Chapter 24
A week after the New Year, my friend and I, accompanied by Victoria, were walking to our first Potions lesson. We circled the barracks and headed toward the now-familiar buildings where our masters lived. Hermione was full of anticipation, and I confess I was curious too.
– Victoria, what about our teacher… What is he like? – I decided to find out a little about the person who will be teaching us.
“He’s completely nuts,” the vampire looked at us cheerfully. “He’s a scientist to the core, a fan of potions and alchemy. He dreams of outdoing Flamel himself. Although it must be said, he’s managed to improve a couple of potions and is now almost finished with one combat-ready development. And he also considers himself a descendant of the great potion maker.”
– And in reality? – Question from a friend.
“An orphan, his parents were commoners. His alcoholic father was stabbed to death in a drunken brawl, and his mother, frightened by the first magical surge, gave the child up to an orphanage. He wasn’t even five years old at the time.” Victoria paused thoughtfully. “He went a little crazy at Hogwarts and decided that since his last name was Dagworth, he was a descendant of that very same Dagworth-Granger. He even changed his name.”
– What do you mean, changed your name? – Hermione tensed up, lest he see his sister in her.
“He was named Marcus at birth, but after school he changed his name to Hector. Now he’s Hector Dagworth.” The vampire chuckled. “He even wrote official letters demanding to be put in charge of the Potion Masters’ Society, and naturally, he was sent packing.”
– How did he end up with us? – It’s still interesting how a scientist got involved with a military organization.
“Oh, nothing interesting. Back in 1980,” my sister waved her hand dismissively, “the morning after the full moon, our soldiers surrounded yet another werewolf settlement and were preparing to storm it, when they found this idiot in the bushes. He was obsessed with creating a cure for lycanthropy, so he was kidnapping wolf cubs for experiments. After that forest adventure, Hector was quickly taken into custody and recruited; competent potion makers were always in short supply.”
“He kidnapped werewolf children?” Hermione stared at Victoria in shock.
“Not children, but puppies of deadly, infectious creatures that must be destroyed!” The vampire smirked. “These animals are most vulnerable the morning after they’re transformed, but even then, dealing with an adult isn’t easy. So Hector grabbed the smaller ones and Apparated them to his lair.”
So, while we were chatting, we approached the laboratory and, by compatibility, our teacher’s quarters. The “holy of holies” was located next to the potion-making base, but while theirs was a three-story stone building, somewhat reminiscent of a turn-of-the-century apartment building, here… At first, I thought it was a brick shed or garage, but no, it turned out to be a personal laboratory! What had he done to everyone to make them move him?
“Hello, young ladies! Captain Seras.” We were greeted by a short, dark-haired man of about thirty. His hair, however, was sticking out in all directions, an unkempt mess, and judging by the smell, he’d washed last summer, when he’d forded the stream. His face, covered in tiny burn scars, was complemented by a sparse goatee, half singed, and his brown eyes sparkled with madness and passion. He was dressed in a patched and scorched robe, once a ceremonial one, and a very expensive one at that.
“Good morning, teacher.” We politely curtsied. No matter what he looks like, he’s a teacher. My friend and I respect smart people, no matter how fucked up they are.
“You’re just in time!” The man glanced at his wristwatch and gestured for us to come inside. “I’m almost finished dissecting Sample 67. I’ve got the necessary materials and a study table ready, come on. I’ll show you all the beauty of potion-making!”
This is where I freaked out. I’m familiar with magic and have seen a lot, but fucking hell, this is just fucking insane. His “shed” inside was about two hundred square meters and looked like Frankenstein’s lab from a movie I once watched in a past life. The walls were lined with shelves filled with all sorts of junk, some of which even squeaked or moved. In the center were a dozen stone tables with cauldrons, burners, scales, and other alchemical equipment. Scalpels, hacksaws, saws, and other torture instruments were hung and laid out in abundance on each table and on magnetic holders along the walls. Above each table hung a magical lamp and some kind of exhaust hood, I guess. I don’t know what else to call a corrugated pipe that sucks in air. The oil painting was completed by two steel cages in the far corner of the laboratory: one empty, and in the other, huddled in the corner and hugging her knees, sat a naked, blonde girl with an empty gaze.
