Chapter 19
The day began as usual. Integra gently woke me at six in the morning, and after our morning toilet breaks, we headed outside—exercise was still on the agenda. They were already waiting for us: children in blue tracksuits, yawning, stood before a cheerful and contented Sergey. A man in camouflage pants and black combat boots showed off his powerful muscles to everyone; if it weren’t for the numerous scars covering his torso, he’d be ready to send him to the Mr. Olympia competition.
A cobbled path wound around the lake, along which we ran for half an hour, and then it was time for a warm-up, calisthenics, and other exercises. My foster mother and I worked separately, while Cherny’s great-grandchildren had their own program. When the exercises were finished, the children got ready to go inside, and Sergei told us not to disperse and quickly ran into the house with a smile of anticipation.
He returned a couple of minutes later with two sabers, tossed one to Integra, and got into a fighting stance. Honestly, I’d often watched Eastern action movies in my past life, but you have to see something like that in person! My heart skipped a beat and my breath caught every time the blade of the sword passed literally a millimeter from a woman’s throat, or when the man dodged at the very last moment, even though by all the laws of physics the blade should have pierced his heart! And when Sergei deftly blocked the blow and slammed his foot into my mother’s chest, sending her flying a good five meters, I wanted to strangle him! But! Integra cleverly twisted mid-flight and landed on her feet, spat out blood, grinned contentedly, and got back into a fighting stance! Fucking lunatics! I want that too. The duel lasted for about a quarter of an hour, and the final minutes moved at such a speed that I practically saw blurry lines instead of blades. The fight ended abruptly—Lady Hellsing froze with her opponent’s blade at her throat.
– Well done! You’re making progress! – Black grinned contentedly.
“You too, but age is taking its toll, you’re getting older, Sergei,” the woman said kindly, and we all noticed her saber, its tip resting against the man’s family jewels.
Black looked down, swallowed nervously, and burst into laughter. That was the end of the show.
***
Breakfast and saying goodbye to Sergei’s family were a distant memory for me, as I thought about calling Integra “Mom.” Had I really started to get attached to this woman? During the fight, I was genuinely worried about her. We lived under the same roof for less than a year, but it felt like several years. Care, upbringing, and all the other joys of family life are unfamiliar to me; I simply don’t know how to react to it! The beginning of my life was spent in an orphanage, where the caregivers frankly didn’t care about us; we didn’t die, so that was it. Then Alyoshka came along—kind, strong, and loving. With him, I cherished the hope of finally finding a family, but it, too, died along with the man she loved in those cursed mountains.
Zinaida Karpovna later told me that her heart had been racing since the morning; she was literally dying to talk to me. My father-in-law had kicked down the door to my dorm room, and they’d dragged me out of the closet where I’d hanged myself with a belt attached to a coat rack hook. Five more minutes and I’d be with the man I loved, but life has other plans. Lyoshka’s parents weren’t my real family, but they were definitely close. Then came school and service in the police, and I never let another man get close to me, even though I tried, but after the rape and the death of my fiancé… Those two attempts don’t count. A month before my death THERE, after talking with Aunt Zina, I applied for IVF. She even promised to find a donor similar to her son, but it didn’t work out. Maybe it’s for the best.
In this life, I remember my mother and father in fragments, pitiful scraps of memory, each lasting about twenty minutes. They evoke nothing in my soul except longing and a desire for revenge. He-who-will-die-long-and-painfully took this family from me, and after that, my life turned into hell—the Dursleys did their best, but I’ve already gotten my revenge on them. I barely survived, but those creatures are dead!
And now, it seems, I have a family: Uncle Alik, as I privately call this ancient pervert, my sister Vika, a weapons-obsessed maniac, and, of course, Integra. I understand in my head that she adopted me for a reason and has some plans, keeping them under wraps for the time being. But I sense genuine care and concern for me from her, and that’s truly endearing. I believe that sooner or later she’ll tell me everything; she’s not that kind of person, too straightforward for stealth. Yes, she can be cruel and domineering at times, but that’s how a baroness, the head of a powerful military organization, should be, in my opinion! I increasingly notice that in some ways I try to emulate her, I truly do! And it’s scary. In both my lives, I’ve been burned and lost hope so many times that I’m simply afraid of having a family. More precisely, I’m afraid of losing her.
