Chapter 65
A short, stocky man with wheat-colored hair sat in his office, carefully studying the reports. He glanced again at the figures in the “profit” column, smiled contentedly, and leaned back in his chair. Years of hard work had not been in vain, and this summer he would once again take his family on vacation to the hot coast, and then send his eldest son to one of the capital’s best high schools. Jake had never been poor before, having worked for the Empire all his life, and as his grandfather had said, only honest labor can lead to greatness, and he had achieved it. Over the past five years, the small Creevy farm had grown into a massive factory, providing millions of citizens with high-quality produce around the clock.
And it was all thanks to a miracle, the man couldn’t say otherwise. In December 1986, a representative from the Ministry of Defense visited him and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. The military appreciated the quality of Creevy Farm’s produce and were delighted, so they offered to become one of their suppliers to the army. Jake, a true patriot, immediately agreed. After all, what could be better than a satisfied soldier on the farthest frontier of the Empire, drinking a glass of tea with excellent cream and eating a sandwich with good butter for breakfast?
The next couple of years were pure hell for Jake. After signing the contract, he received an astronomical sum in government subsidies and was required to urgently ramp up production, without sacrificing quality, of course. His farm had previously produced enough milk for a couple of towns, and now he was being asked to supply an entire army! He was shocked when he realized the upcoming production volumes, but thanks to his family, whom he saw less often, he managed. Jake often spent the night on the farm or pitched a cot in the corner of the trailer used by the workers building the factory, but he didn’t let the Empire down! The first batches of ultra-pasteurized milk, cream, and cheese arrived on time!
Once production was running at full capacity, products were flowing smoothly to the military, and money was steadily flowing into his bank account, the man decided to feed ordinary citizens as well. First, Jake finally got some sleep, then spent a week with his beloved wife and sons, and then set out to find new markets. As soon as the retail chain owner learned that Creevy was supplying his products to the military and even Hellsing himself, a supply contract was immediately signed. Everyone in the Empire knew that the army purchased only the best for its soldiers, and Hellsing especially. So, within a couple of years, without any advertising, Jack Creevy became a very successful and wealthy manufacturer, because he didn’t waste his time on trivial matters, but worked honestly.
The milkman stretched in his chair and looked longingly at the calendar—it was Tuesday. He sighed sadly and opened his email on his work computer. Jake always loved delivering milk and other produce personally, as he always saw happy and satisfied people at the final destination, which brought him great joy. Even despite his constant workload, the daily mountain of paperwork, and other worries, the head of the dairy factory couldn’t deny himself this pleasure. Every Friday morning, a satisfied Jake would get behind the wheel of his truck and deliver the produce to Little Whinging, and then to the Central Hospital. After one terrible incident, the man became close friends with the small-town police and several doctors who performed a miracle and saved a little girl, who still sometimes haunted him in nightmares.
Jack Creevy wasn’t a coward or a sensitive man; he’d fought in Africa and seen death, but there were grown men and women there who volunteered to serve the Empire. And on that cursed morning, he found a wounded little girl who’d been subjected to a terrible act—hell, he had two sons of about the same age at home at the time! So Jack was deeply worried about the rescued child and secretly visited her every day, feeling responsible, after all, he was the one who found her. The head of the Creevy family checked with doctors every time about the child’s health, and then footed the bills for the little patient’s treatment. Yes, he spent a fortune, but his family supported his decision, and his wife even offered to adopt the girl, to which Jake happily agreed. As the saying goes, where two are, three are!
At the hospital, the man learned the name of the shelter where the child had been placed and, together with his wife, began preparing the paperwork. His wife offered to visit the girl several times, but Jake declined, wanting to surprise her and fearing rejection. He was very conscientious and didn’t want to give his child unnecessary hope. By November, the necessary documents were ready, but they were too late—the girl had already been adopted. The Krivys weren’t told the adoptive parents’ names, but the shelter manager honestly assured the young couple that little Rigel was lucky to be in a loving family. This calmed Jake and Nancy down a bit and, slightly upset, they went home, where their two beloved and unusual sons awaited them.
