Chapter 57
When you’re constantly busy, you don’t notice how time flies, and before I knew it, it was already the end of March. I only thought about it because the Easter holidays start tomorrow, and they’re really short—just seven days. Five, to be exact: one day we take the steam train to London, and another day is spent returning to school. It’s times like these that I really want to change some of the school traditions. Why even need the Hogwarts Express when there’s a Floo network? A hundred years ago, all the children arrived at school via Floo powder, and the dozen massive fireplaces in the castle hall still serve as a reminder of that. True, these days they’re used not for their intended purpose, but for heating. The steam train has its advantages, of course; not all wizards have Floo connections at home, not to mention mundane children, and the huge queue at the public fireplaces in Diagon Alley wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Besides, if you mispronounce your destination, you might end up somewhere completely wrong; there have been precedents for that. That’s why our little red steam train has been running the London-Hogsmeade route for over a hundred years, and everyone’s happy with it. As for the long haul, I’ve long noticed that wizards, in general, aren’t in any rush and lead a very measured life. So I put my voluntarism to rest and got out of the shower.
I shook my damp hair and started putting on my school uniform; breakfast would soon be starting. I stretched contentedly and grabbed a comb from the top drawer of my bedside table, then looked at the row of identical mugs sitting on it. My Geminio spell is now perfect; it only took two weeks to master it, and then another week and a half to perfect it. There was some experimentation involved; Mia even started a scientific journal to document all the intricacies of the new spell.
Through experimentation, we discovered that the copy spell is both very useful and useless. The benefit is that you can easily duplicate any simple, unenchanted object. A mug, spoon, or quill could be duplicated without any problem, and books and notebooks worked the same way. The benefit of copying is that, say, someone asks you to copy notes, and you wave your wand and give them a copy without worrying about returning the valuable manuscript—convenient. However, this spell cannot copy artifacts or precious metals; it simply doesn’t work on them. Why? Because screw magic! Perhaps this is one of the mysteries of the universe that we will someday unravel. But my rune-covered comb simply ignored this spell, as did Hermione’s gold ring. We simply accepted this axiom and continued experimenting.
Regarding complex items, it turned out more interesting. I easily copied the cartridge for my MP-5, but upon disassembling it, we discovered that the inside was very different from the original; there wasn’t even any gunpowder. As an experiment, I took a regular pistol, no fancy bells and whistles, out of my suitcase and copied it. Externally, it was identical to the original, even the serial number matched, but inside… The copy would never fire, and I couldn’t even disassemble it completely, yet the original and the copy weighed the same!
We also discovered that copies don’t last long, or rather, their lifespan depends on the magic invested in them. The mug I poured almost my entire supply into has been sitting on my nightstand for over a month, while the spoon Mia poured just a drop of magic into vanished within an hour. The copy of the Transfiguration textbook lasted almost a month before vanishing as well. So I was confident that the science department would scan the magnum opus within a couple of weeks and begin studying it, but another disappointment awaited me…
This fucking book turned out to be copy-protected! Fuck, even the Wizarding World has anti-piracy protection, but how do you get around it? Simply stealing the book won’t work; the red seal on the back clearly states that taking this tome outside the library is impossible. We definitely can’t bypass the Founders’ magic, so we need to come up with something else. I remember a colleague of mine installing some program on my computer in a past life, and then my beloved Heroes III came without a disc, so wizards must have something similar. The girls and I spent the next week searching for a spell that would copy copy-protected items, but our fruitless search was interrupted by Justin. At first, the guy listened attentively to our problem, then started laughing at us, and when Finch-Fletchley stopped laughing, he said just one word – camera – and ran off. The young aristocrat ran away from us in a crooked direction, weaving from side to side, as copies of mugs and everything else we had on hand flew after him.
Well, the next day, Woland brought me a package from home containing a brand new Zenit camera and two dozen rolls of film with a fifty-exposure capacity. At breakfast, the raven had another argument with Vasya and, smashing my plate with his beak, flew into it. I’d already decided that I’d definitely pluck that impudent bird during the holidays, but Woland, during a lap of honor around the great hall, dropped a white projectile into Longbottom’s plate and was immediately forgiven.
