Chapter 94
I sat in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, grinning sheepishly as I watched the snow-covered fields and forests flash past the window. The engine, puffing black smoke and clacking its wheels on the rails, carried restless students to Scotland. The holidays were finally over, and our group was reunited. How I’d missed my friends! Tearing my gaze away from the window, I turned to Ron, who was cheerfully telling me about how he and his brothers had gone to a Chudley Cannons match in early January and how they’d lost miserably. Before that, we’d all listened to Justin and Hermione’s stories about their adventures on vacation; the boys had brought back a ton of photos, not just souvenirs. It was funny to see how Finch-Fletchley, sunbathing on the deck of a cruise ship, and Mia, posing in a ski suit against a backdrop of snow-capped mountains, fit together on the same spread. Unlike the guys, I didn’t have much to brag about, as these winter holidays turned out to be the longest and most boring of my life, of both my lives.
It all started on Christmas morning, as the whole family was unpacking presents under the tree, when a sweaty Sir Islandes burst into the estate, accompanied by several concerned officers from the General Staff. The esteemed aristocrat quietly whispered something in my mother’s ear; she took a few moments to process the information, and then let out such a volley of obscenities that longshoremen and seasoned shoemakers would have simply envied her. Having finished her linguistic construction, Integra quickly ran to her quarters, and ten minutes later, she was already on her way to the General Staff.
Only that evening did I learn from the news that the Latinos had decided to surprise the Yankees and launched a full-scale Christmas offensive. The South American freedom fighters were hoping for the element of surprise, so they “forgot” to warn their British-Soviet allies of their plans. In a matter of hours, the Latinos managed to capture a dozen major cities and even destroyed several American military bases, but then the Yankees came to their senses (or at least sobered up), and the offensive petered out.
The Americans were deeply offended by the Latinos’ violation of the Christmas truce and committed all available resources to the battle, including long-range bombers and the Tenth Legion, the equivalent of Hellsing or Vityaz. By evening, the Americans had recaptured their lost positions, while many South American cities were ablaze under thousands of tons of napalm and phosphorus bombs. Moreover, the Yankees began actively patrolling coastal waters and sinking any ships approaching the continent. Only after suffering massive losses and returning to the jungle did the Latinos remember their overseas allies and, naturally, began demanding aid, the impudent bastards.
My mother, like other high-ranking officers in the Imperial Army, spent the entire Christmas holidays at General Headquarters. I called my grandfather; they were going through a similar situation in the Union. The Latinos had suffered such massive losses and were in such deep trouble that our generals were clutching their heads and gulping down sedatives. Someone even suggested finishing off the idiots and not wasting resources. However, London and Moscow, to put it mildly, were reluctant to see the US strengthen its grip in the region, so extreme measures were necessary. To somehow salvage the situation, the Empire and the Union were forced to urgently dispatch a combined force of “volunteers” from Hellsing and Vityaz to South America. Guess who led the rescue operation? That’s right, such a crucial task was placed on the fragile shoulders of Integra Hellsing.
Mom practically moved to London for two weeks, and I saw her only a couple of times during that time, along with Victoria and Walter—the two of them accompanied the head of the Order everywhere. So, I spent the entire Christmas break sitting at home, splendidly alone, bored out of my mind. Of course, I could have taken a couple of escorts and walked around London or visited the Weasleys, but I was strictly forbidden to leave the estate! And once again, it’s the Latins, or rather the sly Yankees, who are to blame for everything.
The Americans aren’t fools and have long since figured out who is supplying the South American freedom fighters with weapons and ammunition, and the Christmas offensive spurred their intelligence agencies into action. On December 26th, the second day of merry military games, Victoria eliminated two groups of snipers. These bastards were armed with enchanted high-caliber rifles, almost like Hermione’s, and set up a clever ambush along the route of Integra’s Rolls-Royce. Their plan would have had every chance of success if not for the intuition of one restless vampire, who even managed to capture a couple of the snipers alive! But that was only the beginning…
A few hours later, several terrorist attacks occurred in London, killing five high-ranking generals and their families. American agents didn’t bother, simply shooting up houses and cars with hand-held grenade launchers. But that wasn’t what prompted my mother to place me under house arrest. That same day, an assassination attempt was made on the son of the Duke of Lancaster, who also happened to be the head of the UEBI.