It hurts so much, and I swore no one would hurt me again! So I need to become stronger. I have the resources and all the opportunities to make my enemies fight for their lives just by hearing my name. There’s no other way. A good enemy is a dead one, as my father-in-law taught me, because only dead people don’t shoot in the back. I’m not Dumbledore, no second chances! Only then can I protect the people I love and preserve my happiness. Integra pulled me away from my sad thoughts and introspection, placing her hand on my shoulder. It turned out we’d already arrived.
***
The abbreviation “GUM,” mysterious to European ears, concealed a towering glass and concrete building, constructed in a modern style, meaning no stucco or other embellishments. We entered the shopping center through large glass doors and headed straight to the elevator. That’s where we discovered the Moscow Magic Quarter: while ordinary people thought the building had ten floors, magicians saw a hidden button in the elevator with the number eleven.
After exiting the elevator, we found ourselves in a typical shopping mall—no flying owls, people in strange clothes, or any other magical bacchanalia like in the movies. The stores were ordinary, with animated signs and interesting names. For example, there was “Boots of Seven Seasons,” and across the street was “The Alchemist’s Dream.” Sergei first took us to Chitai-Gorod, a huge bookstore where Lady Hellsing bought two sets of Soviet textbooks, while I dug into the artifact section and picked up several books on needlework and magical embroidery. After flipping through a book and realizing I was looking at a fig, I went to the runology section, where I grabbed a few dictionaries on ancient runes and a couple more on dead languages. I want to understand the squiggle I’m embroidering on my scarf or socks, and what mistakes might lead to.
After examining the books in my hands, Black chuckled contentedly and led us to a DIY store. From there, I was literally dragged out by the scruff of my neck: enchanted knitting needles, magical needles and crochet hooks, skeins of thread made from the wool of magical animals. Knowing I wouldn’t be returning anytime soon, I bought as much of everything as I could. At the checkout, I had to buy an additional packet of expansion charms. Incidentally, no galleons or other coins were accepted; the stores accepted regular paper rubles. When I asked, Sergey explained that each banknote was imprinted with protection against copying and enticing charms. It looked like an ordinary shiny strip on a banknote; of course, it wouldn’t last long, but paper money doesn’t last forever; it wears out over time.
Next up was the “Stapler” store, whose sign depicted a red, toothy stationery man chewing on a miserable notebook. Here, my friend and I were given fountain pens and regular quills, a couple of liters of ink, and notebooks made of thick paper, which turned out to be parchment. To my skeptical gaze, the man explained:
“Girl, don’t make idiots out of wizards! Ink contains a drop, but it’s still magic, so regular paper quickly deteriorates. That’s why we write on parchment. Drafts and lectures are written with a regular pen on plain paper to save money, and tests, quizzes, and the like are written on parchment. These types of work preserve your magical imprint and allow you to quickly check the text with spells. And they can be stored for a very long time; for example, my workbooks are still like new, even though they’re over a hundred years old.
After these explanations, I grabbed more ink and quills; I needed to learn to write with these instruments. At the same store, I picked up a dozen enchanted notebooks, or rather, diaries. They were hardbound and, despite their thinness, contained a couple of thousand pages each. Very handy for lectures and other notes.
As I was leaving the stationery store, my eye was caught by a sign reading “Tsatski-Petski,” which turned out to be a store selling artifacts and jewelry. Intrigued, I approached the glass display case and froze, jaw dropped. There in the display case was, goddamn it, an iPhone! A polished mirror in a rectangular metal frame with beveled edges, beneath a large advertising poster reading, “Chudophone-85! Two for the price of two!”
Inside the store, a smiling young saleswoman immediately approached us:
– Good afternoon! I see you’re interested in our new product?
– Yes, and what can this Miracle Phone of yours do? – I decided to start a dialogue; judging by the looks on the adults’ faces, they weren’t interested in this thing at all.