I shifted my gaze to the left and seemed to have found the occupant of the first cage. On the steel dissecting table next to him lay a man chained to his chest, his belly ripped open. Judging by his twitching and the way his mouth opened in a silent scream, he was probably still alive. Maybe I should just forget about him? I can order almost anything from the guys in the next building; if I have to, I’ll call Sergey. My friend and I were simply stunned, silently examining the furnishings of this vivisectionist’s lair.
“Please, make yourself comfortable.” The Potion Master gestured toward a wooden table near the entrance, on which lay several books and scrolls. “I’ll finish extracting the werewolf liver now, and then we’ll begin the lecture! A very valuable and useful ingredient, by the way!”
“Uhhh…” Hermione examined her prey closely and said goodbye to her lunch. I looked from the gutted wretch to my vomiting friend, and for some reason I really wanted shawarma.
“Are you completely out of your mind?” Victoria lifted the man by the throat with one hand and pointed toward the cages with the other. “But the mistress ordered you to remove them! It’s too early for the girls to see such things!”
“Really? When did she ever say that?” The man looked genuinely surprised, his legs swinging in the air. “What’s wrong with that? Students should know where potion ingredients come from!”
“You have an hour! When the children come back, I want those creatures out of here!” The vampire growled at the mad scientist and turned to us with a sweet smile. “Girls, go for an hour, and I’ll explain to Mr. Dagworth why he’s wrong.”
I grabbed my friend, who was still spewing bile, by the elbow and quickly ran outside. We clearly needed to pull ourselves together. The first lesson had started a little off-kilter.
Hermione recovered within an hour, though she had to take a sedative and wash it down with vanilla ice cream. We headed back, ready for anything—who knows what this madman might decide to get this time.
Upon his return, the desk containing the loser was missing and had likely been moved to another room—no one had thought to remove the trail of blood from the door in the opposite corner of the room. The second cage had simply been covered with a thick blue cloth, so to speak, carefully hidden. The Potions Master himself had been transformed; it seemed he’d cleaned himself magically, combed his hair, and traded the rag that had once been his robe for a white coat. We sat silently at the table near the entrance, my friend eyeing the professor warily.
“Um… First, I’d like to apologize for that sight.” He rubbed his neck, adorned with dark blue finger marks. “My name is Hector Dagworth, and I’ll be teaching you the basics of potion-making. We’ll start with the theory; until I’m confident in your knowledge, you don’t even have to go near the cauldrons. I think we should start…”
“Who are these people?” Hermione interrupted the teacher rudely.
– What? Where? – The teacher stared at his friend in confusion.
“There, on the table and in the cage.” She pointed her finger towards the captive hidden under the tarpaulin.
– Oh, that’s what you mean! – The man nodded understandingly. – Don’t pay any attention, they’re just werewolves. Subject 67 is pretty worn out, so I decided to use it for ingredients, especially since the day before yesterday I received a fresh and almost intact specimen – Subject 68! A real stroke of luck these days. These blockheads shoot first and think later. How many times have I asked… Ahem, we’ve gotten sidetracked. Any more questions?
Surprisingly, Hermione remained silent. Perhaps Victoria’s stories about werewolves had something to do with it. Or perhaps they’d finally managed to eradicate the love for her fellow man from her… Apparently, she’d been given reports of werewolf attacks on peaceful villages to read, even with photos. All in all, it was a terrifying sight.
“Now that we’ve run out of stupid questions, let’s get to work. Get your quills and parchment ready.” The teacher cleared his throat and continued enthusiastically. “Potion-making is the science that studies the transformation of substances into each other through magical interactions between ingredients. It originated approximately 5,000 years ago and currently encompasses potion-making and alchemy, but closely interacts with magizoology, transfiguration, herbology, chemistry, biology, and astronomy. Now, in order…”
Surprisingly, Hector turned out to be an excellent teacher; his enthusiasm was contagious by the end of the lecture. We even forgot about cells. It was truly fascinating to hear stories about ancient alchemists and the origins of such a complex science. When I watched movies, I thought potions were more like cooking. Like, you throw all sorts of crap into a cauldron, and out comes a magical elixir. Well, I was sorely mistaken: the quality and the result itself are influenced by everything, from the thickness of the cauldron’s walls and material to the potion maker’s control of magic. Some potions can only be brewed during certain phases of the moon, and so on. Basically, it’s all complicated, completely incomprehensible, but very interesting. At the end of the lesson, he handed us several thick reference books and told us to prepare an essay on the types of cauldrons and the materials they are made from for the next lesson.