It took us another three days to photograph all two hundred and fifty-six pages of the magnum opus and the additional twenty-two pages of the enclosed booklet. We photographed each page twice, just in case. When we finished, I felt an incredible sense of relief and finally calmed down. It was probably the first night this year that I slept so soundly and sweetly.
I finished getting dressed and, having fastened the last carabiner of my vest, jumped up and down. Mia was currently checking her machine gun, and Elvira, like a basketball player, was throwing her brand-new sneakers into the trash. Thanks to the copying spell, the thrifty Smith now copies her sneakers every morning and simply throws them away after her workout. This way, she gets an extra workout, and our roommates have long since stopped paying attention to our quirks.
Speaking of Elvira, after witnessing pureblood wizards’ amusements in person, she finally began learning to fight and shoot. No, that’s not true; the girl had trained and learned self-defense before, but she did it halfheartedly, as if she were serving a duty. That same evening, it finally dawned on her that she could face such individuals one-on-one and that Hermione and I wouldn’t always be there. Thanks to this, our raven-haired beast stopped fearing getting punched in the face during sparring and even started hitting targets with the pistol she was given. I didn’t immediately notice the change in her behavior, but I finally talked to the girl and reassured her. She’s a vassal of the Hellsing family, and anyone who attacks her automatically declares war on the entire Order of Protestant Knights, meaning that this idiot will die a very long and painful death. I promised Elvira that she would personally castrate anyone who offended her with a blunt knife. Smith calmed down a bit, but insisted that the bastard would be punished later, after the fact, so she would do everything in her power to fight back against the villains. Elvira also remembered that, after all, she was supposed to protect me, not the other way around, but she still wouldn’t refuse help, unlike some…
Speaking of which, I confirmed via the Marauder’s Map that the ungrateful slut returned to the common room safe and sound, albeit a bit late; it was already past midnight. Then she spent almost two hours in the shower, probably brushing her teeth, the ungrateful bitch. The next morning, Tiffany was chatting with her friends from our Quidditch team’s cheerleading squad as if nothing had happened. However, as soon as our group descended into the common room, those hens began glaring at me with hateful, contemptuous glances. In response, I grinned predatorily and waved at them with the hand clutching the pistol. I’m not afraid of those cowardly bitches, but I still need to be more careful; they only know how to do nasty things on the sly.
I even conducted a complex investigation into this matter, even launching an investigation. Specifically, I asked Lavender why Tiffany Greene hated my family so much. In response, the blonde, with a smile and sparkling eyes, gave me a detailed dossier on this young pureblood family. How did she know all this?
It turns out the Grinn family is quite wealthy compared to other young families, and that shabby writing instrument shop on Diagon Alley belongs to them and brings in quite a handsome profit. To achieve complete happiness and recognition in the Wizarding world, this family only needed to marry into the Sacred 28, and they almost succeeded. Grinn’s younger brother is a second-year Ravenclaw and was engaged to Theresa Rowley, who, due to her parents’ foolishness, was killed by a well-aimed shot from a Hellsing sniper. With their failed assassination attempt, the Rowleys not only signed their own death warrant and killed an innocent half-blood boy, but also ruined the future plans of a promising young pureblood family. It turns out wizards are very superstitious, and now no pureblood wants to enter into marriage contracts with the Grinns, in case they’re cursed. Look at the Rowleys. They barely even got engaged before their entire family was wiped out, and the curse is to blame for their failed assassination attempt. It’s idiotic, to say the least, but I have to keep a close eye on that ungrateful bitch now, because they blame me for all their troubles.
– Girls, are you ready? – I finished getting dressed and turned to my friends.
“Of course!” Smith replied, returning her PM to the holster on her belt. She liked the Soviet pistol better than the Austrian one.
“Let’s go already, I’m hungry,” Hermione grumbled and straightened her tie.
“Girls, wait for us!” Parvati shouted and threw her robe over herself.
“Rigel, thanks again for Cthulhu, it’s so soft and warm!” Brown came up to me and smiled dreamily, while the other girls in the room shuddered nervously.