“Oh, this is a unique artifact! Our craftsmen combined Proteus charms and see-through mirrors in it!” The girl saw the confusion in my eyes and began to explain in detail. “You can call from one Wonderphone to another like a regular phone, you can transmit images like in see-through mirrors, and you can even send short text messages! There’s a special stylus included for this purpose, we called it the ‘Stylo.’ You write your text on the screen and say the recipient’s name. In a second, your note will appear on their screen, and their Wonderphone itself will begin to vibrate.
– Can I call regular phones from it?
“Unfortunately, no. It’s a magical artifact, and you can only call devices like it. However!” The girl raised her index finger. “Our craftsmen somehow managed to bypass the device limitation, so you can call anyone with one if you know their number! There’s something like a phone directory there.”
Hmm… That’s a bummer, and I was really hoping for a camera, internet, and all the other perks of a smartphone. It’s a cool thing, though, because once I get to Hogwarts, I’ll need to somehow maintain contact with the base. I can’t send letters by owl, can I? As far as I understand, any owl would simply die if they found themselves in protected territory—they’re magical creatures, after all, and the field suppresses any magic. Vasya, however, is still alive and well, and he swears he’s no longer a simple snake. I’ll have to ask Integra more about that. And anyway! They already have internet in this world, I’ll demand a computer! I don’t know what the hell I need it for yet, but I have to.
In the end, I convinced my mother to buy four of these Miraclephones: one for me, one for Integra, one for Hermione, and one for Victoria. They’re truly useful and convenient. They weren’t cheap, at 499 rubles and 99 kopecks each, which at the current exchange rate works out to about 420 pounds, which is a good monthly salary for the average Brit.
Our final shopping destination was a store with the odd name “Wands on Wednesdays.” Why on Wednesdays, specifically, I never understood. While Sergey was buying practice wands for Hermione and me, a gray-haired, mustachioed man approached my mother (I’ll call her that in my head), introducing himself as Boris. He beckoned me over, and I began trying on wands, which were chosen solely for comfort—no flickering or sparks, a universal beginner wand that would suit anyone. Since Granger and I are almost the same height, I did the shopping for both of us, settling on ebony wands 17.5 centimeters long. When we finished, Sergey and I turned around and witnessed an interesting performance.
– You don’t understand! Wands are unreliable! A staff! Only a staff! Even if you run out of magic, you won’t be defenseless! Consider the weight.
– Heavy…
“Heavy is good, young lady! Heavy is reliable! Even if the magic doesn’t work, you can always give the enemy a good whack on the head with it!”
The salesman, Boris, almost sold Integra a fighting staff; he wouldn’t accept any excuses. If Sergey hadn’t intervened, we would have definitely left with a two-meter-long ironwood pole.
That was the end of our shopping. Clothing stores and magical jewelry weren’t our thing, and I’d decided against going to Detsky Mir myself – I had no need for toys.
And so, an hour later, we were saying goodbye to Sergei in the portal room. He announced he’d be arriving on Sunday and reminded us to take Hermione to a healer so he could prescribe a course of potions for the girl. So she wouldn’t overexert herself from the unfamiliarity.
***
The four days until Sunday flew by quickly.
The morning after our return, Dan Granger brought my friend to practice with us. By lunchtime, she was nearly crying from exhaustion, the complete lack of physical activity taking its toll. After lunch, Smethwick arrived and examined the exhausted girl, who had completely forgotten her fatigue and her eyes sparkled at the sight of real magic. Overall, her condition was good, but the healer forbade any drastic exercise for Hermione, as she was physically underdeveloped. Hippocrates prescribed a complex of vitamins and strengthening potions, and at my request, he also straightened her front teeth; my friend stared at the mirror for half an hour afterwards.
And then everything fell into place, only now I wasn’t studying alone. Hermione was right there, completing her tasks with the tenacity of a rhinoceros. A very determined girl.
On Sunday, the teacher arrived at the end of breakfast. We went to a makeshift classroom, a converted office on the third floor. Two desks with comfortable chairs were set up for us, and Sergey sat at a massive oak table in a comfortable brown leather chair.
