my relationship with Potter—that is, that we were twins. Without going into detail, I explained how I was considered a Squib as a child and given to sadistic relatives, whom I later killed. Then I told them about the orphanage, meeting Hermione, and being Lady Hellsing’s guardian. I kept quiet about the blood adoption ritual, letting them assume my appearance was the awakening of Black blood. I also had to tell them about Sergei Cherny and his relationship with Lily Evans.
“Incredible!” Elvira exclaimed when I finished my story. “Now I understand your physical resemblance to the Black sisters, and why you dislike the Magical World so much.”
“Why have you been so tense the last three weeks?” Justin looked at me with interest and took a sip of hot chocolate. “I never believed Lavender’s nonsense.”
“The Philosopher’s Stone,” I muttered and pulled the plate of cookies towards me.
“So? Half the school knows the headmaster is hiding this rare artifact in the Forbidden Corridor.” Finch-Fletchley looked at me in confusion. “What do you need it for? Your family is one of the richest in the Empire, and eternal life is such a big deal… For example, Potter and Longbottom were recently gossiping that if they had the Philosopher’s Stone, your brother would buy the Nimbus, and Neville wants to open his own restaurant. I don’t get it…”
– You won’t understand! – I turned away and began to wash down the lump in my throat with tea.
As I told the story, certain moments from my childhood came flooding back to me, moments I desperately wanted to forget, but couldn’t. As my mother used to say: our personality is built on life experiences and memories, and if I delete something, I could lose a part of myself. So I had to endure it and strain my Occlumency, reliving those disgusting scenes from the past. The Boar appeared before my eyes, puffing on me… The creature breathed heavily, fumes of alcohol in my face, his hand tightly clutching my throat, I could barely breathe, and a hellish pain tore me apart, literally tearing me apart from the inside… I hate it! How I hate it! A vision from the Mirror of Erised appeared before my eyes, and I smiled predatorily. I would definitely see all of this in reality. A predatory and dreamy smile appeared on my face; for some reason, Mia calls it a butcher’s grin.
“Did I say something wrong? Rigel, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why yet, but I’m still sorry.” I heard the guy’s guilty voice and turned around. He and Elvira flinched, but quickly pulled themselves together and smiled back.
“I’m infertile,” I said in a mechanical voice. “The last time my guardian overdid it, I almost died. The doctors were able to save my life, but now I’m physically unable to have children. The Philosopher’s Stone should help, that’s what Smethwick said.”
Justin clenched his fists angrily and stared blankly into space, while Smith and Mia hugged me from either side, literally radiating support. At moments like these, I’m so grateful for my empathy; it was thanks to it that I quickly came to my senses and smiled, a normal smile.
“I’m in! When are we going to rob the director? Got a plan?” The guy stopped staring at the wall behind me. “My godfather runs a special unit of the UEBI and can help us, and we can also involve Hellsing’s stormtroopers; I’m sure Lady Integra won’t refuse. And we could also…”
– Already. – I interrupted the now-flustered Justin. – A couple of days ago, I got a piece of the stone.
– Yes. Well. Fuck! How? – The Finch-Fletchley heir jumped up from his comfortable chair and began pacing around the table. – This… This is just fucking awesome! The Director didn’t suspect anything? How did you manage to get into the Forbidden Corridor? How did you get past the security?
For a couple of minutes, Justin transformed into Hermione and started peppering me with questions, and when he ran out of steam, I had to tell him about the mirror. How the Philosopher’s Stone “accidentally” fell out of it, and how I then nearly died from its radiation. That’s why I won’t show the shard to everyone present. Especially since it’s hidden in a safe place.
– Rigel, I’m so happy for you! – Justin congratulated me again.
“You’re celebrating too soon.” I smiled sadly. “I have a shard of the Philosopher’s Stone, but I have no idea how to use it.”
“Rigel, don’t worry,” Hermione smiled cheerfully. “The Order has excellent potion makers and alchemists, like Dagworth—he’s a psycho, but a brilliant psycho! You yourself said that the Dark Lord agreed to help, too. So give the shard to smart people, and they’ll be able to figure everything out and decipher the composition of the elixir of life. It will take some time, of course…”
– Why look? – Elvira stared at Hermione and me in confusion.