This “cute pink teddy bear” turned out to be a whole other story, and it happened exactly two weeks after our failed attempt to help an ungrateful fifth-year girl who had fallen into the hands of lustful Slytherins. That morning, I jumped out of bed, hearing the screams of terror and despair that ring out in the face of imminent death—they were the very ones that echoed in our room. Patil and Smith, pale as chalk, screamed loudly, the girls jumped out of their beds in terror, and Elvira, in her fear, emptied her entire magazine at the threat and didn’t even miss once! Confused, I drew my pistol and rolled away, then followed Hermione’s pale gaze and saw HIM. At that moment, my insides sank…
The pink, chthonic monster sat calmly in the corner of our room, its bloodthirsty gaze and arrogant smile promising everyone present a very long and painful death. I knew we were all doomed, but… From behind me, I heard Brown’s happy squeal, and like a fearless David, she rushed at the terrifying Goliath. Our blonde in the pink shirt quickly closed the distance between them and leaped at the monster, then hugged it tightly. At that moment, I thought I had one less roommate, but a few moments later, I realized that was not the case. Lavender, purring contentedly, held the pink monster close and, her eyes wild, squeezed it. For the first time, I saw fear and growing panic in Cthulhu’s eyes…
Two more things happened that morning. First, Brown finally convinced me to let her sleep with that pink monster. The bear’s eyes were so fatalistic and doomed that I even felt a little sorry for him. And second, at breakfast, we learned that Tiffany Greene had been sent to the hospital wing with multiple fractures. It turned out the fifth-year had been practicing a new spell that night and, as a result, had broken almost every bone in her body. At that moment, the reason for the pink teddy bear’s presence in our room immediately became clear to me. I’ll definitely kiss Alucard on both cheeks during the holidays. He hates it, but he can’t refuse me.
“No problem, if you like it that much, then keep sleeping with him.” I glanced at our blonde’s bed and saw only hopelessness and resignation in the pink monster’s eyes. “Let’s go to breakfast already.”
Roy and Justin were already waiting for us in the living room. After greeting each other, our large group headed off to breakfast. We quickly descended to the great hall and, taking our seats at the table, began to devour our food. After morning workouts, I always have a ravenous appetite.
“They sure know how to ruin the last day…” Weasley grumbled discontentedly, looking at the schedule. “First period: Double Potions with Slugs. I hate that greasy bastard! I thought he’d calm down once his bald head stopped flashing, but he’s gotten even angrier!”
“Just ignore him and that’s it,” Justin, sitting next to him, put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Easy for you to say, he didn’t call you names last class.” Ron scowled and clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. “You’re as stupid as your older brothers… All you know is how to eat in your own head… Your mother shouldn’t have given birth to you, you’re clearly defective… Mrs. Weasley didn’t want to, and Mr. Weasley didn’t try… I hate you! You big-nosed creature!”
As Weasley continued to impersonate the Prince and hurl insults at him, I recalled our last Potions lesson. During it, the boys had been chatting about their upcoming holidays and had messed up a nearly finished potion, for which the Head of Slytherin deducted ten points from them, and then spent the rest of the lesson humiliating Ron. The insults were truly hurtful; if the Potions Master had said something like that to me, he would have found himself in the torture chamber at Hellsing Manor the next day. But the bastard has a strong instinct for self-preservation, so he simply ignored Finch-Fletchley, who was sitting next to him. The young aristocrat wouldn’t have allowed such a thing to be directed at him either. I’ve long noticed that the Prince only picks on and humiliates children who have no one to stand up for him. Potter and Longbottom regularly blow up cauldrons, but the greasy one simply deducts points and assigns them detentions, and that’s it! He has never insulted a single offspring from a rich and influential family, but he takes it out on the rest in full force, the bitch.
– Rigel! Rigel, can you hear me? – Our red-haired friend distracted me from my thoughts.
– I hear you, I hear you, I was just lost in thought. – I looked at the blushing Weasley. – What do you want? I won’t let you copy it!
– And don’t worry, I wrote the whole essay the day before yesterday, I have a favor to ask of you… – Ron looked at me with a pitiful look. – Rigel, break my arm, please.
– What? Did you hit your head? – Hermione, sitting next to him, almost choked on hearing such a strange request.