Jake smiled warmly at the thought of the children. The Creevey family had a little secret, and it involved two little angels with wheat-colored hair, for sometimes these little rascals worked miracles. These were extremely rare and harmless, like how Colin, the eldest son, managed to heal a deep cut on the leg of Denis, the youngest mischief-maker. The latter had once broken a kitchen window with a ball and was so frightened that it repaired itself. The parents didn’t pay much attention to these strange occurrences, but, just in case, they told the children to keep their mouths shut.
The head of a fermented milk factory was just getting ready for lunch when the intercom on his desk beeped and his secretary announced in an excited voice that important guests had arrived. The man was a little surprised and, adjusting his tie, prepared himself for the meeting, but when a platinum blonde in a black pantsuit entered his office, he involuntarily stood at attention. He couldn’t help but recognize the head of the Order of Protestant Knights; after all, he had once applied for a transfer to this elite unit, but was rejected without explanation.
“Hello, Mr. Creevy, nice to meet you.” Lady Hellsing smiled slightly and placed her hand on the shoulder of a tall teenage girl Jake hadn’t immediately noticed. “Allow me to introduce my daughter, Rigel.”
“Hello.” The girl with black hair with white streaks smiled warmly and looked at the man with her green eyes, seeing which he gasped and involuntarily left the table.
Jake remembered these pools of soul for the rest of his life, and if at their first meeting they had been tired and empty, now they radiated life and energy. The man, not fully understanding what he was doing, took a few steps forward and hugged the rescued girl, and she reciprocated.
“Thank you.” After a couple of minutes, the girl pulled away and kissed her savior on the cheek with a smile. “For everything.”
“You’re welcome…” Jake became embarrassed and turned his gaze to the smiling blonde. “I did what any citizen of the Empire would do.”
“No one would pay for the expensive treatment of a stranger’s orphan and then visit her every day.” Lady Hellsing nodded respectfully at the man. “My daughter owes you her life, and we’ve come to thank you, and at the same time, to discuss an important matter.”
“Of course, of course, please sit down.” Mr. Creevy glanced nervously around the office and pointed to two soft chairs that stood in the corner of his office. “Tea? Or perhaps you’d like some fresh kefir or strawberry yogurt? It’s all natural, the strawberries are grown on a farm nearby!”
“With pleasure, Rigel.” The woman winked slyly at her daughter, causing the production worker’s jaw to nearly hit the floor.
Under the young Hellsing’s gaze, the chairs rose into the air and floated smoothly toward the desk. She then glanced at the tea set on the shelf, which also soared into the sky and soon landed on his desk. Then a strange black pointer appeared in the girl’s hands and she pointed it at the kettle, which boiled almost instantly. Lady Hellsing nodded approvingly and poured the aromatic drink into cups, not forgetting the cream, while the girl pulled a massive cake from her small purse, which, by all the laws of physics, should not have fit there.
– W-what was that? – The man looked at the cake in surprise and quickly sat down in his chair, his legs trembling treacherously from excitement.
“It’s magic, Mister Creevy,” Rigel smiled cheerfully and shrugged. “I’m sure you’ve encountered its manifestations before, since your children have sometimes performed miracles, too.”
– Are my children the same? – Jake took a cup of hot tea and drank it almost in one gulp. – But where from?
“We know a lot about you, Mr. Creevey, and we’ve come here to discuss their future.” Lady Hellsing accepted a plate of cake from her daughter, who deftly sliced it with an army bayonet.
“Has Colin turned eleven already?” the girl asked, and the office owner nodded affirmatively. “That means one of the Hogwarts deans will bring you a letter soon.”
– What letter? What Hogwarts? – Jake stood up and leaned forward, the tip of his tie immediately landing in the white cream of the pastry. – Here… Damn it… Excuse me.
– May I? – Rigel turned to the man who tried to wipe the garment with a napkin, and then waved the pointer and the tie became as good as new.