***
Sergey also surprised us. In his class, we learned two spells at once. The first was Stupefy, familiar to me from the movies, and the second was Finite. The emphasis was specifically on the reversal spell, a universal counter-curse, so to speak. Black said that before we went to Hogwarts, we were required to perform Finite and its various variations strictly nonverbally and wandlessly! He said we had over a year to do it, and he’d developed an excellent motivational program. He was a goddamn help.
During all subsequent classes and training sessions, James and Laurie continued to cast mock spells at us, only now they didn’t remove the effects immediately, but just before dinner! Through experience, Hermione and I discovered that removing a curse from each other requires more energy than the wizard who cast it. When I removed my friend’s penis from her face, I used up almost my entire reserve, and Laurie merely smirked, her cute little nose turning back into a reproductive organ. Hermione had to breathe through one nostril until dinner, and it also hits her chin when it dangles, which is a personal experience…
However, casting Finite on oneself requires significantly less energy. As James explained, the wizard’s aura itself fights the curse, and we merely help the body rid itself of the foreign influence. Furthermore, the older and more powerful the wizard, the more difficult it is to curse them—their aura becomes very strong and robust, simply preventing weak magic from altering the body. Therefore, against monsters like Dumbledore or He-Who-Sucks, one must immediately resort to Unforgivables or something as destructive as possible. But for now, my friend and I don’t stand a chance even against a Hogwarts graduate, so firearms are the priority.
So, the shooting at the range was more intense, we were given plenty of ammo, and Victoria was happy with our success. Hermione was also given an MP5, only a plain black one. That brat would smirk at my pink wonder at every lesson. At the armory, they gave us special shrouds for the foregrip and grip, which had a special wand mount on the side; the army guys had thought of everything. I was already glad that I would at least be able to hide the bastard color under the shroud… Yeah, as they say, I guessed wrong. As soon as I attached the thing to the submachine gun, it immediately changed to pink camouflage! What? How the hell does it do that?! The artificers didn’t understand either and, just in case, asked me not to bring them anything like that again. Cowards.
With all this busyness, the rest of winter and spring flew by. Perhaps it’s worth noting how, at the end of April, Hermione gave four older boys, all graduating that year, a good beating. The brats managed to insult her parents, but Hermione went overboard. In all sparring, we work in what’s called full contact, we always wear protective gear, and a wizard’s body is much stronger than usual, so she, out of habit, hit them at full force. In the end, all four of them were taken to the hospital by ambulance with various fractures and bruises.
Only Lady Hellsing’s intervention prevented a scandal from escalating. Whatever anyone says, the British Empire is a monarchy, and therefore the ruling aristocracy is endowed with virtually unlimited power. As the saying goes, what’s lawful for Jupiter isn’t lawful for a bull. The parents of the young idiots quickly realized that butting heads with the Baroness was extremely dangerous, and knowing the Iron Lady’s “good” reputation… In short, they chalked it all up to an accident. Some might say my friend and I are turning into spoiled brats, but I’d argue: along with certain rights, we also have a mountain of responsibilities. Besides, they started it; we’ve never bullied anyone for no reason, and we have nothing better to do.
After this “minor” incident, the school hummed quietly until the final exams, which, thanks to Occlumency, we passed with flying colors. Training also became routine; we even stopped paying attention to the nasty things James and Laurie threw at us—we’d simply gotten used to it. And we didn’t initially react to the verbal taunts and laughter; it was immediately obvious it was all for show—the soldiers’ looks were too serious.
In terms of offensive spells, Hermione and I have expanded our arsenal a bit: in addition to Stupefy, we’ve started to master Expeliarmus, Petrificus Totalus, and basically everything else… It’s not much, but Sergei has stopped teaching us new ones for now, ordering us to perfect the ones we have. He also started teaching us spell combinations, where the final gesture of one spell seamlessly transitions into the beginning of the next. It’s very difficult, as our “combinations” so far consisted of a maximum of two elements.