“No, no need to hit me on the head, just break my arm.” Weasley extended his left hand forward. “This one, my right one is the working one.”
– Why? – I bowed my head and looked at the red-haired idiot.
– What do you mean, why?! So as not to have to go to Potions! I’d rather stay in the hospital wing until dinner. – Ron’s smile widened with satisfaction. – Girls, it’s not that hard for you, please, I really don’t want to go to that greasy bastard’s class.
“Well, since you ask…” I shrugged and reached into my bag for the first aid kit. “Just take some painkillers first…”
“Ria! You can’t do that! It’s not right!” Hermione, sitting next to her, began to protest. “Madam Pomfrey will immediately recognize the anesthesia and suspect something is wrong! We need to break it right away, while it’s still alive, to be sure. Ideally, an open fracture is needed, so there’s more blood!”
“You’re right, that’s what we’ll do. Justin will hold it, and we’ll break it. I’ll break the left one, and you break the right one.” I nodded to my friend and eyed this malingerer with a predatory expression.
“I mean, no need. I’ve changed my mind, I can wait a couple of hours.” Pale Weasley swallowed nervously and watched the first aid kit go back into his bag. “Especially after DADA lunch, I wonder what new Quirrell will tell me.”
“Have you really changed your mind?” I looked closely at the redhead, and in response he nodded his head like a bobblehead. “Too bad… Then let’s go to class; it’s best not to be late for potions.”
Potions and Transfiguration flew by quickly and without incident. The Prince wrote the recipe for Confusion Potion on the board and glared at us the entire lesson, while McGonagall demonstrated how to transform a mouse into a box and handed out squeaky teaching aids. Then we had lunch and headed to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
During today’s class, the professor was enthusiastically explaining to the students about Doxys and how to combat these tiny pests. I was sitting in the back row, keeping a close eye on this creature hiding behind the professor’s guise. Mia, seeing my behavior, only sighed sadly and clutched the phosphorus grenade tighter in her hand—my friend is so caring. My tension was caused by the fact that after the Christmas break during Defense of the Dark Arts classes, the Sneakoscope on my wrist had noticeably warmed up, and the professor himself had begun to look somewhat paler. Now I had no doubt that Quirrell was possessed by the Scum, but attacking him head-on would be sheer suicide. So let’s hope the contract with Hogwarts prevents a teacher from directly or indirectly harming a student—that’s how it’s supposed to be.
“Owners of large estates, where doxies are common, use a very effective remedy against these pests—doxycide. This black, foul-smelling potion is specifically designed for the removal of doxies. The spey paralyzes the vile creatures for a period of time, enough to remove them from the house without causing significant harm from their bites.” The tall, blue-eyed man took a breath and continued. “You will brew this potion in your fourth year, or you can buy it at any pharmacy. Is everything clear?”
The professor looked at us with an attentive gaze, lingered a little on Potter, and continued his lecture.
“If you encounter a Doxy outside your home, but somewhere in the wild, and you don’t have the necessary remedy at hand, then a Disturbance Charm will be a great help! It works exactly like Doxycide. Slowed Doxy specimens won’t cause you any significant problems, and you can safely leave the creatures’ habitat.” Quirrell chuckled cheerfully, and his wand appeared in his hand. “Remember the gesture carefully; the verbal formulation is Impedimenta! Place the stress on the penultimate syllable. One more time! ImpediEnta! Excellent! And now for the practical part.”
The teacher waved his wand, and a cage of small vermin slowly flew from the utility room and landed smoothly on his desk. Flora flew off Hermione’s shoulder and began babbling belligerently in her gibberish; in the wild, fairies and pixies are natural enemies.
“Flora, calm down, no one will hurt you here,” her friend addressed her familiar affectionately and patted herself on the shoulder.
“Mom! Love it!” The little winged creature kissed its owner on the nose and took its favorite spot.
The binding began to bear fruit, and the little fairy began to speak a little. Her vocabulary was still very limited, but it was still an achievement! I remember the tears of joy when the little one flew up to Hermione and lisped “Mama” softly. I was shocked, to be honest. All the books say that fairies are stupid and unintelligent creatures, but that’s not true! Proof of their intelligence is now sitting on my friend’s shoulder, munching on a jellybean, and how could she possibly fit so much in there?