– Miracles… – Mr. Creevy looked at the pointer with admiration. – Can my children do this too? It’s a magic wand, right?
“That’s right, Mr. Creevey, and Hogwarts is a school of witchcraft and wizardry where young wizards are taught magic.” The platinum blonde took a sip of tea and sighed heavily. “But there are a few problems. The British Isles are under the Statute of Secrecy, and wizards live in territories hidden from ordinary people…”
For the next couple of hours, Jake listened attentively to the head of the Order of Protestant Knights, and with every word she spoke, he wanted to replace the tea in his cup with something stronger. It turns out wizards have their own little country! They have their own lands, their own laws, and their own currency, and the government knows about it and hides their existence from ordinary people. Mr. Creevey would have considered this complete nonsense, but Lady Hellsing herself sat before him, and her daughter had demonstrated magic several more times. Jake guessed that if his two sons could perform miracles, there must be others. He even speculated that there was some secret government school for gifted children, but an entire closed community.
When the head of the Creevey family had recovered somewhat from the shock, a platinum blonde placed a thick book titled The Code of Magical Britain in front of him , and the man suddenly felt uneasy. It turned out that his children were nothing more than disenfranchised Mudbloods, and that they were, by birthright, citizens of Magical Britain. Jake was very displeased with the wizarding laws, as was his contract with the school, which he couldn’t opt out of. He wouldn’t even be able to pay for his children’s education, as there was a limit on exchanging pounds for wizard currency. And when the conversation turned to the annual auction at which the Ministry sells the contracts of students who have passed their OWLs, his nerves gave out and he pulled a bottle of bourbon from his desk drawer.
“Lady Hellsing, I understand you didn’t come to me to tell me about the Wizarding World.” Jake drank some cake after drinking his alcohol. “Surely there are ways to protect my children from this,” the man tapped the book with his finger, “Nazi manuals.”
“Yes, Mr. Creevey, I’m very grateful to you for saving my daughter, and I’ll pay for your children’s education at Hogwarts, and after their fifth year, they’ll be able to return to the big world and get a proper education.” The platinum blonde pulled a cigarette case from her pocket and lit a cigarette. “I’d also like to offer your family vassalage, so your children will be under the protection of the Order, but that’s up to you.”
“I agree! Where should I sign?” The man slammed his cup down on the table and pulled out an expensive fountain pen.
“So quickly?” Lady Hellsing looked at her interlocutor in surprise; her daughter even choked on her tea. “You haven’t even seen the terms of the contract yet.”
“Lady Hellsing, I’m a patriot and I love the Empire. I once dreamed of serving in your Order myself, but I was rejected, and now I understand why.” Jake sighed heavily. “I love my children very much and want only the best for them. If it means serving for several years in the Empire’s finest unit for their safety, then I’m all for it! Besides, the boys admire you and will be happy.”
“The minimum term of service is ten years.” Lady Hellsing’s daughter spoke up. “Mr. Creevey, perhaps you could discuss our proposal with your family first?”
“Not that much,” the man shrugged, “by thirty the guys will finish their service and go to study, and then maybe they’ll continue my work, or maybe they’ll stay in the Order.”
“Not quite so, Mr. Creevey.” The platinum blonde pulled several sheets of stamped paper from her inside pocket. “Hogwarts doesn’t teach regular school subjects, so I’ll arrange for your sons to enroll in correspondence courses at the Imperial High School. Once the children complete five years and receive their OWL results, they’ll leave the Wizarding World and continue their education at a regular school, then enroll in a higher education institution—the choice is yours. I’ll cover all expenses,” the woman smiled predatorily. “There are very few powerful wizards in the Order, so they need to receive a well-rounded education.”
“I repeat, I agree!” Jake smiled contentedly. He himself had wanted to ask the Iron Lady for vassalage, but doing so now would have been sheer impudence. He had planned to ask in a month or six months, but now he had been given such an honor; it would have been a sin to refuse.