– Good morning, teacher! – We greeted the guest in chorus.
“There’s no such thing as a good morning,” Black replied, and began pulling books, several notebooks, and finally, our wands out of his shoulder bag! Yes, he’d kept all the teaching materials, saying it was to protect himself from children’s curiosity.
As soon as everything we needed was on the table, he levitated a stack of books and a wand for us with a gesture.
“So, let’s start with the basics. Right now, on your desks, you have textbooks for first-year Soviet schools and a couple of books for first-year Hogwarts students, from when I was there. Pay attention to the books on Occlumency; you need to study them first! Complete all the exercises meticulously!”
– What is Occlumency? – My friend asked.
“The science of protecting against mind reading, as well as structuring and improving memory,” the teacher replied.
– Can wizards read minds? – I don’t really want to go to that school anymore, in case someone finds out my secrets.
“If you keep thinking so loudly and neglect your studies, everyone will know your secrets!” Black grinned and looked at us carefully. “A master of mental magic can read your ‘loud’ superficial thoughts, what you’re thinking right now. This requires eye contact, so the first rule is to avoid eye contact with an adult mage, in case they turn out to be a mentalist. Second, if during a conversation with another wizard you start remembering something unrelated to the topic of conversation, you’re being soft-read. Leave immediately or cast a simple Protego; this will break the connection.”
“So, any powerful wizard can read our thoughts and memories?” Hermione shuddered a little and even cringed.
“Almost, but no competent Legilimens would ever delve into a child’s mind. A superficial reading, at most, would be more like reflexes. A child’s mind is unstable and even dangerous. Remember, your brain isn’t a book or a library; you can’t just break into someone else’s head and find the information you need!” Sergei leaned forward. “For a deep scan and search for the desired memories, you need a wand and a special spell. The search works on the principle of associative chains: the mentalist, once inside the victim’s mind, sends the desired thought image and then reviews the memories that emerge. It’s very difficult and requires real talent and perseverance.”
– Will you teach us how to defend ourselves from such mentalists? – I already asked, such prospects frighten me.
“No, of course not! Do you really think you’ll become a master Occlumens in a few years? Those sciences require talent and decades of training. Monsters like Dumbledore won’t even notice your defenses.” Black leaned back in his chair. “However, Albus isn’t an idiot and certainly wouldn’t mess with a child’s mind. There are only two master mentalists at Hogwarts right now: the Headmaster, who has a hundred years of experience under his belt, and the Potions Master, a former terrorist, an expert in the Dark Arts, and an overall talented kid. Rumor has it, though, that as a person he’s a piece of crap. So be careful with the Potions Master.”
– Then why do we need to learn this Occlumency? – Question from Granger.
“One more stupid question and you’ll get a slap on the wrist! First!” Sergei began counting off his fingers. “Improved memory and accelerated thinking. Second! Protection from superficial reading. Third! A basic mental shield will warn you of any intrusion into your mind. Fourth! A good mental block will give you a few seconds to activate an emergency portkey and escape. And fifth, and most importantly! A well-trained and structured mind can resist other mental spells, such as Confundus, Obliviate, and even Imperius. We’ll cover those in a couple of years. Is that clear?”
We both nodded in response and looked down. Either there wasn’t any such crap in the movies, or it was later. I’ve already regretted a hundred times that I didn’t watch that crap to the end. In any case, such knowledge is useful and vital.
“Next, among the books you’ll find a handwritten notebook in which I’ve written down from memory all the unspoken rules and customs of pureblood families.” The man slammed his palm on the table, getting our attention. “Memorize that too! Remember, you’re the ones who came to the magical world, and it has its own laws and traditions. No one invited you there, and no one fucking wants you there. So, to avoid looking like stupid mudbloods, please act accordingly.”
– But… But this is savagery! I am a citizen of the British Empire! Why should I have to adhere to mossy and barbaric traditions? – Slap! My friend shut up and rubbed the back of her head in offense.
“And if you and your parents go to Lebanon or Iran, countries that live under Sharia law, will you and your mother be wandering the streets in bikinis?” He looked closely at Hermione.