Jacob and his fiancée, accompanied by a pair of security guards, were strolling through Soho, enjoying the Christmas hustle and bustle, when a suicide bomber snuck up on them and blew himself up. The Empire’s upper crust is heavily adorned with protective artifacts, and the Americans knew this, so the suicide bomber’s belt was packed with shrapnel made of cold iron and pure silver. The explosion was so powerful that it damaged facades and shattered windows in nearby buildings, but Jacob was lucky – he survived, unlike his fiancée. The woman was in the path of the blast and absorbed most of the shrapnel, saving her fiancé’s life. The attack killed nine people and seriously injured forty-seven, including Jacob Lancaster.
This terrorist attack infuriated Her Majesty, and she granted the Duke of Lancaster sweeping powers. The wounded hadn’t even been taken to hospitals yet, but the police and Scotland Yard, supported by the Royal Guard, had already begun detaining the first suspects. Meanwhile, the EBIS began actively combing the aristocracy and even found a couple of traitors. Meanwhile, every available Hellsing fighter was put on alert and sent to guard important government facilities. The estate’s defenses weren’t forgotten either; they were beefed up to the max, even bringing in a company of super-heavy tanks. And I watched all this unfolding from my bedroom window. It sucks to be a kid.
So, I spent two weeks sitting at home, poring over the family library, and when I got bored, I’d play the Dendy-like console my mom gave me for Christmas. It might seem strange to some that a grown woman, with a past life under her belt and mentally well into her forties, would sit silently at home playing something akin to Mario. I don’t know how to explain it myself, but with each passing day, the memories of my past life became more and more like a dream or a nightmare. Many moments began to fade over time, and I increasingly succumbed to emotions and momentary desires, like a child… or, in fact, a teenager, which is what I am.
One long evening, I carefully analyzed my behavior over the past few years and understood the reason for my inadequacy. The thing is, many years ago, I became afraid and didn’t want to remain an adult in a child’s body. Even while I was in the hospital, I knew I would have to interact with children, but how could an adult do that? Then I made a fateful decision and began merging the personalities of Rigel Hellsing and Elena Ivanova, with the girl taking the lead. Elena was much older, possessed of vast life experience, and could easily absorb the personality of little Rigel, but I didn’t allow it. And once I arrived at the Hellsing estate and began studying Occlumency, I continued to strengthen the girl’s personality, helping her assimilate the life experiences of an adult woman. In this way, I didn’t allow myself to remain an adult in a child’s body; instead, I became a little girl with the memories and life experiences of Elena Ivanova. But I forgot about childhood emotions with hormones that cannot be suppressed.
Why did I do it? I don’t know, but at the time, it felt right, and my child’s body needed something like this, it’s hard to explain. Perhaps I made a fatal mistake, but the childhood emotions I experienced were worth it. For once, I was an ordinary child who had a REAL MOTHER! I hadn’t had anything like this in my past life, having grown up in an orphanage in a provincial town and perhaps I simply decided to make up for lost time, who knows…
Do I regret what I did? Not one bit. I’m only twelve years old in this life, and I have a long, fulfilling life ahead of me. Yet, Elena Ivanova’s memories and life experiences remain with me. Yes, some moments from my past life make me want to puke or cry, but these are MY memories, and I can’t escape them. Besides, they’ve become much duller and no longer influence my behavior. The two personalities have completely merged, and the child’s one, Rigel, has long since become the rightful owner of this body. I can enjoy the little things and smile, and that’s worth a lot! Could a grown woman in a little girl’s body greet her friends with a smile? That’s what I’m thinking…
At the same time, I didn’t become a stupid, naive child; some aspects of my childhood and past life simply wouldn’t have allowed that. True, sometimes I think I still have a bit of a split personality, as at times the inquisitive girl was replaced by a disgruntled, grumpy woman. Moreover, both personalities were characterized by cruelty and sadism. Maybe that’s madness? Who knows, but I even like it.
Having shaken off my unpleasant thoughts and introspection, I returned to my friends. My gaze swept over their cheerful faces and lingered on Elvira, who was fast asleep and unresponsive. The girl had only arrived from the Union the previous evening, “prettier” than before, with a deathly pallor and dark circles under her eyes. She wouldn’t share the details of her adventures, citing a secrecy oath, but it was clear she’d been dealt a severe blow by the Black One. My grandfather’s daughter-in-law was furious when she learned of her breakdown at Hogwarts and promised to discipline her. That’s probably why I didn’t punish Elka severely, only making her memorize the Hellsing Charter, as I knew perfectly well what Valentina the Black One’s sick imagination was capable of; it runs in our family.