For the next half hour, the head of the fermented milk factory carefully studied the vassal treaty, at Lady Hellsing’s request, and finally signed it with a strange quill that seemed to be written in blood. Once all the formalities were completed and Jake received the vassal treaty, the green-eyed girl began to instruct him.
“Mr. Creevey, when a Hogwarts teacher comes to see you, immediately show him the document stating that you are vassals of the Hellsing family, take the envelope with the letter, and politely ask this person to leave. You will go shopping for school with us.” The girl’s face was extremely serious. “Under no circumstances sign anything, and if this person points a wand at you, strike immediately to kill.”
Rigel took a small metal box out of her purse and placed it on the table. Inside was a standard Glock 17, only a little unusual, covered in strange drawings.
“Remember,” the young Hellsing showed the man her black pointer, “this is a magical concentrator. It can work miracles,” she waved it, and the cup on the table turned into a tit, “or it can kill or worse.”
The girl spun around abruptly and, whispering an incomprehensible phrase, pointed her wand at the vase of flowers sitting on the windowsill. A violet beam struck the center of the vase, and the glass ornament crumbled into black dust before his eyes. The man swallowed nervously and looked at the wooden object with a new look.
“The weapons and ammunition for them are special and designed for use against wizards.” Lady Hellsing rose calmly from her chair. “It’s unlikely that it will come to that, but it’s better to be on the safe side. My men will come to you tomorrow and set up protection, and they’ll explain everything to you on the spot.”
“I understand everything, and what time will they arrive?” Jake took out his pistol and habitually removed the magazine with faintly glowing cartridges.
“In the morning, so it’s best to take the day off; the process is quite long.” The blonde began to get ready. “You have my phone number, so as soon as you receive the letter, call me right away, and we’ll arrange a time and place for our meeting. And now it’s time for us to go. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Creevy.”
“One moment, Lady Hellsing, I have one last question for you,” the man nervously adjusted his tie. “The contract with the Ministry of Defense and the business development grant—that’s your job, right?”
“Oh, come on, I just treated my friends at General Headquarters to some milk from your farm,” the woman smiled slyly. “It was the least I could do. Thanks to you, I have a daughter and an heir. I hope this information remains between us?”
– Of course, of course! – Jake nodded contentedly.
“Thank you, Mr. Creevy,” Lady Hellsing nodded contentedly. “See you later.”
“Just Jake, to you I’m just Jake.” The man ignored all the aristocratic quirks, not that he really knew any, and so he went to hug his overlord and little Rigel.
When the guests left the office, Jake poured himself three more fingers of wine and, saluting the heavens, drained the glass contentedly. He had just witnessed divine providence, as his grandfather had said: the Creator rewards and punishes through people, and so it turned out. Many years ago, he saved an innocent girl, and the Creator rewarded him for it. His grateful mother helped him develop the farm, and now he has become a vassal of the sacred Hellsing family.
To celebrate, he urgently needs to throw a family party, and at the same time launch a new line of yogurts and cheeses in honor of the Order of Protestant Knights. Tonight, he’ll delight his family and challenge Nancy to come up with a name for the new products.
***
The day after visiting Mr. Creevey, or Jake, as he insisted on being called, we had a hen party. In the morning, Elvira, Victoria, Laurie, and I piled into the car and headed to central London, where Hermione was already waiting. Hermione was momentarily taken aback when she saw us, as Victoria and Laurie were wearing short, flowing dresses, not the usual Hellsing uniforms. While the vampire’s uniform is distinctive and memorable, Laurie wears a standard outfit. Only now did we appreciate her chiseled figure; if only she could get rid of the scars…
We spent the entire day simply strolling along the summer streets of the capital of the British Empire—London is especially beautiful in summer—and along the way, we visited interesting cafes and popped into shopping malls. During our walk, I told the girls about a new addition to the Hellsing family’s vassal regiment and recounted in detail my meeting with Mr. Creevey. Elvira was quite surprised by the man’s ease in accepting our proposal, but I wasn’t so sure; my mother and I had previously studied the milkman’s psychological profile and liked him.