– N-no, it’s a d-different country and they have their own laws… – Granger froze for a second. – Got it! The wizarding world is like a different country, so they live by their own laws and rules!
“Got it, good boy, take a pie from the shelf. Now pick up your wands and we’ll do a little magic.” The teacher held up a concentrator. “Repeat after me. Lumos!”
A white light appeared at the tip of his wand, as bright as a regular light bulb. We raised our wands and… Nothing happened.
“Remember, magic is desire! You must believe in the result; without faith, nothing will happen! Remember that warmth in your chest and channel it into the wand. Words are activating phrases; they only help you focus and achieve the desired result! Once again!”
I concentrated, remembered the diagram the healer had shown, mentally directed this energy into the wand and said:
“Lumos!” A tiny flame lit up the tip of my wand. I turned to look at my friend, who was staring at her firefly, mesmerized. So, this is our first spell! However, I’m not going to give up on my telekinesis training; I’ll tell my friend about it.
“And now, the counter-spell. Nox!” The teacher’s light went out. “Now it’s your turn. The principle is the same: you must desire and believe in the result.”
We repeated his action, extinguishing our lights.
– Now repeat this spell until you get tired.
– What about other spells? How many will we learn today? – Hermione being Hermione.
“That’s all for the next month! The first spell worked, now you need to study the theory. You need to understand what magic is and how it works. So, you’ll practice Lumos until you can do it perfectly, and best of all, nonverbally, that is, without a verbal formula. This is also necessary for understanding certain principles. Today, Integra and I will adjust your schedule slightly so that at least an hour a day is allocated to practicing magic.” He looked at us sternly. “If I find out—and I will find out—that either of you has started practicing spells we’ve already practiced, I’ll whip you both! Like sheep!”
– Why both at once?! – His logic is strange.
“You’re friends, right?” We nodded in unison. “That’s exactly why. You must share all the hardships and tribulations. Get used to being responsible not only for yourself, but for others as well. What are we sitting around waiting for? Let’s get going and sing!”
– Lumos! Knox! Lumos! Knox!
About an hour later, when my tongue was barely moving, I was exhausted and ravenously hungry, the teacher concluded our practice. Just then, a maid entered the room with a full tray of food.
Once we’d eaten our fill and improved our mood, Sergey began the lecture. He talked about the core, magical channels, and so on, about the different types of magic—combat, everyday, defensive, and so on. Essentially, it was just an introduction.
Half an hour before lunch, he gave us homework, a list of books and specific chapters to read. Then he dictated essay topics, saying it would help us remember the material better. Tests had to be written with fountain pens and on parchment, otherwise he wouldn’t accept them! There were several copybooks in the stacks of textbooks; he’d thought of everything, the bastard. And then he sent us to our rooms to change for dinner. Yes, my friend was assigned a guest room, much smaller than mine, of course, but she wasn’t supposed to live there; she’d only change and take a bath.
***
In a spacious office, Lady Hellsing and master fighter Sergei Cherny sat in comfortable chairs, discussing an important matter.
“I gave the girls a good scare and gave them the books they needed. They’ll take up Occlumency like a charm, especially your daughter. She really needs it!”
“Is it that bad?” I knew, of course, that she had PTSD after what she’d been through, but Rigel behaved quite normally.
– Adequate? Her head is completely fucked! Two orphans met, used to keeping everything to themselves! When she was visiting us… Anyway, I accidentally overheard her thoughts; as a master, I have a reflex for that.
– And what’s there? – Integra leaned forward.
“Do you know that she dreams of drowning the British wizarding world in blood? Killing ALL purebloods? She’s a very smart girl and understands that sooner or later she’ll inherit the organization. So, my dear princess, practice Occlumency with her every evening and help her sort the cockroaches in her head into separate perches!” The man pointed a finger at his interlocutor. “She trusts you! And talk to her, you can’t live on revenge alone.”
– She has the right! – The woman glared at the man. – Did you read her file!? Did you see WHAT they did to her!? It was Dumbledore who gave her over to those creatures! And the dark lord killed her mother right before her eyes!