– … and after the game we went to the fair. – Ron, smiling and satisfied, caught my attention. – There were performers and musicians, and then there were all sorts of competitions. There was even a small Gobstone tournament, where Fred and George won a huge plush Exploding Potato for Ginny. It looks so alive and even runs, only… – Ginger scratched the back of his head awkwardly. – Mum didn’t really like it, it stomps loudly, and when it farts, a stream of fire comes out from under its tail, even the curtain in the kitchen caught fire. But we quickly put it out!
“It’s a good toy, useful.” Justin nodded thoughtfully. “Where can you buy one like that?”
“I don’t know,” Weasley shrugged. “Zonko’s, probably. Why do you need it?”
“I just got curious,” the young aristocrat replied. “I’ve been to Diagon Alley a few times, but I’ve never seen a toy store.”
“You were looking in the wrong place, mate.” Ron grinned cheerfully. “There’s Zonko’s not far from Fortescue’s, and right across from it is the Whispering Whisperer. I’ll take you there this summer. They sell so much stuff there! About four years ago, Cedric was given a couple of huge pirate ships with boarding crews, and we had a great battle on the lake then.”
“You’ve intrigued me.” Mia had just put her photo album back in her bag. “It’s a shame Chamonix didn’t have a magical quarter, but I did find…”
My best friend started telling us about the sights of the French town, and we all pricked up our ears. We chatted like that until we arrived in Hogsmeade, occasionally stopping for hearty snacks. The trip itself was calm and uneventful, no fights, no drinking. The same peace and order had been maintained on the train on our previous trip to London, all thanks to the professor on duty. What had stopped Dumbledore or the board of governors from sending a grown wizard along with a crowd of restless children and teenagers before? Just one professor, and the train was peaceful and tranquil, the students sitting quietly in their compartments! It “only” took the injury of the Deputy Head of Aurors’ son to introduce this innovation; I couldn’t see any other reason for a Defense of the Arts professor to be on duty on the train.
At the station, we were met by the deans, who marked every student leaving the carriages on parchment. Many of the older students were surprised, as this had never happened before. The twins even mentioned Smithers, who had been “accidentally” thrown off the train a couple of years ago, preventing him from showing up at school until the next day. And then we were all counted, inspected, and only then sent off to the sleigh carriages. It seemed Dumbledore had gotten a dressing down for the mess going on at school, and he’d decided to restore order. We’ll see how long he lasts.
Entering the great hall, I habitually looked up and once again admired the illusion of a clear starry sky on the ceiling. After all, the Founders were great wizards; these four inspired genuine respect in me. A thousand years had passed, and the spells they created still worked flawlessly; that was true magic! Looking down, I joined the crowd of students and soon took my seat at the long table.
Sitting on a less-than-comfortable bench, I greeted the new arrivals every now and then, exchanging a few words with each. I’d been so tired of being splendidly alone for two weeks that I was glad for any interaction. Lavender and Parvati vied with each other to share the latest rumors and gossip, Creevey boasted about a new flash for his Magic Camera, Wood shouted something loudly about a new tactic he’d picked up somewhere… It was loud at our house table, as usual, everyone trying to outshout the other. I was surrounded by cheerful laughter and the hubbub of dozens of voices; I never thought I’d be so happy to be at Hogwarts. Even the angry glares of some students couldn’t dampen my spirits.
Dumbledore waited until all the students had taken their seats and then rose majestically from his golden throne. The old man clapped his hands loudly, silencing everyone, and carefully surveyed the house tables.
“I’ll be brief,” the director said, his smile widening. “Welcome back! Now let’s eat!”
The elder sat down, and food immediately appeared on the tables, plenty of delicious and varied fare. The house elves, though slow-witted, were excellent cooks; their fried chicken and cutlets were as good as those in expensive restaurants. The children immediately grabbed cutlery and reached for their favorite dishes; I was no exception, heaping a plate full of them. We’d snacked on the road, of course, but the aromas wafting through the air and the table piled high with food had stimulated quite an appetite.