Jake Creevy is a true patriot and simply a good man. Born and raised on a farm, his parents weren’t wealthy, so he enlisted in the army straight after high school. To help his parents, our new vassal extended his contract twice, serving a total of seven years in the military. During his years of service in the Afrika Korps, Senior Sergeant Creevy was repeatedly recommended for awards. It was there that he met members of the Order, as local shamans had become active in the area covered by the mechanized corps where Creevy served. Regular bullets aren’t particularly effective against the infernals, so Hellsing’s Third Company was deployed, and our knights quickly cleared the area.
After that, our milkman applied for a transfer twice, but alas—he’s an ordinary man without a drop of magic, but his wife is a different matter! The chances of two mundanes having a wizard are extremely low, as a magically gifted baby can severely damage a mother’s energy during birth, as Hermione is a case in point. This is certainly fixable, but it requires a master healer, and the Creeveys hadn’t applied to St. Mungo’s. After a simple test, they planted a magic book on Nancy, and we discovered she was a witch. We didn’t dig any further; the woman grew up in an orphanage, and finding out who planted her there was simply impossible; there were no cameras back then, and the nurse on duty had long since died.
Upon returning home, Jake enrolled in university—the Empire pays for the entire education of such heroes—then got married and began pursuing his passion. He had money, thanks to his service, and he had brains, too. So soon his farm began to prosper and slowly develop, and then he had children. I think that’s why he reacted so calmly to the magic, since there were two other mischief-makers just down the road. After finishing discussing the cheerful milkman, the girls and I moved on to other topics, with Victoria and Lori also keeping the conversation going and the atmosphere light.
That evening, as we were all sitting in a summer café, lazily getting ready to go home, some tipsy Latino started pestering us. A hot Mexican, or something like that, approached our table, dressed in an expensive white shirt and pants, also wearing gold cauldrons, a bracelet, and a huge chain around his neck. To my surprise, there were no gold teeth, only a couple of hefty rings.
“Hey, beautiful senoritas, allow me to introduce myself, Juan Pablo Escopar!” this miracle spoke in broken English, devouring Victoria with his gaze; her translucent dress made many men turn their necks.
“Listen, sir, go on your way and don’t disturb the children and me while we relax,” Laurie said politely to the impudent fellow.
“No need to be rude, beauty,” the amigo grimaced, looking at the girl with the disfigured face. “I just want to buy your friend a drink, and I’ll buy your kids one too!”
“Why such generosity?” Victoria smiled tenderly and tilted her head to the side.
“And I’m always generous with girls!” The hot South American guy proudly raised his head and squared his shoulders. “Especially with hot ones like you. Want me to take you to Bolivia? You can wear a bikini and sip cocktails at my villa all day and night. Just tell me your first name, and I’ll give you my last name, just like that.”
“Thank you for the offer, but I’ll have to decline,” Victoria replied to this would-be pickup artist with pursed lips. “Goodbye.”
“Oh, what a proud and unapproachable senorita!” This parrot finally “spread his tail” and brazenly sat down at our table. “Juan Pablo always gets his way; there wasn’t a single fortress I couldn’t conquer! What’s your name, little one?”
Lori and I had already clenched our fists and were looking at each other to agree on who would be the first to beat this amigo, but the vampire got ahead of us.
“Victoria,” the golden-haired beauty with a stunning figure looked the Latino straight in the eye and rose smoothly from the table. “Come with me, sweetie pie.”
Under our stunned gazes, the vampire quickly disappeared around the corner, and the hot and brazen Juan ran after her like a little dog. Captain Seras returned five minutes later and, calmly sitting down at the table, began finishing her dessert.
– Where is Juan? – Elvira looked suspiciously at Victoria.
“He’s resting in the alley,” the vampire took a sip of juice and looked at us. “Well, I couldn’t just hit him right there. I took him aside and knocked him out, maybe I broke something.” The girl shrugged. “At least that cutlet won’t bother us again.”