While I was admiring the winged little creatures, the professor levitated a couple of doxies to our table. The next moment, Vasya lunged from under my robes, and one of the furry pests disappeared into his mouth. The second doxie screamed in panic, but the spell held it firmly in place, and soon my pocket kite devoured it, too.
– Vasya, you can’t! – I grabbed the insolent hose by the scruff of the neck. – What are you doing?
” Delicious! I want more! ” My familiar licked his lips and looked hungrily at the next table.
“Miss Hellsig, I demand that you more closely monitor your familiar’s behavior.” The professor looked at me sternly, and the snake, as usual, hid under his cloak. “If this happens again, I will be forced to ban your snake from my classes.”
“Sorry, Professor.” I lowered my head guiltily. “The snake’s instincts simply kicked in.”
“I understand.” The blue-eyed wizard nodded in response. “Minus five points from Gryffindor for irresponsible behavior towards your familiar, and now let’s continue.”
Quirrell waved his wand and my inkwell transformed into a doxy. With a satisfied nod, the professor returned to his desk. After flicking Vasya’s forehead, I began learning a new spell.
Under the professor’s precise guidance, the students quickly mastered the simple spell and began practicing it. With about fifteen minutes left in the lesson, Dean Thomas raised his hand and looked questioningly at Quirrell.
– Mr. Thomas, I see you have some questions. – The professor turned his attention to the Gryffindor.
– Yes, Professor. – Thomas stood up from his seat. – Why are we practicing such useless spells?
“I don’t understand the gist of your question.” Quirrell looked at his student with interest. “Please explain what you mean by useless?”
“Well, I mean, all the spells we learn in your classes…” The boy hesitated a bit and scratched the back of his head. “They’re all harmless, you know. Why paralyze a Doxy and then carry their carcasses out of the house? It’s easier to kill those pests right away and then burn them. Same with the other dangerous creatures. I’ve looked through my high school textbooks and they all teach you to either run away or scare them off… Maybe it’s easier…”
“I understand the gist of your question.” The professor stood up and quickly approached the Gryffindor. “Mr. Thomas, you are a Muggle-born, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Dean replied, frowning.
“The corrupting Muggle influence is immediately apparent. Unfortunately, you grew up among these greedy and insignificant creatures, and you’ve adopted their ways and customs.” Quirrell glared at the student. “Mr. Thomas, you think like a Muggle! You urgently need to reconsider your views of the world around you, otherwise you’ll remain a pathetic Muggle with a wand for the rest of your days and never become a true wizard. Miss Malfoy!” the teacher barked.
– Yes, Professor. – The Slytherin rose smoothly.
“What happens if a wild flu griffin flies into a magical settlement?” The blue-eyed wizard looked expectantly at the first-year student.
“The locals will either neutralize it themselves or call the Aurors.” Malfoy frowned. “Then the magical creature will be transported to a nature reserve or released in the nearby forest, Professor.”
– Why? – Quirrell smiled contentedly.
“What do you mean? They’re very rare and valuable. Everyone knows that!” Diana frowned. “Our family breeds grippgriffs, and each new chick is practically a celebration,” the girl smiled. “These beauties mate for life, and if the male dies, the female will never produce offspring. Everyone knows from childhood that even garden gnomes shouldn’t be killed; they can be very useful.”
“I see,” the professor turned his gaze to the Gryffindor. “Mr. Thomas, what would happen if a wild bear wandered into a Muggle town?”
“The bobbies will come and kill the dangerous predator,” Dean replied, blushing and lowering his head.
“Excellent, Miss Malfoy. Can you explain why Muggles and wizards react differently to relatively identical situations?” Quirrell bowed his head and looked expectantly at the Slytherin. “I’ll add that Muggles have special guns that fire tranquilizer darts. Muggle Aurors have the ability to tranquilize a bear and return it to the forest, but instead they simply kill the unfortunate animal. Why?”