Having eaten my fill, I pushed my empty plate aside and lazily glanced at the other House tables. Everything was unchanged: the Slytherins were still as pompous and haughty as ever, the Huffs were still grouped together, whispering among themselves, and the Crows were eating without looking up from their books. Waving to my acquaintances, including Diana and Vega, I turned my gaze to the staff table. All the professors were seated in their places, enjoying dessert and making small talk, and against this blissful backdrop, Prince and Lockhart stood out as usual. One was glaring at the returning students with a malicious, hateful gaze, while the other simply grinned like an idiot.
By the way, I almost forgot, dessert! I helped myself to a large slice of cake, then pulled a thermos from my bag and filled my mug with hot, aromatic tea—I’m not a fan of pumpkin juice, by the way. After taking a few sips, I turned to my friends and joined them in discussing their plans for the coming weekend. Justin was just telling them he’d brought a new board game from home, and the others were listening attentively to the rules. At this rate, a new club will soon be forming at Hogwarts, since there are already Monopoly enthusiasts in every house.
“I suggest we shoot tomorrow,” Mia winked at me conspiratorially. “At the station, Victoria gave me new incendiary cartridges for Nemesis.”
“How are they different from the old ones?” I took a sip of tea and picked up a dessert spoon. “Or do you want to burn down the Forbidden Forest? What will we tell Hagrid then?”
“We can’t offend the forester,” the girl rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “So we need to come up with a new target… Any ideas?”
“I don’t know,” I turned around and snuggled closer to my friend. “Maybe we should shoot at the lake?”
– And the mermaids?
– They are deep.
“What if we hit the squid?” Mia frowned. “They even wrote about this relic monster in Hogwarts, a History.”
“You’re right, we won’t get a pat on the head for poaching.” I nodded thoughtfully and pulled away a little. “Okay, we’ll think of something tomorrow.”
“That’s not even up for discussion,” the best friend chuckled and reached for the apple strudel.
I smiled too and turned to the table—the cake wouldn’t eat itself. However, as soon as I raised my spoon to the dessert, Flora appeared before my face. The little fairy waved her tiny hands, then hovered over my dessert and squealed loudly:
– Ugh! Poop! – The little girl’s vocabulary still left much to be desired. – No way!
“Flora, what’s wrong?” I ran the identification ring over the treat, but it remained silent, indicating it was poison-free. “Is something wrong?”
– Dya! Riga! – The fairy theatrically stroked her belly and spat on my dessert. – Ugh! Poop!
– What nonsense. – I looked closely at the piece of cake, but couldn’t find fault with anything. – Mia, any ideas?
– No, but I wouldn’t risk it. – The girl glanced sideways at my plate. – Just in case.
– What happened? – Weasley, like the others, noticed the fairy’s strange behavior. – Flora wants a piece, and you’re being greedy again?
– No! – The little thing continued to circle my cake. – No way!
I pushed my plate away, and Hermione quickly explained the gist of the problem to the redhead and the others: the fairy had smelled something nasty in the dessert, but my family artifact hadn’t detected anything. And that was very strange. The boys paused, Elvira even cast a diagnostic charm, but when she received a response, she shrugged.
– I think I get it! – Ron beamed. – Joke potions! They sell them at Zonko’s, I told you about them today!
– I remember. – I looked at the guy, puzzled. – Why is the ring silent?
– But they’re just a joke. – The red-haired guy looked at me like I was an idiot. – Which means they’re harmless!
– I wonder… – I looked thoughtfully around our table, – who decided to play a joke on me?
“I wonder what the effect is? The twins once bought a pair, Ginny spent half an hour running around with bunny ears, and I got a pig’s snout.” Weasley glanced around furtively and called out to a first-year. “Colin, want some cake?”
– Ron, are you completely out of your mind? – Mia turned to her friend indignantly. – You’re going to eat this cake yourself now!
– Go ahead! – Weasley shrugged and smiled. – I’m genuinely interested.
The boy was already reaching for my plate, but Flora beat him to it. The fairy realized they were actually going to eat the “poop,” so she used magic to lift the treat high above the table and began levitating it. The piece of cake flew several meters and hovered above Potter’s head, where my brother was whispering something to Longbottom. A mischievous smile appeared on the little familiar’s face, and the dessert landed squarely in the center of his black-haired crown. Potter immediately clutched his head, smearing the cream even further. The Gryffindors who saw this immediately burst into loud laughter, and my brother jumped to his feet and began to loudly complain.