My friends nodded approvingly, and I, sitting closest, noticed a couple of dark burgundy drops on the collar of my nanny’s red dress, but why mention it out loud? Juan wanted to buy Victoria a drink—Juan bought Victoria a drink. May the earth be made of glass wool for him…
At this point our walk came to an end and we went home satisfied, well-fed and rested, especially since we had a small family celebration planned for tomorrow.
***
My birthday was a quiet and homely affair. The Grangers came to visit, and we first had a delicious lunch and then enjoyed a birthday cake. Justin congratulated me over the Wonderphone, the Finch-Fletchley family left for Australia, and the Weasleys and other Hogwarts friends sent congratulatory letters and sweets.
When we had all eaten, drunk, and talked enough, Alucard got up from the table and disappeared, only to appear in front of me a few moments later with a huge blood-red coffin, or rather, a wooden box.
“Happy birthday, young lady.” The guardian of our family smiled slyly and carefully placed the gift on the floor. “I think you’ll like it.”
“Thank you.” I looked suspiciously at the ancient monster, then turned my gaze to a satisfied Victoria, who was already standing nearby, and took the heavy crowbar from her hands.
The wooden lid turned out to be nailed securely to the box with 100mm nails. While I was prying it open, under the interested gaze of everyone, I thought a lot: first, about Uncle Alik being a real troll, because there were a shitload of nails and I spent about half an hour screwing around with the crowbar. Then I wondered what would happen if I suddenly brought the crowbar down on the foot of one of those snarky vampires, or maybe even on their head. And finally, when the air started to leave my lungs along with the curses and the heavy lid began to give way, I really hoped that what was inside wasn’t another pink thing.
When I finally managed it and, with a satisfied grin, telekinetically flung the lid aside, Alucard “completely accidentally” found himself in its path, but he, like Neo from The Matrix, deftly dodged and broke into a sly grin, the fanged bastard. I gave the vampire a promising look and peered into the wooden box; my efforts had not been in vain.
Inside, on special stands, lay two extremely unusual brooms. Their polished shafts were a bright scarlet, and razor-sharp spikes were crudely welded onto the outside of the black metal footrests. The perfectly straight rods, like the shafts, were red, only slightly darker. Looking closer, I noticed inscriptions on the flying machines: Morka and Gorka, written in black paint.
I gazed admiringly at the brooms. They were beautiful in their terrifying, brutal beauty, as if they’d been dipped in a vat of blood, giving them that color—the color of freshly spilled blood. Looking closer, I realized the names Mork and Gork weren’t written in black paint, but burned with hot metal and literally imprinted into the shafts.
Gorgeous! I was about to ask my mom to buy me a broom the next time I visited Diagon Alley, because I really enjoyed flying; only in the sky can you experience that unforgettable feeling of freedom. I grinned contentedly and, meeting the ancient monster’s gaze, nodded gratefully. I’ll have to give that prankster something like that for Christmas.
“They used to be regular Nimbus 2001s , but Master improved them!” Victoria put a satisfied hand on my shoulder. “Flying alone is boring, so we made a second one for Hermione.”
– Thank you! – I ran my finger along the wooden shaft in admiration.
It might seem like Elvira was simply forgotten, since the gift was only for the two of us, but everyone here knows the black-haired witch is terrified of heights. Smith barely passed her flying test; at Hogwarts, the girl barely managed to climb a meter without blinking and performed a lap of honor around the clearing where the lesson was held, squealing loudly. But thanks to her efforts and a large bottle of expensive whiskey passed on by Filch, Madam Hooch gave her a passing grade.
“Rigel, remember: Morka is maneuverable but fast, and Gorka is fast but maneuverable.” The vampiress explained the differences between the two identical ash trucks with a knowing look.
“And the color red was chosen in honor of Gryffindor’s colors?” Hermione asked as she approached and began to examine our gifts with interest.
“Red means fast!” Alucard replied proudly and grinned.
– I see, – I rubbed my hands contentedly and looked at my mother. – And where can I fly around here?
– Right in the backyard, above the training ground. – The blonde winked at me cheerfully. – Let’s go see some real witches!