– What do you mean? – I didn’t understand the black-haired witch. – No one except Flamel has ever managed to create the Philosopher’s Stone and synthesize the Elixir of Life from it. So the Order’s scientists will figure it out, maybe Grandpa can help…
“Well, there’s a detailed instruction manual for the great deed in the library,” Smith shrugged. “I saw it myself; there’s even Flamel’s signature on the first page.”
“What?!” I was the only one able to utter a word; the rest of my friends were in a state of “horse-fucking …
– Where?! Do you remember which shelf this book was on?! – I jumped up and grabbed the black-haired girl by the shoulders.
“Rigel, calm down, I remember everything, I’ll show you tomorrow.” Smith squeaked and tried to break free from my clutches.
– Why tomorrow?!
“Because there are twenty minutes left until lights out, and the library is already closed.” Mia gently placed her hand on my shoulder. “Riya, that book has been there for years, and it will be there until tomorrow too. It’s time for us to go to the living room.”
I managed to pull myself together and nodded to Elvira; it was really time for us to wrap things up. The book wasn’t going anywhere, and I had one more important thing to do that evening. We quickly cleared the dishes, and, grabbing the black pyramid from the table, I headed to the bedroom. Mia and I, of course, had driven privacy charms into the walls of this room, but I felt more at ease with the old butler’s pyramid. Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean no one’s watching you. And so our friendly group headed to the living room.
After lights out, I made myself comfortable on the bed, pulled the curtains tightly, activated the anti-eavesdropping artifact, and pulled out my Miraclephone. My mother looked at me from the artifact’s screen, a kind smile playing on her tired face.
– Hello, daughter, how was your day?
– Excellent! Mom, do you remember how you told me that the Order used to have its own cavalry corps?
“I remember it was disbanded back during the First Great War; with the advent of machine guns and mass mechanization, it became useless.” The platinum blonde narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You’re not just asking… Tell me.”
– Mom, so here’s the deal… Today, at the edge of the Forbidden Forest…
***
The illustrious Baroness and I talked until late into the night. First, she listened attentively to my encounter with the Orthodox cloven-hoofed animals, even asking a few clarifying questions. Then I proposed recruiting centaurs. So what? They’re strong and resilient, and she herself had complained to me about the shortage of men. Integra thought for a few minutes, even lit a cigarette, and then promised to raise the issue at the next meeting of the Knights of the Round Table. She found my idea interesting, and I was praised as the future head of the Order, having been thinking about its strengthening and well-being from an early age.
We then began to discuss where and how to utilize this newly acquired resource. Centaurs couldn’t be used in the mother country—the Statute, damn it—but there were still the colonies. India, of course, had its own Ministry of Magic, but shamans and wizards openly ignored it, and the local population didn’t consider magic a fairy tale and often turned to magicians for help. So this country could be considered as an option for resettling a small people. Australia and Canada were immediately ruled out; they were quiet, orderly, and had special units of the UEBI, supported by Hellsing. All those responsible closely monitored any manifestations of magic and quickly eliminated violators. And then there was Africa; according to my mother, such a complete mess was going on there that a three-meter-tall horse with a human torso wouldn’t even stand out against it. On the Dark Continent, local shamans still used zombie labor on plantations, and this was considered the norm.
We also considered a method for transporting ungulates. How could several hundred three-meter-tall horses with human torsos be surreptitiously transported to another continent?! Of course, there was the option of using shipping containers with spatial expansion charms, but would the proud representatives of the enlightened people agree to that? There was the option of international portkeys, but where would they get so many of them? Or would it be easier to call ritualists and use a stationary portal arch?
We had plenty to talk about, and just when I was starting to nod off, Mom looked at the clock and ordered me off to bed. I deliberately stayed up chatting with her until the very last minute, otherwise I simply wouldn’t have been able to fall asleep—the thought of the secret of the Great Work waiting for me in the school library buzzed in my head like a hungry Siberian mosquito. So on Sunday, I woke up rumpled and sleep-deprived—three hours of sleep is very little for a young, growing body. However, a couple of vials of potions solved that problem, and I went for a run.
Right after breakfast, our group headed to the library, and Weasley went with his brothers to their lab. He was limping slightly after yesterday’s testing, but he looked very pleased and inspired. According to Ron, the protective artifact was almost ready; just a few minor tweaks were needed before it went into production, and then all that was left was to rake in the Galleons.