– Him! – Flora pointed her finger at the indignant bespectacled man. – The faggot needs to be beaten!
– Agreed, Flower. – Vasya’s face appeared from the sleeve of my robe. – This faggot needs to be beaten.
– Dya! – The fairy made a lap of honor over the table and landed on the snake’s head.
“These two are really getting along,” Hermione said, handing the little one a candy with a sweet smile. “Good girl.”
“And it seems to me…” I muttered in response, without taking my eyes off my indignant brother, “…that Vasya is a bad influence on her.”
– How? – The friend also directed her gaze at Potter, who was smeared with white cream.
– I’ll tell you later.
– Who did this? – Harry was getting more and more angry and glaring around angrily. At some point he looked in my direction, and his green eyes slightly lit up with anger. – YOU!!!
– Me! – Smiling from ear to ear, I waved at him. – Hi!
The students sitting nearby were laughing at the national hero’s reaction to the harmless joke, so most didn’t notice our exchange of glances. Meanwhile, my brother’s face turned red and he reached for his wand, but Dumbledore stopped him. The old man must have noticed that the children had already started throwing food, indicating they were full. The headmaster stood up and clapped his hands loudly, causing the remnants of food to disappear from the tables, and the gilded plates to become perfectly clean, unlike the black-haired, bespectacled boy. Potter, to general laughter, cleansed himself with magic and sat back down, looking offended. Meanwhile, the great wizard amplified his voice with magic and began his welcoming speech.
Dumbledore was enthusiastically speaking of peace and friendship, and I was looking thoughtfully at Potter. The four-eyes boy had somehow slipped something nasty into my plate, and I hadn’t even noticed! My paranoia was running high: today he’d slipped me a joke potion, and tomorrow it would be poison or something worse! Of course, there was the detection ring, but it turned out it didn’t detect everything. I mentally gave myself a powerful kick and began to calm down; the ancestral artifact definitely wouldn’t miss anything serious. Yeah, a dilemma. Oh well, I’ll consult with Elvira this evening, and tomorrow I’ll ask the twins, maybe they’ll have some useful advice. The potions might be joke potions, but I really don’t want to end up a laughingstock in front of the whole school.
“…and lastly, Hogsmeade trips begin next week.” The Headmaster looked at the students with a satisfied smile. “I think that concludes it. Let’s sing the school anthem and head to the common rooms; new discoveries and adventures await us tomorrow!”
“Just a minute! I’d also like to make an important announcement!” the blond DADA teacher jumped up from his seat. “It’s short, but very important!”
“Has Professor Lockhart decided to quit?” Lavender whispered, looking at the handsome man with concern.
The other students also began whispering and fixing their gazes on the smiling wizard, clad in a bright blue robe. This scribbler is quite the poser, but he knows his stuff and teaches superbly, so his departure would be highly undesirable. Because who knows who might be appointed to that damned position?
“Oh, my dear students, I’m not leaving you!” The blond heard the whispers of some impressionable fans and broke into a moronic smile. “I just wanted to let you know that the dueling club will be reopening at Hogwarts soon!”
The students pondered the professor’s words for a few seconds, and then a real hubbub broke out in the great hall. Students began chatting and arguing loudly, and some cast predatory glances at the tables of other houses. I immediately felt a dozen angry glances at me, and the attention made a pistol reflexively appear in my right hand. Some pureblood idiots were already imagining challenging me to a duel and smashing me in front of the entire school—yeah, right! I can do something too, and if anything happened, I didn’t care about rules and restrictions—I’d strike to kill. Luckily, my grandfather taught me a couple of lethal spells.
Realizing that my friends and I would likely be left in no peace for the foreseeable future, I felt a burning desire to shake Lockhart’s neck. Dumbledore and most of the faculty agreed, judging by their surprised and perplexed expressions. However, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor ignored his colleagues and, with a moronic grin, enjoyed the general chaos.
“Please calm down!” Scribbler raised his right hand, and everyone fell silent. “I want to tell you that I will personally oversee the new dueling club and will do everything in my power to ensure that you learn to stand up for yourselves!”
– When will it open? – Someone from the Slytherins shouted, I think it was Flint.
“Um…” Lockhart glanced at Dumbledore, who was looking at him with the kind, fatherly smile of an elderly crocodile. “Soon.”