Potions remained our escape. In his lessons, Hector bombarded us with theory, forcing us to memorize various ingredient compatibility charts, types of cauldrons, what could be extracted from whom, how to store it, and how to use it. Visual examples added to the spectacle, as the teacher mixed incompatible ingredients in a cauldron, and we all marveled at the explosion or melting cauldron. To Hermione’s chagrin, there was always some animal nearby, so to speak, to demonstrate the consequences. Hermione didn’t even vomit when a monkey tied to the table had its head blown off by a shard of copper cauldron during the explosion. After such an example, the scene from the movie about the porcupine quills stopped being funny.
I was also a little uneasy by the Potions Master’s glances at Hermione during every class. I would have even suspected something was wrong, if not for my empathy: there was no negativity or sexual undertone; a cocktail of anticipation, vanity, hope, and fear was seething within the man. It was all strange.
By the end of June, he couldn’t take it anymore and at the end of the lesson he turned to his friend:
“Miss Granger, I have a very profitable proposition for you.” He came right up to our table and literally towered over the girl. “As soon as you graduate from Hogwarts, we will get married!”
– W-w-what?! – My friend started stuttering with indignation. – W-w-why the hell?!
“Don’t you understand?” The man stared at us in surprise. “After our wedding, I will be Hector Dagworth-Granger! And I will legally lead the Highly Extraordinary Society of Potion Masters, once founded by our ancestor!”
– I see, but what does Hermione gain from this? – I decided to stand up for my friend.
“What do you mean, ‘what?’ She’ll be the wife of Dagworth-Granger himself! Isn’t that enough?” The psychopathic scientist smiled contentedly. “I’m even willing to grant her full access to the community library. Agree, I’ve even prepared a prenuptial agreement; it’s egalitarian, by the way!”
“N-no! It’s too early for me to think about that!” Hermione blushed under the pressure and began to back away towards the exit.
“Mr. Dagworth, let’s come back to this conversation in a few years. Children aren’t made such offers in polite society.” Looking at my panicked friend, I suddenly felt very amused. I don’t sense any threat or ill intent from this psycho. He truly believes what he’s saying.
“Hmm… Yes, perhaps you’re right. And besides, I don’t have anything to brag about yet, so I could disgrace my ancestor’s name.” He thought for a couple of minutes, while Hermione’s back was already pressed against the door separating her from her desired freedom. “Let’s talk about this after fifth year? By then, I’ll just have made some discovery that will revolutionize magical science!”
“We understand, we’ll come back to this issue in a few years.” Holding back my laughter, I grabbed my friend by the elbow, and we went outside. “Come on, bride, dinner’s getting cold.”
“Stop laughing!” Hermione muttered, flushed and puffed up like an offended hamster. I couldn’t help but burst out laughing, earning a sound slap on the backside, and her hand was heavy. “We’ll see who they’ll be marrying you off to. That idiot was just going for my last name, but you, my dear, have a title and a huge inheritance.”
I looked at that viper, and I immediately stopped laughing. Damn… As far as I know, aristocrats rarely marry for love, mostly for convenience or at the behest of the Crown, and Walter mentioned that Her Majesty is quite the matchmaker. I need to talk to Mom; I’m not even sure I could let a man get close to me. Hermione nodded understandingly and put her hand on my shoulder, and I did the same. Embracing each other like that, we slowly wandered in silence toward the estate. We had a lot to think about. With his stupid proposal, Hector reminded us that childhood will end sooner or later, and adulthood will begin…
Mom kept her word, and today, July 20th, we’re all boarding a private jet for a flight to Nice, where we’ll be relaxing by the sea for two whole weeks! I don’t remember the model of the aircraft that transported us to the continent, but it was small, but powerful and very comfortable: the interior was trimmed in beige leather and wood, the usual chairs were replaced by comfortable sofas with equally comfortable tables, and built-in TVs and headphone jacks were included. Overall, it was beautiful and comfortable. In my previous life, I’d flown to Moscow a couple of times for work, but flying economy class on a charter plane was nothing compared to traveling on this flying limousine.
