Chapter 27
A contented and rested Albus Dumbledore apparated a kilometer from the Hellsing Manor. Looking into the distance, he winced and removed his half-glasses. The Hogwarts Headmaster could see perfectly well without them, but the enchanted lenses not only complemented his venerable appearance but also allowed him to see hidden things and magical weaves. The grounds ahead glowed like a Christmas tree; over hundreds of years, these paranoid wizards had conjured up so much that even Merlin himself couldn’t discern, so the magical glasses were useless here and now. Albus checked all his protective amulets once again and took a step forward, shuddering involuntarily. Losing the sense of one’s own magic was like being naked before an angry mob.
On the way to his future student’s house, the headmaster was thinking. Yesterday, he hadn’t noticed the girl’s birthdate, but this morning, after carefully studying the book of names, he had some guesses. First, she was born on the same day as Potter. Yes, this could be written off as a coincidence, if not for the second – her name is Rigel, like the sister of the Chosen One. But that’s impossible; he had personally checked the child! The girl turned out to be a Squib, and Poppy confirmed it. How, in her time, did Morgana become a witch? How did the girl fall into the clutches of the platinum bitch? Dumbledore really didn’t like riddles.
He needed to talk to Severus. That night, he’d given the Potions Master clear instructions: if the relatives were refusing or negative toward the child, he was to place the girl in a good orphanage and woo the staff so they could find a respectable family for the orphan. Snape reported that Petunia had happily accepted her niece, but perhaps she’d gotten scared and handed her over to the orphanage? If this girl really was Harry’s sister, he’d be wise to take a closer look; perhaps he could turn her to the Light. But first, he needed to confirm or disprove his suspicions.
“Sergeant Cooks. Who are you? What is the purpose of your visit?” A soldier guarding the gate came out to greet Dumbledore, his companion pointing his gun at the newcomer. Albus also noticed heavy machine guns from the watchtowers taking aim at him.
“Good morning, sir.” The Headmaster nodded politely. Now, without magic and at the point of an enchanted weapon, he felt extremely uncomfortable. One awkward move and even Fawkes wouldn’t be able to save him. “My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I have an invitation for my future student. I am to deliver it personally to Rigel Hellsing. Does someone like that live here?”
“One moment.” The soldier stepped aside and reported something over the radio. “An escort will be here shortly. In the meantime, sign a magical non-disclosure and non-harm agreement.”
Arguing with soldiers was pointless, Albus knew that from the Great War: they had their orders, and they didn’t care about anything else. So, without further ado, he picked up the parchment and quickly read it, confirming that the contract had been drawn up by goblins—no loopholes had been found. Dumbledore took a bloody quill and signed it with his ornate signature.
“Kuks, who’s there?” The gate opened slightly, and a petite, blue-eyed girl with golden hair and a striking figure approached the soldiers. And, Merlin forgive me, her uniform! The whores in the brothel dress more modestly.
“Captain Seras!” The soldier stood at attention. “This is Albus Dumbledore, he brought a letter for our girl, but he won’t give it to us. He says he’ll give it to us personally!”
“I see.” The girl smiled sweetly and walked with a slack gait toward the guest who had assumed the role of a postal owl. “Follow me, I will take you to the Lady.”
Nodding, the Hogwarts headmaster followed the captain. As soon as he stepped through the gates, he shuddered again. “Thieves’ Bane, Mordred’s paranoids.”
“And please, no sudden movements. I wouldn’t want to rip the head off such a renowned wizard.” The girl turned and bared her teeth. Dumbledore, too close to him, saw hungry red eyes and a huge mouth full of inhuman fangs, and he barely suppressed the urge to reach for the elder wand—it was useless now anyway. Merlin the Almighty, how did the Hellsings manage to tame such a monster?! Albus knew perfectly well that even with magic, he stood no chance against a true vampire. By the time he finished the spell, his entrails would already be sold in Knockturn. The rest of the journey to the manor, and then to his office on the third floor, passed in complete silence.
Captain Seras knocked politely and, opening the door, gestured for the guest to enter. In a spacious, bright office, the mistress of the estate sat in a leather chair behind a large round table. A beautiful platinum blonde in a dark blue pantsuit raised her icy eyes and examined the wizard through round-framed glasses. The vampire remained standing at the entrance, leaning her back against the door.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Dumbledore. I must admit, I’m surprised; I was expecting a visit from your deputy.” Integra smiled and gestured to an empty chair. “Please sit down; tea will be served shortly.”