“I’d like to add something,” the elder finished examining his subordinate and gave the students a stern look, which noticeably dampened the combative mood of many. “Dueling is still strictly forbidden within the walls of Hogwarts! If any of you dare challenge another student to a duel, any kind, you will be expelled that very day! This is a school, not a place for squabbles. Is that clear to everyone?!”
“I completely agree with you, Director,” the professor agreed.
“That’s great,” the light mage nodded contentedly. “Now let’s sing the school anthem!”
Music began playing in the large hall, and Mia immediately cast a blanket of silence over our group, but even through it, the screams of a few particularly loud students could be heard. About five minutes later, when the last of the screamers had quieted down, the principal bid everyone goodnight, and we hurried to the common rooms.
All the way to Gryffindor Tower, I wondered how Lockhart had managed to arrange something like this without Dumbledore’s knowledge. Otherwise, the old man wouldn’t have been so surprised, and he’s king and god at Hogwarts, after all… Or was there someone else who could influence the academic process? But as soon as I found myself in my bedroom and saw the cozy bed, all thoughts left my head—I was incredibly sleepy, and I’d soon find out the details anyway.
***
This January night was unusually clear and frosty, making the bright moon in the sky seem slightly larger than usual. Dumbledore looked out the window wistfully; in such weather, he loved to reflect and admire the castle’s surroundings, but today he had no time for that. The fireplace and a few candles provided little light, creating a pleasant semi-darkness in the office, befitting its owner’s gloomy mood. Albus took a sip of tea and thoughtfully surveyed his subordinates. A small table stood before him, at which sat the deans of the House and one particularly enterprising professor.
“Gilderoy, my boy, why are my colleagues and I learning about such a momentous event along with the rest of the students?” Albus addressed his subordinate gently. “You should have warned us in advance.”
“I completely agree with you, Albus.” Minerva looked at the writer with an offended expression. “I just approved the new class schedule yesterday! And now I have to redo everything!”
“I wanted to give you a surprise,” Gilderoy said, giving one of his most idiotic smiles. “And it was a success!”
“Only a first-year could come up with such an excuse,” the disgruntled Head of Slytherin grumbled. “Professor Lockhart, perhaps you’d be so kind as to enlighten us? Why don’t the Deans know that a dueling club has opened at Hogwarts?” The Potions Master’s voice was thick with venom, and for once, everyone present agreed with him.
The other deans nodded in unison, all the while glaring at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor with rather disapproving glances. He smiled slyly and pulled a thick folder from his pocket. With a wave of his wand, Lockhart duplicated it and sent copies to each of his colleagues, while the original migrated to Dumbledore’s desk.
“A couple of weeks ago, at a gala reception, I met the incomparable Narcissa Malfoy and her lovely friends.” The talented writer waited until everyone had begun studying the document before beginning his story. “We got to talking for a bit, and one of the lovely ladies complained that Hogwarts has too few extracurricular activities, and that her children get bored after school…”
“And what does this story have to do with a dueling club that looks more like a Defense of the Ancients club?” The prince looked up from the text and tapped his finger distastefully on the thick parchment. “I also sometimes communicate with Narcissa Malfoy, but I’ve never heard her say the children are bored at school.”
“Lady Greengrass suggested the idea; she remembered the recent attack on her daughter…” Lockhart continued to smile contentedly. “That wonderful evening, we suggested that if the girl had known how to stand up for herself, something like this would not have happened. So I suggested teaching the children the basics of self-defense, and the lovely ladies happily supported the idea.”
“Gilderoy, my boy, this is an excellent undertaking, I would even say noble.” Albus looked up from the folder of documents and looked closely at the enterprising scribbler. “But why didn’t you consult me first?”
“We’ve already discussed this, and you said the board of trustees would be categorically opposed, remember?” The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor gave a naive smile. “You said then that the dueling club was very dangerous, and you, like other respected wizards, are concerned about the lives and health of your students.”
“I stand by my words.” Dumbledore nodded slightly and turned the page. “But you didn’t answer my question.”
“I didn’t want to distract you during the Christmas holidays, because at your advanced age, rest is absolutely essential.” Gilderoy shook his head, and one of the deans chuckled softly. “Especially since Lucius Malfoy liked my idea, and he’s the head of the board of governors. Then it took me almost two weeks to agree on all the details, and I only received the final seal from the Ministry this evening. It was just a coincidence.”