Walter took the co-pilot’s seat. I wonder if this old man can’t do anything? Hermione’s parents chose a back seat and began cooing, hugging each other sweetly. Victoria dropped onto the sofa next to her mother, silently opened a bottle of champagne, and began pouring. My friend and I also settled in comfortably and peered curiously out the window. Alucard declined to fly, citing a fear of heights and finding it easier to get there through the shadows.
After two hours of a pleasant flight and cheerful conversation, we landed at the airport with the pleasant name of “Côte d’Azur.” We began to leave the cabin to transfer to two black Rolls-Royces waiting for us on the runway, but a welcoming delegation approached us in three white jeeps. As soon as Mom saw them, she immediately tensed, and a pistol appeared in her hand. Victoria abruptly grabbed Hermione and me by the scruff of the neck and pulled us behind her, grinning predatorily. Only the butler remained unfazed, only the translucent threads on his fingertips shimmering in the light. Dan, not fully understanding the situation, stepped forward and stood next to the vampire, completely shielding us from the incomprehensible threat. I heard the clank of guns as the drivers of our cars drew their machine guns and, kneeling, pointed their weapons at the stopped jeeps. F*ck, who came to visit us?!
When I peered out from behind Victoria and took a closer look at the people greeting me, I understood the reason for their expressions: the jeeps had Catholic crosses emblazoned on their hoods, and the coat of arms of the Holy Inquisition on their sides. Clearly, a rival firm had arrived. From what I’d gathered from Alucard’s stories, Hellsing and the Vatican, to put it mildly, don’t get along. These fanatics, even before the Statute was adopted, had carried out a bloody massacre on the islands, for which they’d received a sound beating from the Order and fled Britain through the backwoods ahead of their own screams. Those few that survived.
A hulking fellow, nearly 2.5 meters tall and wider than himself, emerged from the flagship jeep. He was dressed in a white cassock and a gray cloak, and sported a huge “don’t come near me or I’ll kill you” Catholic cross on his chest. He had a short, buzzed gray hair, green eyes shaded by round, silver-rimmed glasses, and an ugly scar on his right cheek. A brutal face of rare ugliness, in a word.
While I was looking at the head of the delegation, a dozen more of the same “holy fathers” in white cassocks emerged from the jeeps, and judging by their bloodthirsty faces and hidden hands, an entire arsenal was hidden under their wide robes.
The big guy grinned cheerfully and moved towards us.
“Alexander Anderson, what an unpleasant meeting.” Mom took a step forward.
“Integra Fairbrook Hellsing, I am very saddened by the fact that you are not dead yet.” The Inquisitor nodded in response.
– To what do I owe the sight of your ugly face?
“As always, polite and well-mannered, just like your father. Too bad I didn’t kill him.” Anderson chuckled. “We were informed of your arrival on the continent, so I’m on an official visit from the Holy See.”
“And what did that old pedophile want with me?” The woman bared her teeth in response. “I have a daughter, and as far as I know, your dad likes little boys. So I can’t help you.”
“You’re being cheeky! I’ll remember that. Anyway, I, Alexander Anderson, Chief Inquisitor of the Thirteenth Department of the Holy Inquisition, ‘Iscariot,'” he looked closely at Victoria, “officially warn you, Integra: if your little beasts decide to hunt on the continent, it will be taken as a direct declaration of war! Also, don’t you dare preach your false faith here! There is only one representative of the Creator on earth: the Bishop of Rome, the Vicar of the Creator, the Successor of the Prince of the Apostles, the Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church, the Pontiff Maximus, the Primate of Italy, the Archbishop and Metropolitan of the Roman Province, the Sovereign of the Vatican City State, the servant of the servants of God, the Pope!”
“Is that all? Is this why you came all the way from Rome?” Integra sighed with a hint of disappointment. “I also hasten to remind you that our family’s villa is the property of the British Empire, and if even one fanatic penetrates the security perimeter, they will be perceived as a direct threat to the Empire’s territorial integrity and killed on the spot.”
“We heard each other.” The man smiled at Integra. “I’d also like to meet your daughter; I need to know the future head of your blasphemous organization. I swear by the Creator that I will not harm her! Bye…”
I stepped forward and stood to the left of my mother, who placed her hand on my shoulder. I was fucking scared, I could feel the mortal threat from this monster in my gut. The only thing that calmed me down was that, through empathy, I sensed interest and intense rage from the shadows under the plane’s wing. Alucard was here, watching us closely. I wasn’t sure about himself and the Grangers, but he’d protect Integra, no matter what.