“I think it’s because the world beyond the magical territories is huge, and Muggles aren’t used to taking care of nature. There are a lot of forests around, and there are probably a lot of bears there, too.” Diana thought for a moment. “I’ve been to London, and it’s really hard to breathe there—the air is so dirty, just like the Thames. You can’t even swim in the water, let alone drink it! Wizards react differently because the Wizarding World is very small, and there are a lot of wizards. If you kill everyone, where are you going to get the rare ingredients? And everyone knows from childhood that the more magical creatures there are, the more magic there is around.”
“Exhaustive answer. Ten points to Slytherin for excellent knowledge of the Wizarding world. You may sit down.” The Slytherin smiled contentedly and took her seat, and the professor looked closely at the Gryffindor. “You see, Mr. Thomas, wizards, unlike Muggles, are limited in their territories and resources, and there are very few magical creatures. A true wizard understands this and therefore neutralizes the Doxys and sells their bodies to an apothecary. If he doesn’t need the money or ingredients, he simply releases these little pests into the wild.” Quirrell looked the first-year over appraisingly. “A true wizard thinks about tomorrow, unlike Muggles. These greedy and mindless creatures are capable only of destruction, and at the moment you think like a pathetic Muggle! Do you understand everything?”
– Yes, professor. – Thomas hung his head dejectedly and sat down.
– Excellent! – Quirrell chuckled contentedly, – any more questions? Miss Hellsing.
“Professor, I disagree with you. Mundanes are capable of not only destruction, but also creation.” I was frankly infuriated by this Nazi’s tone and the way he spoke of ordinary people. “Ordinary people invented art, cinema, books, and thanks to the development of science, they’re already flying into space! Wizards, by the way, use many of these mundane inventions in their everyday lives, so I think it’s unfair to call ordinary people pathetic and insignificant! Now you sound like a Nazi. Grindelwald said similar things and ended badly.”
“I expected nothing less from you.” The scumbag behind Quirrell’s guise chuckled maliciously, and the Sneakoscope on my wrist grew noticeably warmer. “Miss Hellsing, do you know what a virus is?”
“Yes, it’s a dangerous disease that destroys the human body.” The entire class held their breath, looking from the professor to me.
“Good, then, you’ve made my job easier.” The tall man nodded contentedly. “Let me explain something: all animals on the planet adapt to their environment; they adapt, that’s how nature intended. But Muggles reshape the environment to suit themselves. They cut down forests, divert rivers, and pollute the air with their factories; they don’t care what happens in a hundred years. The Muggle ruling elite cares only about profit, and in pursuit of it, they’re willing to destroy the entire planet! Muggles have already poisoned rivers and seas, exterminating entire animal species they thought were so useful. A virus that enters the body acts in the same way, gradually infecting all internal organs and eventually killing its host. By the time Muggles realize they can’t eat money, it will be too late… These worthless creatures will sooner or later destroy our world, so they must be stopped. These stupid animals need a competent shepherd…”
“One already tried it and is now rotting in Nurmegard.” I looked the professor in the eyes. “Because of him, millions of people died, and European wizards still can’t restore their numbers. And all thanks to one bastard who wanted to rule the world.”
“I disagree. Our beloved Headmaster’s friend didn’t want to rule the world.” Many in the class gasped, especially the Gryffindors. “Yes, yes, for those who didn’t know, I’ll explain: Grindelwald and Dumbledore were best friends in their youth. And the slogan ‘For the Greater Good’ was written on every gate of the Nazi death camps. Gelert Grindelwald wanted to change the world! This great wizard wanted to unite the worlds, to destroy the Statute, but he chose the wrong method… His actions started the Great War, and I in no way condone this monster. His ambitions brought only death and destruction to the world, and that’s wrong. Do you agree with me?” The professor stared at me expectantly.
– I agree. – I nodded in response.
“And now that Muggles have created nuclear weapons,” many in the class winced, “fighting them is pure suicide. That’s why wizards need to unite and find a way to influence the Muggle government. Wizards are the pinnacle of evolution; we’re stronger, faster, and smarter than Muggles, which means we must find a way to control them and limit their population. Before these beasts multiply and devour everything around them! By bringing Muggles under control, we’ll preserve the world for our descendants…”
The teacher’s impassioned speech was interrupted by the bell. Quirrel waved us off in frustration, as if to say, “Go away already.” I quickly threw my things into my bag and quickly left the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom. It was definitely Scum, and he’d gone wild today. I imagine he made similar speeches to his servants when he was trying to seize power in Wizarding Britain. He’s definitely nuts!