Dumbledore looked at the cunning writer, unsure how to react to his prank. On the one hand, Lockhart had done a tremendous amount of work, practically from scratch developing clear and well-structured regulations for the new Defense Against the Dark Arts (DADA) club. Such classes would indeed be useful, and the catchy name would only attract more participants. But on the other hand, this scribbler had allied with Lucius, and the two blonds had pulled it all off behind his, Albus’s, back. And since there was a loophole, they might push through something else next time, and perhaps even something useful. This was something worth considering, but for now, the headmaster recalled a saying about initiators.
“I understand, you worked hard for the children, that’s commendable.” Albus flashed his half-moon glasses. “Gilderoy, my boy, have you already figured out how to fit this club into your busy schedule? I understand you’re young and full of energy, but we all need sleep, and you have so much to do. Or have you decided to put your scientific research on hold?”
“No, of course not! I’ll definitely dispel the myth of that damned position.” Lockhart stuck his nose up in the air. “And as for the Defense Against the Dark Arts club, they’ll help me!”
– Who? – The deans sitting at the table simultaneously looked at the writer.
“You!” Gilderoy grinned contentedly. “It’s all written on the last page. Professor Prince and Professor Flitwick will be assisting me, as you both have experience in dueling. The school’s mediwizard will also be present in the dueling room at all times, and Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout will be keeping order in the stands.”
The deans were, to put it mildly, stunned by this statement and immediately began searching for the relevant page. Dumbledore continued to look at his subordinates and smile paternally, realizing that Lockhart’s initiative had just made him enemies in the form of his disgruntled colleagues. From now on, any idea or proposal he made would be met with hostility unless the respected wizards decided to resort to drastic measures, something similar had already happened several years ago. The body of the overly active and intrusive Professor Dringle was never found; Albus hadn’t thought Pomona so easily offended. But the headmaster said nothing out loud and continued to watch silently.
“I have enough of the company of stupid idiots in my classes!” The prince glared at his colleague. “I refuse to take part in this farce!”
“You’ll have to, colleagues…” Lockhart sighed heavily. “This is the decision of the Board of Trustees and the Department of Magical Education.”
“Is there any extra pay for the extra workload?” Flitwick barely suppressed a bloodthirsty grin.
“Filius, turn to page forty-five…” Dumbledore gave his old friend a hint. “Everything is described there in detail.”
– How much?! – A minute later, the half-goblin jumped up from his chair and let out an indignant cry, then looked angrily at the young professor. – Gilderoy, I didn’t expect this from you.
“The ministry sets the rates.” The talented writer shrugged. “I have nothing to do with it.”
The little professor sat down silently, but Dumbledore noticed his old friend meet the Prince’s gaze and nod slightly. It seemed the two were up to something, but the Headmaster wouldn’t interfere; they’d figure it out themselves—they weren’t little kids.
“I think one lesson a month will be enough!” Minerva pursed her lips and pushed the folder away from her with disgust. “I simply can’t spare any more time.”
“The regulations require at least one class per week.” Lockhart glanced sarcastically at the deputy director. “That’s what the board of trustees decided.”
“This is outrageous!” McGonagall turned her gaze to the Headmaster. “Where will I find so much free time?!”
“Come on, colleagues, pull yourself together.” Dumbledore held out his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “You must admit, a Defense Against the Dark Arts club is a wonderful idea, but Professor Lockhart’s initiative requires some modifications and refinements. Tomorrow I’ll go to the Ministry and speak with the Head of Education, and then I’ll meet with Lucius Malfoy. So, what exactly is it that you’re not happy with?”
The Headmaster pulled out a quill and a sheet of parchment, and the Deans, glancing sideways at Lockhart, began to talk. After half an hour and three sheets of parchment, the Headmaster realized he wouldn’t be able to get a good night’s sleep that night either, as his colleagues were dissatisfied with almost everything. The Deans were categorically unwilling to take on the additional workload and waste their free time on someone else’s subject. For this reason, practically the entire regulations for the new club would have to be rewritten, but Albus knew who to delegate this task to. The talented writer caught his boss’s eye and slumped sadly, realizing he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all that night, as all the changes needed to be completed by morning.
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Chapter Art (I don’t know how, but I managed to upload it)
Integra