– Hello, Holy Father. – I politely curtsied. – Rigel Hellsing.
“Greetings, child of false faith.” Anderson looked at the woman cheerfully. “Well, at least you taught your wedded offspring some manners. Though what else would you expect from your depraved family? A child born out of wedlock has only one path to hell.”
After his words, Mom’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the pistol. Judging by the serious look in his eyes, this jerk was deliberately provoking her. Well, I need to defuse the situation; I can be annoying, too.
– Mr. Anderson, do you know what a reverse exorcism is? – I asked the inquisitor sweetly.
“Enlighten me, you vicious child.” The man smirks contemptuously.
“A reverse exorcism is when the devil asks the Holy Pope to come out of a boy.” And we blink innocently.
For a minute there was a deathly silence, broken only by the crunch of knuckles from the inquisitor’s clenched fists and the clang of the guns in the hands of his support group.
– HA-HA-HA. – Victoria burst into laughter. – Even children know… Ha-Ha… That Papa… Ha-Ha… Loves boys…
Anderson took a few deep breaths through clenched teeth, grinned cheerfully, looked me over with a searching gaze, and nodded politely.
“You’re just like your Saracen mother, I respect you.” He turned to his mother. “I’ve brought you an official message from the Holy See, Lady Hellsing. I hope to see you at your funeral.”
“I’ll outlive you,” Integra nodded in response.
“Your blasphemous ancestors said the same thing. Where are they now?” Without waiting for an answer, the inquisitor turned his back on us and headed toward his colleagues, who had already hid their weapons and were looking at us like the righteous looking at heretics awaiting the cleansing fire.
When the white jeeps disappeared from view, my mother spat unaristocratically, muttered some curses, and turned to me:
“Daughter, remember, if you encounter this creature and Alucard or Victoria aren’t around, activate the emergency portkey immediately! Do you understand me?!”
– Is this man that dangerous? – I felt threatened, but that much?
“He ceased to be human long ago,” a soft, insinuating voice said from the side. “Over the past three centuries, he’s performed so many rituals, sacrificing heretics and strengthening his body, that he’s become a higher lich and only appears human.”
– Why didn’t you intervene? – The woman hissed at Alucard.
“If I had shown up, I would have had to kill them all. I didn’t want to ruin their vacation.” The vampire smirked. “Besides, this maniac is useful. His very name forces European wizards to strictly adhere to the Statute. And Iscariot serves as a reminder to you and the Russian Holy Church not to relax.”
That was the end of the conversation, and we finally loaded into two Rolls-Royces. Hello, relaxation. Hooray!
***
What can I say, it was worth it! The villa is gorgeous! The couple of hectares of land are enclosed by a high white stone fence, the same material used to build the main two-story building. Tall arched windows, columns, white marble floors. Basically, everything is decorated in white or light tones. But that’s all nonsense; the main thing is the sea!
I’ve never been to the sea before, but this is absolutely breathtaking! It’s moments like these that make me so grateful for my childish perspective; an adult would never appreciate the beauty of the azure surface, the vast horizon, the clear blue sky, and the warm, transparent water that tickles your ankles. It’s truly wonderful! One of the best days of my life.
Having admired the sea’s beauty, I ran back to the house to at least unpack. Incidentally, the villa itself was immersed in greenery: palm trees and various fruit trees grew there, and a low green hedge ran along the yellow stone paths. Basically, everything was just like in the pictures of the expensive five-star hotels I once dreamed of visiting. And finally, my dream had come true! True, it took two lifetimes, but it was finally done!
Aside from the warm welcome, the vacation was fantastic! A warm sea, a refreshing sea breeze, and hot sand underfoot—what more could you want? Since the beach was private and there were no strangers, I allowed myself to relax and enjoy myself with childlike abandon. Hermione and I splashed around in the warm water, sunbathed on lounge chairs, and sipped cool juice. In the evenings, I read the fiction books my friend had brought along in large quantities.