Our group was walking slowly down the corridor when the Slytherins overtook us.
– But the professor is right in some ways! – Zabini exclaimed as he passed me.
“Not in something, but in everything! Those pathetic Muggles should have been put to bed long ago,” Nott replied, walking beside him. “My father says that wizards should rule the world, and Muggles should serve us.”
“Quiet, boys, or Corona’s lapdog will hear you,” Parkinson said loudly and looked at me sarcastically. “Or has already heard you.”
“Pansy,” I smiled tenderly at the brunette. “If you don’t apologize right now, you’ll spend the holidays in the hospital wing.”
The Slytherins stopped and looked at our group with disdain. Behind me stood Hermione and Elvira, as well as the Weasleys and Finch-Fletcherly; there were more of us, but these three smirked and drew their wands. I still don’t understand this behavior of some purebloods; it’s pure idiocy! Are we more numerous and stronger, or did Quirrel remind them of the superiority of purebloods over all others?
“Did I even tell a single lie?” Parkinson feigned surprise and looked up at me; I’m more than a head taller than her. “Your family has been wagging its tail at the Crown for centuries and faithfully serving Muggles, so don’t be offended. Would you like me to scratch your ear, too, and in exchange, you’ll bring me a ball?”
– Didn’t your daddy crawl on his knees before a half-blood who thought he was a dark lord? – Two can play that game. – As far as I know, Voldemort, – the Slytherins shuddered, – marked his slaves like cattle, and then rewarded these cowardly nobodies with the Cruciatus. How about you lick my shoes too, and then I’ll caress you with torture, purebloods like that, right? Nott, – I turned to her comrade. – Your daddy also has a slave mark, right? Well, offspring of slaves, will you lick my shoes? Unlike your former master, am I a pureblood, or do you prefer to kneel only before half-bloods?
“Beast! Seko!” Nott sharply pointed his wand at me, which he had clenched until his knuckles had turned white while I was speaking. The little bastard was aiming for my neck.
“Protego!” I effortlessly accepted the spell onto my shield and instantly pointed my wand at this idiot. I know dark curses too. “AnteoDucatia!”
Without waiting for the result, I suddenly take a step to the side, freeing up the view for my best friend.
– AnteoDucatia! – A black beam, identical to mine, flew from Hermione’s concentrator and hit Parkinson.
The next second, screams of pain filled the hallway. Nott and his sly girlfriend fell to their knees, clutching their heads, screaming loudly. With a loud, sickening crunch, antlers began sprouting from their empty skulls—all different kinds! While the boy’s were branched, deer-like, and sprouted from his temples, the girl’s were goat-like, sprouting directly from her forehead. Blood also spurted from the base of the growths, and soon Parkinson lost consciousness from pain shock, while Nott simply lay on the floor, howling monotonously, wet his pants from the pain.
I turned my gaze to Zabini; the cowardly gypsy boy was trembling and looking at me with undisguised terror. I bared my teeth predatorily and pointed my wand at him. Blaise shook his head sharply and dropped his concentrator on the floor, then turned on the spot and ran away. It seemed the cowardly wretch had also shit himself, judging by the smell that wafted back to us after his escape.
– What’s going on here? – Professor Quirrell’s scream came from behind.
– I’m also interested. – The Prince entered the corridor silently before us.
Zabini was running so fast he didn’t have time to slow down and crashed head-on into his head of house. The Potions Master stood his ground and grabbed the cowardly first-year by the shoulders, but then grimaced and let go of the brat.
Hmm… I looked at the horned Slytherins lying on the floor, unconscious, their faces covered in blood. Then I looked at the terrified and shaking Zabini, hiding behind the evil Professor Prince, and there was Quirrell running towards us from behind. Who cares, tomorrow is the holidays! They can’t just leave me in the castle, can they?!
Author’s note: I’ve aligned the chapters on Litnet with those on AuthorToday and FicBook, and now the sale will be published every Sunday.
Thanks for reading!