Having entered the abode of knowledge and greeted Madam Pince, we headed for the fiction shelves, where Elvira had dragged us. I was already starting to think something bad was going to happen, but after ten minutes of searching, Smith (with the help of a ladder and some other woman) pulled a rather old, tattered tome from the top shelf. “Magnum opus” was written in gold letters on the black leather binding. The girl placed the weighty book on the nearest table and cracked it open, while we peered over her shoulder.
Wow… I didn’t expect such a disappointment, that’s for sure! On the endpaper (beta note: the inside cover, by the way) was a handwritten good-luck wish in French and Nicolas Flamel’s personal signature. Inside the cover was a small pamphlet in German, followed by about two hundred pages of incomprehensible symbols, hieroglyphs, and engravings. We exchanged puzzled glances and handed the text to Justin, the acknowledged polyglot. He read it twice and then burst into hysterical laughter.
“In 1788, the kings of Austria-Hungary, Germany, and France united and decided to find Flamel. They offered a reward of one hundred kilograms of pure gold for the capture of the living alchemist and set all their secret services on edge.” Justin laughed and began a brief summary of what he had read. “For almost ten years, all European mercenaries, retired military personnel, and a host of other people, including wizards, hunted Flamel; they even nearly caught him a couple of times! Soon, the old mage grew tired of the attention and contacted the ruling monarchs, asking them to leave him alone. Flamel promised to send each of them the secret of making the Philosopher’s Stone and detailed instructions for synthesizing the Elixir of Life, even enclosing a signed magical contract. The kings were delighted and happily signed the contract, and soon received ‘this.'” Finch-Fletchley glanced sideways at the thick tome. “As the alchemist Hans Sieg-Schweine Schmulke writes, the ‘Great Work’ is indeed described here, only it’s very cleverly encrypted. This message was left in 1888, and here he wishes us luck, since he hasn’t succeeded in anything for almost a hundred years. There are another twenty pages of his conjectures and suppositions… That’s all.”
“Now I understand why this book is kept in the fiction section.” Hermione turned a few pages and stared at the incomprehensible symbols. On the next page, an engraving of two dogs copulating under a full moon awaited us. “This isn’t a book, it’s heresy! Maybe Flamel just had a laugh and quickly scribbled this nastiness?!”
“I doubt it. Don’t forget, he was already almost four hundred years old at the time.” I leaned over the strange book and began leafing through it. It was all incomprehensible, but very interesting. “I think there’s some kind of code here, because I don’t know any of these symbols, wait.” My eye caught on something. “This sign means multiplication, and this one means mixing.”
“There was one just like that under the first dog’s heel,” Hermione agreed. “Justin, what did this Shmulke figure out?”
We pored over this scientific treatise until lunchtime. I imagine we looked like a pack of monkeys handed detailed instructions for building a hadron collider. Over the course of a few hours, we’d written down a dozen familiar symbols and runes, but understood nothing else. The German’s hints either got in the way or we didn’t understand them either. We went to lunch extremely thoughtful and very tired.
At the table, I listened silently to Lavender. As Justin had suspected, our intelligence was already aware of yesterday’s incident. In short, criminals had been smuggling dragon guts into Hogsmeade, and yesterday, one of their shipments escaped on its own. The new marauders captured a baby dragon and locked it in the Shrieking Shack, and just as they were about to call the professors, the little one breathed and started a fire. The headmaster arrived on the scene and saved everyone, and Potter and Longbottom were awarded a hundred points between them, for trying to save the school from a dangerous beast! Incidentally, the Aurors searched Hogsmeade this morning but found no one, as the dastardly criminals had already escaped during the night. Cool, Potter and his gang stole a dangerous beast from a gamekeeper and burned down a village landmark, and they even got points for it. I think that’s what happened at the end of every school year in the movies. Never mind, I have a different problem now.
After a quick bite to eat, we headed back to the library, where a couple of hours later Justin had a brilliant idea.
“Girls,” the guy got our attention. “Excuse me, why are we doing this?”
– What do you mean? – I tore myself away from the parchment. – The secret of the great deed is encrypted in the book.