True, on the second day, Hermione and I nearly choked on our juice when Alucard came out onto the beach. Imagine a tall, dark-haired athlete on the beach, right? Only this pervert showed up wearing a wide-brimmed red hat, yellow sunglasses, and the boxers I gave him for Christmas! But to top off the surreal experience, Mama and Victoria followed him out in revealing bikinis of the same pattern, large white polka dots on a crimson background. He really found him, the bastard! He looked like a real water polo team. After clearing my throat, I laughed for another ten minutes.
Damn, Integra is a very beautiful woman! I hope that after the ritual I’ll inherit that aristocratic beauty with an oriental flair. Dan even got a couple of slaps from his wife when he couldn’t help but stare at Victoria or Mom. Emma is also quite beautiful, but compared to the vampire and the baroness… Well, everything is relative.
Time flies when you’re having fun, and finally my tenth birthday arrived! An anniversary, after all. We decided to hold the celebration right on the beach; there was a comfortable bungalow nearby, so there was plenty of room for everyone. It was a family affair: the men, represented by Alucard, Dan, and Walter, grilled meat and sausages, the women cut salads and fruit, and periodically served cold drinks to our kebab makers. My friend and I swam in the sea; my mother had taught me this pleasant activity over the past week. And when we got a little tired, we’d pop under the roof for a snack and listen to funny stories.
At sunset, we all gathered around the round table, and my mother, holding a glass, proposed a toast in my honor. It was a pleasant toast, though. I happened to be sitting between her and Victoria, Hermione sat between her parents and cooed sweetly to her mother, while Dan listened attentively to Walter. Judging by the butler’s gestures, he was saying something about killing his neighbor. Alucard alone, with aristocratic arrogance, savored the donor’s blood from a crystal goblet.
The most exciting part of the party has arrived – the presents. Hermione gave me a deluxe edition of The Divine Comedy. Judging by her smirk, it was a retaliation for the Hammer. Mom gave me earrings to match the hair clip, also platinum with emeralds. These lovely pieces also offer powerful protection against mind reading, thank you. But the gift from the other three was a surprise; I was expecting another pink scam, but instead…
In a pink box with a pink ribbon, on a fucking pink cushion, lay a jet-black ritual athame. Its short, double-edged blade looked like it was made of black glass, while the intertwined snake’s body formed the hilt with a small guard, while a snake’s head crowned the pommel. This beauty fit perfectly in my hand. The blade seemed to absorb the light—there was no glare at all. Overcome by an inexplicable impulse, I gripped the blade with the palm of my other hand and ran my hand down its length, and at that very moment, I felt the very hungry athame gratefully accept my blood. For a second, everything went dark before my eyes, and when I came to, I realized I was sitting on a chair, and everyone else, except the ancient vampire, was looking at me with alarm. My head was spinning, but I frantically tried to look around—where was the dagger?!
Alucard handed me a vial of blood-forming potion. I drank the potion, my head began to clear, and a minute later I realized the athame was a part of me! Not like the bracelet, it was inside me, damn… How vulgar it sounds, especially when you think about where prisoners hide their forbidden goods… Anyway, an effort of will—and the athame appeared in my hand; a wish—and it vanished into thin air. Special effects included.
“Thank you,” I said to the trio led by the ancient vampire.
“He will help you become stronger,” Alucard nodded in response. “Later, you will understand for yourself what he is capable of.”
The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant conversation and fun. This was perhaps the best birthday of my two lives, spent surrounded by my family and loved ones. Alyoshka, thank you for not letting me die then! I sincerely believe that you are waiting for me. Someday we will meet again.
The rest of the vacation flew by quickly and happily; we weren’t even bothered by the white jeep parked conspicuously near the villa. I swam to my heart’s content and got a little tan, learned to swim, and even built a sandcastle, which Alucard made indestructible and said would be a memento of our vacation. Still, sometimes that monster turns into a kindly uncle.
But all good things come to an end. Today we’re loading into cars to head to the airport, escorted by inquisitors, and from there, home to the islands. I wonder if our last year before Hogwarts will be peaceful?
Author’s note: More chapters are available on AuthorToday and FicBook, where the fanfic is also free. Unfortunately, the Litnet platform prohibits inserting any links, but my work can be found in searches without any problems.