Our whole group poured out into the street, and my friend and I immediately saddled up with our gifts. What can I say, compared to the upgraded Nimbus, the GOMIK is like a Zhiguli versus a Ferrari—the difference was colossal. My Gorka obeyed me perfectly and reached monstrous speeds, while turning instantly and obeying every mental command.
– YOO-HOO! – Hermione did a barrel roll and quickly went up.
My friend and I spent the next couple of hours in the sky, only occasionally descending to earth to soak up some lemonade. Dan was the most delighted with our gift; he clapped like a child at every turn and stunt, loudly cheering us on. Having had our fill of flying, we returned to our family, took a few souvenir photos, and returned to the table.
Half an hour later, Victoria stood up from her seat and disappeared, only to appear in front of me with a bright pink, bitch, RPG-7 in her hands.
“Little sister, I decided to give you a present too!” the vampire was practically glowing with happiness. “The owner helped me a little, of course, but I did most of the work myself.” The girl happily handed me a pink babakha. “Meet Igor.”
“Why pink?” I sighed heavily and looked fatalistically at the nanny, who was holding out the gift to me with outstretched arms.
“But it’s your favorite color!” Victoria replied as if it were obvious. “Master told me so, and Mistress confirmed it.”
– HA-HA-HA! – Mom and Alucard burst into uncharacteristic laughter at the same time, then the Grangers joined in, and then I couldn’t hold back either.
“Thank you.” Having finished laughing, I hugged the vampire and placed the menacing bomb on the table, then looked slyly at my mother. “And you’re Brutus?”
In response, the platinum blonde shrugged and raised her wine glass with a cheerful smile. I smiled back and raised my glass of pomegranate juice.
The end of the get-together was much more fun and emotional; Victoria’s gift was the trigger, and everyone present finally relaxed. We were like one big family and socialized accordingly. Dan even managed to persuade Walter to join us, and then tried to outdrink him. In vain… Late in the evening, our unflappable butler carefully laid the sleeping head of the Granger family in the backseat of their car, and a rocking Jean sat next to him—thankfully, we always have a sober driver in the form of loyal and devoted soldiers. Accompanied by a military jeep, our friends headed home, and we headed to our apartments.
A Textbook of Magic, 2nd Year by Miranda Gossock
Novice Auror, 2nd year. Gilderoy Lockhart
List of recommended (optional) additional literature on the Law on the Protection of the Transport Injuries:
Encounters with Vampires. Gilderoy Lockhart
Spirits on the roads. Gilderoy Lockhart
Holiday with a Hag by Gilderoy Lockhart
Defeating the Ghost. Gilderoy Lockhart
Troll Trail. Gilderoy Lockhart
Having fun with ghouls. Gilderoy Lockhart
Yorkshire Yeti. Gilderoy Lockhart
I sat in my room and reread the letter from Hogwarts. It seemed different in the movies; there, the peacock simply listed all his fiction books, while here they’re just recommended. I hope he’ll teach properly, too, and not like in the movies, but I’ll only be able to test that at school. I’ve already puzzled my mother, and she promised to gather all the information she can find on our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher; a month should be enough.
Jake called us this afternoon and told us that Professor McGonagall had come to see him and handed Colin an invitation letter, and then simply left, no fuss. It must have been the vassal treaty with Hellsing that had gotten to her, or maybe the anti-magic field our soldiers deployed over the Creevey house.
We were just about to head to Diagon Alley, waiting for a call from Mrs. Weasley—those wizards know their way around a telephone. After talking to the red-haired woman, we collectively decided not to put off until tomorrow what could be done the day after. After all, on August 3rd, there’s a new book launch and a book signing with the handsome Gilderoy Lockhart, and we simply must attend! I had to agree that soon I’d meet the world-famous fighter against the Dark Arts in person, and I hope he turns out to be more of a phony than in the movies. Otherwise, I’ll enter the exact date of the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher’s death in the betting pool, and write “explosive bullet to the head” as the cause. But that’s all for later; today I need to shoot Igor.