“Hmm, I didn’t put it that way.” Finch-Fletchley scratched the back of his head. “Why are we, four school dropouts, doing this? Surely the Order has scientific and analytical departments? And this heresy,” the young aristocrat jabbed his pen at the book, “can be digitized and fed into a computer, and then run through with a special program. Imperial cryptographers have deciphered worse.”
“Couldn’t you have told me earlier?” Elvira exclaimed, offended, as she was entrusted with the most difficult task – carefully copying the fifth page of incomprehensible symbols or hieroglyphs.
– Well, I kind of… – the guy glanced sideways at the written parchment in front of him, – I just figured it out myself.
“How could you be so slow?” I slammed my head on the table. “It’s obvious! We copy the book, and over the Easter holidays we give it to the Order’s analysts, and then it’s their problem.”
– Agreed! – Hermione leaned back in her chair wearily. – Does anyone know a copying charm?
– No problem. – I got up from my chair. – We’ll find out soon.
Under the grateful glances of my friends, I quickly made my way to Madam Pince; this amazing woman knew the library like the back of her hand. The stern witch was at her desk and, without a second thought, dictated a list of books containing the spell I was looking for, and also told me where they were kept. Taking Miranda Gossockle’s “Book of Spells” from the shelf, I returned.
While I was wandering around the abode of knowledge, the girls tidied up the table, and Finch-Fletchley completely packed his things.
– Justin, where are you going? – I looked at the smiling guy.
“Well, you don’t need me anymore.” The Gryffindor looked at the textbook in my hands. “You learn a new spell, and I’ll go to the twins and see how Ron is doing.”
– Decided to help the boys? – Hermione nodded approvingly.
– Almost, I’m more of a spectator and supporter. – The guy chuckled. – Sometimes it’s such a circus there… Okay, see you tonight!
Finch-Fletchley quickly ran off, and we pored over the useful book. We were lucky: within ten minutes, the required spell was found on page thirty-five.
“Geminio is a charm that creates a duplicate of whatever the caster’s wand is pointed at,” Hermione read aloud and smiled contentedly. “Just what I need! So… It was invented by the Hislop twin sisters…”
After quickly copying down the necessary information and sketching out the wand gestures, we returned all the books to the shelves and headed to the operations base. Only an idiot would study and practice a new spell in the library; Madam Pince could ban anyone from her realm for such antics.
Mia and I had long considered ourselves talented and clever witches, because new spells and incantations came so easily to us, and we were already ready to pass our first- and second-year exams. But sooner or later, the realization sets in. It’s not that we’re so smart; it’s that the school curriculum is so primitive! Why did I think that? Because we couldn’t master the seemingly simple Geminio for the rest of the day! We even skipped dinner, so eager to master this new spell, but the results were zero. I once again precisely executed the gesture, recited the verbal formula, and channeled magic into the concentrator, but the porcelain cup on the table was still the only one left.
“Enough, otherwise I’ll start working on Reparo again.” I tiredly put my wand back in its sheath on my forearm.
“Agreed,” Hermione muttered. “Confringo!” My friend’s cup shattered into a pile of tiny pieces with a pop. “Feels better.”
“Let’s go to the living room, I want to sleep.” Smith yawned loudly. “We still need to practice Occlumency a little.”
“Thanks for the reminder, Tempus!” I looked at the time. “There’s still an hour until lights out, so we’ll make it.”
Walking through the dark castle was a bit mesmerizing. A snowstorm swirled outside the windows and a strong wind blew, but the stone corridors seemed especially cozy at such moments, thanks to the burning torches. It’s in the evenings that you truly begin to appreciate the grandeur of these walls, which have stood unshakably for nearly a thousand years. We walked silently and leisurely toward the living room, accompanied only by the sound of footsteps, the rustling of robes, and the crackling of torches on the walls. The three of us had almost reached the end of the corridor when I heard a scuffle ahead and a woman’s crying.
Without a word, Mia and I drew our machine guns, while Elvira stepped behind us and took her pistol off safety. The girl had progressed and was no longer afraid of every rustle. Whispering a spell for silent steps, I quickly covered the remaining distance and peered around the corner, where a disgusting sight met my gaze.