– I’m not arguing! They deserved to put the Dark fanatics to the knife. – Sergei raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. – What does this have to do with the others? Was Albus supposed to keep her for himself?! Who is he to her? His ass is already bursting with responsibilities! That fucking bitch and that fat bastard were the girl’s only relatives! Mind you, they didn’t throw her in the trash or put her in an orphanage, they gave her to relatives who took her in. And then the wizards simply forgot about the little Squib, that’s normal.
– And what do you suggest?
“As far as I understand, she developed a split personality due to PTSD. Don’t ask, I don’t understand it myself!” The man shook his head. “A couple of times I heard a child’s thoughts and saw a child’s inquisitive gaze. And a couple of times, when she thought no one was paying attention to her, I saw a crazed maniac in the body of a sweet girl, whose gaze and smile made even me feel uneasy. Help her somehow unite both personalities, let her hide her madness deep in the chambers of her mind. You succeeded with Victoria!”
“It was easier there.” The woman shook her head sadly. “It’s easier to reconcile a bloodthirsty monster and an adult personality than, as you say, a maniac and a small child. Victoria still acts up sometimes, viewing strangers only as food. And I won’t even mention the fact that enemies are being collected piece by piece after a battle.” Integra massaged her temples. “What if we invite a shrink? Let him erase the second personality, leaving only the little girl? Or is it too late? Well, yes, more than a year has passed, the personalities have intertwined and it’s not clear which is dominant now. I started working with Victoria right after she turned, and Alucard was also helping.”
“Rigel can’t be sent to Hogwarts in her current state. She’ll kill some pureblood asshole who insulted her friend or you on the train!” Black pulled out a cigarette case and they lit up. “And given her intelligence and wit, she’ll make it look like an accident. She won’t stop there and will continue killing until she’s caught. Wizards are crazy, but they’re not idiots. So study with her every evening, I’ll help. We need to create a schedule that leaves the girl with no time or energy for extraneous thoughts; it’ll be easier for everyone. I’ll keep her mind occupied with magic, giving her as much theory as possible and a ton of assignments. Let Victoria train her like an Olympic champion, and you talk to her every evening and help her structure her brain!”
“The plan works; it should be done in a couple of years.” The woman smiled. “Of course, she won’t become completely normal; her dark side will still show through from time to time. But a bloodthirsty killer with reasonable self-control is better than a psychopathic maniac.”
“You already had one idiot on your islands, but it’s all clear with him, he needed power and subjects to rule.” The man stubbed out his cigarette. “And your daughter doesn’t need power, she just wants to kill everyone. If nothing happens in a couple of years, I’ll wash my hands of it. And I advise you to kill her, so she won’t suffer. She could grow up to be a real monster, compared to whom Grindelwald and your Voldemort will be like little children.”
“I can do it! And if you say that again, you’ll come home in pieces! Understand me?!” The office owner held a pistol in her hands, pointing it at her interlocutor.
“What, have you really gotten attached? And this is the Iron Lady of all England?” Black wasn’t the least bit scared and grinned contentedly. “There’s your motivation. We have a plan, we’ll get to work.”
The next moment, the man suddenly appeared behind the woman and with a deft movement twisted her arm so that the barrel of the pistol was pointing at her chin.
“If you point a gun at me again, I’ll give you a spanking!” Sergei let go of Integra. “I owe my life to your father! I swore on his grave to look after you, and you?”
“Sorry.” There wasn’t a drop of regret in the woman’s voice as she calmly holstered her pistol. “Let’s make a lesson plan. You’ll have to go home soon.”
“I’ll definitely spank you someday.” The man sighed heavily. “So, what do we have on Monday?”
***
From that day on, my friend and I began the most brutal marathon of study, physical training, and spell practice. Oh, and Occlumency exercises every night before bed. Integra helped me with these exercises. It turned out she had an innate talent for this science, and for someone so weak, she developed it remarkably well. But mind reading was a problem. My tiny reserves made it impossible. Of course, I didn’t know about the “insidious plot,” but later, years later, I was very grateful to these people for preventing me from descending into madness.
And so began my personal “Groundhog Day” that lasted almost two years..