A dark-haired fifth-year Gryffindor hung upside down, her hands trying to hold up her slipping skirt and cover her white knickers. Yes, that’s a great way to determine a wizard’s lineage. Muggle-borns and half-bloods wore regular panties or briefs, while the Ilitha of the wizarding world preferred knickers and long johns. A pureblood, from a young family, maybe fourth or fifth generation. I didn’t know this girl’s name, all I remembered was that she followed Oliver Wood everywhere and was his admirer. So, the girl hung upside down, tearfully begging two older Slytherins to let her go. One of her tormentors was tall and broad-shouldered—Marcus Flint, a brute the whole school knew, but I didn’t recognize his skinny partner from behind.
– Please… Don’t… – The girl whispered, swallowing her tears.
“I’ve been told that you’ve been spreading rumors that I was born from my mother’s unholy affair with a mountain troll.” Flint launched a stinging blow at the girl, and she cried out in pain. “You see, Tiffany, you have to answer for your words…”
“You’ve insulted an ancient and noble family, and since your sweet little mouth can say nasty things,” smirked the second Slytherin, who had restrained the girl with a spell, “you should also know how to apologize properly. First, you’ll apologize to Marcus, and then to me.”
“You’ll definitely swallow all the resentment I’ve accumulated.” Flint stepped forward and grabbed the Gryffindor by the hair.
Bitches! I hate such creatures! The sight filled me with rage, and a red haze appeared before my eyes. Turning my Occlumency to maximum and mentally kicking myself, I barely managed to pull myself together and suppress the urge to unleash the entire store on the bastards. Calm down, Rigel, these freaks can’t be killed, not yet. If I pull the trigger now, I’ll have to say goodbye to Hogwarts, and there’s a very useful book waiting for me in the library. Taking a few deep breaths, I finally pulled myself together and began to frantically reason.
From the fragments of conversation, I realized that this idiot was to blame herself; there was no point in spreading rumors. On the other hand, I couldn’t allow those two to orally rape a girl. Killing Slytherins was also out of the question, but I couldn’t just walk by, so… I grinned predatorily and turned to my comrade-in-arms, who stood nearby, clutching her machine gun until her knuckles turned white. I sent a thought-image into those angry, chocolate-colored eyes; Mia considered for a few moments, then nodded in response.
Standing up straight and maintaining perfect posture, I walked out from around the corner, and Hermione immediately took my place and, kneeling on one knee, took aim at the Slytherins.
“Good evening, gentlemen. Is it just me, or do decent wizards not hang a girl upside down while talking?” My majestic tone distracted the boys from the Gryffindor, and they turned in my direction.
The members of the magical aristocracy looked me over with interest, taking particular note of the pink machine gun in my hands, and then peered closely behind me. The boys appreciated my cover and chuckled contentedly. I didn’t see any fear or contempt in the Slytherins’ eyes, but through empathy, I sensed a certain interest and a hint of annoyance.
“You are absolutely right, young miss, allow me to introduce myself – Marcus Flint.” The captain of the snake Quidditch team nodded politely at me and pointed to his partner in crime. “And this is my friend Armando Carrow.”
“Rigel Hellsing,” I curtsied and pointed the gun behind me, “my friends, Hermione Granger and Elvira Smith, have you in their sights. Could you tell me why a girl from our house is hanging upside down in front of you?”
“You see, Miss Hellsing, this story is full of lies and betrayal… You can’t even imagine how much filth and deceit there is. This person committed a very vile act, causing incredible emotional trauma to my dear friend,” Carrow began with a smirk. “Therefore, the adults will now continue to resolve the conflict, and the first-years will head to their house common room. It’s lights out soon, and children’s bodies desperately need a healthy, sound sleep.”
“Armando’s right, girls, go your own way,” Flint continued seriously. “It’s an unspoken rule among freshmen that no one has the right to bully you, but you, too, don’t get involved in adult squabbles. Tiffany Greene has been asking for this conversation for a long time.”
“Mr. Flint, you understand that we cannot just sit by and allow what you want to do to this girl.” I looked the boys in the eyes. “This girl is a Gryffindor, just like us. Our house may not be the friendliest, but we always stand united in the face of an external threat. I beg you, let the girl go and let us leave in peace.”
“What if we send those insolent brats packing?” asked the lanky Carrow.
– Then our families will become enemies, the Hellsing family, of course, has many ill-wishers… – I thought theatrically. – But as for enemies… The last ones, I think, were the Rowleys… Well, remember that pureblood family that didn’t live even a day after the attack on me?
“We could have done without the threats,” Flint muttered and nodded to his friend. The lanky man pursed his lips, and the girl, hanging upside down, collapsed onto the stone floor. “Miss Hellsing, it was a pleasure to meet you, but I regret that it happened under such circumstances.”
The Slytherins nodded goodbye and slowly walked away from us. I quickly approached the unfortunate girl, who was now sprawled on the cold floor. The fifth-year continued to swallow her tears and smear snot across her sweet face.
– Is everything okay? – I decided to help the girl get up and extended my hand to her with a smile.
In response, this slut slapped me on the open palm and looked at me with such hatred and contempt that I was momentarily stunned. For what? Why? After all, I helped you…
“I don’t need the help of a vile apostate and her tame mudbloods!” the rescued girl hissed and began to slowly rise.
But who’s going to let her? I gave the ungrateful scum a mighty smack on the head with the butt of my gun, and she collapsed back onto the stone floor. Bitch! Here I am, like a spoiled brat, threatening to swear at my connections and promising to complain to my mother, even though I’m disgusted, trying to save this idiot, and in response she hits me on my outstretched hand and hurls insults?!
How was it? Don’t do good, and you won’t receive evil. This proverb was perfect for this situation. This hut reminded me of a certain creature from a past life, and I felt VERY offended.
As the boys started to leave, my friends left their hiding place and, keeping them at gunpoint, approached me, so they could hear that ungrateful bitch perfectly well. Maybe she was angry with me because she wanted to taste noble pussy in her mouth? Who am I to interfere with the Creator’s will?
– Mr. Flint, Mr. Carrow! – I shouted after the retreating Slytherins.
– Anything else? – Flint said loudly and turned towards us.
“You were right, freshmen really shouldn’t get involved in their seniors’ squabbles.” I grinned predatorily at the thuggish senior. “My apologies for interrupting your pleasant conversation, you may continue. I admit, I was mistaken.”
The Slytherins smiled contentedly and quickly retreated, and I kicked that ungrateful bitch’s wand away. I’d helped her, and in response, insults aimed at me and my friends flew from her mouth, and now I don’t feel sorry for her at all. Let those two do whatever they want with her; maybe she’ll at least learn some politeness, or at least her filthy mouth will be occupied for a while. The girls remained silent at my actions; they heard the “words of gratitude” perfectly well. Only Elvira looked at me and the Slytherins with a very thoughtful look.
“There’s a wonderful abandoned classroom just behind there,” I tossed to Flint as they approached us.
“We know,” the Slytherin replied politely. “Have a nice evening, Miss Hellsing, Miss Granger, Miss Smith.”
– Likewise.
The girls and I continued on to the living room, while the boys cast a spell on the struggling girl and went to a secluded spot. I don’t feel sorry for her at all; it’s her own fault. Yes, I’m a cynical bitch and proud of it! I’m not going to save every orphan and wretched person, especially if they resist. I have a family and loved ones, and I don’t care about anyone else, especially not those ungrateful creatures who look at me with disdain.
– Are you sure? – I was distracted from my bad thoughts by Hermione walking next to me.
“You deserve it,” I answer my friend calmly. “We helped her, we took a risk, three first-years against two pure-blooded seniors. If they wanted, they could have devoured us like a god would a turtle, you know.” Mia nodded seriously in response. “And what in gratitude? You heard everything.”
“You know, I remembered the day we met…” The little witch smiled nostalgically for a second. “You helped me then, and I was truly grateful to you; I never even thought about it…”
“And then we became friends and best friends.” I interrupted her and put my arm around her waist. “You’re the only one who agreed to be friends with a crazy, scary orphan.”
– You’re not a beauty even now. – An elbow hit me in the side.
“But it’s still wrong.” Elvira, who was walking behind us, interrupted our banter. “These guys are going to put this girl…”
“At least she’ll be quiet for a bit,” Mia muttered angrily. “Then she’ll brush her teeth again, that’ll be good for her. That purebred bitch doesn’t need the help of vile apostates and tame mudbloods. Pride is a terrible sin, and she must be punished for it!”
When Mia finished, I pulled the dejected Elvira toward us, and we hugged each other and headed into the living room. A ton of work still lay ahead of us…