“Good day to you too, Lady Hellsing.” The director nodded gratefully and took the offered chair. “I didn’t expect such hospitality.”
“After all, you’re a guest, and no one disputes your accomplishments.” At that moment, the well-trained servant quickly, neatly, and silently laid out everything necessary for tea on the table. “And my friend speaks of you with the utmost respect.”
“Thank you.” Albus poured himself some tea and, taking a sip, closed his eyes contentedly—he loved good Indian tea. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to meet my future student. Traditionally, the letter is delivered in person; it wasn’t for nothing that I came all this way. At my age, walking is certainly good for me, but still…”
“Of course, I’ll call my daughter now.” The woman touched the homemade, clearly magical bracelet on her wrist. It looked very much like the work of a young artificer; the child must have talent, and Dumbledore always paid attention to small details. “June has been unusually mild this year. Is it as warm in Scotland?”
The Hellsing leader and the Hogwarts headmaster discussed the weather for about fifteen minutes, until a girl, quite tall for her age, politely knocked on the door. Combat boots, camouflage pants, a loose black T-shirt, and the pungent smell of gunpowder created a rather intriguing image. Dumbledore carefully examined the child’s face, which had very familiar, aristocratic features. He would even have thought the girl was the daughter of one of his students, if not for her eyes… He couldn’t mistake those windows to the soul; she really was Lily’s daughter and Harry’s sister! But who was her father? It seemed James wasn’t nicknamed “Prongs” for nothing. It took all his Occlumency skills for Albus to keep from showing a satisfied smile. His suspicions were confirmed; he just needed to figure out how to take advantage of this situation. Oh, how that family would be in a tizzy when that girl entered Hogwarts.
“Mom, did something happen?” The girl turned to the hostess with a smile, then nodded politely to the director. “Hello.”
“Yes, you have an important guest.” Integra smiled surprisingly warmly at her daughter.
“Hello, you may address me as Professor or Headmaster Dumbledore.” The Chief Warlock stood up and nodded politely, then, with a magician’s gesture, pulled a yellow envelope from his sleeve. “I have come to deliver your acceptance letter to Hogwarts.”
“Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The girl took the envelope, waved her hand over it, nodded to herself, and broke the seal, revealing a parchment. Commendable, the girl has protective artifacts and a healthy dose of paranoia. She quickly scanned the text and looked at her mother. “We’re not leaving today, are we? You agreed on the day after tomorrow, didn’t you?”
“Our plans have not changed.” Albus noticed the warmth with which the platinum-haired bitch looked at the girl. “Mr. Dumbledore, do you still need my daughter? Perhaps you have any questions?”
“No, of course not. I only came to deliver a letter and meet the future student.” Albus smiled into his beard. “From what I’ve seen, the girl has very high potential.”
“Rigel, you may return to your studies.” Lady Hellsing nodded to her daughter. “Professor Dumbledore and I have a few more matters to discuss.”
“Understood. Goodbye, Director.” The girl bowed her head politely and quickly left the office.
“See you on September first.” The wizard nodded contentedly and turned to her mother. “Lady Hellsing, can you satisfy an old man’s curiosity?”
– Ask, but I don’t promise anything.
“How did Lily Evans’ daughter end up with you?” Dumbledore, out of habit, smoothed his beard and looked closely at his interlocutor. And they really do look alike. “You see, I wouldn’t mistake those eyes for anything else, even though the girl looks very much like you.”
“Remember, Rigel is my daughter!” The woman looked at her interlocutor carefully. “It’s no secret. I took her from an orphanage and adopted her.”
“I understand.” Albus raised his hands placatingly and sighed sadly. “So Petunia did give the girl up to the orphanage after all, what a shame. I was so hoping her relatives would take her in and raise her in warmth and care.”
“Mr. Dumbledore, how did she end up with her relatives?” Integra clasped her hands and glared at him. “Mrs. Dursley didn’t give Rigel up to an orphanage.”
“What do you mean?” Dumbledore straightened up. “My confidant informed me that Petunia happily accepted the baby.”
“Did you notice her scars?” The wizard nodded. He’d wanted to ask that question too, but this time of the girl. If her adoptive mother had treated her cruelly, it would have been easier to win over such a promising figure. “It’s a manifestation of her relatives’ ‘love.’ Tired of the abuse, my daughter killed those scum. Any other questions?”
“I’m very sorry… I meant well…” Dumbledore had a lot to think about, especially the fate of one impudent and arrogant potion maker who dared to deceive him.
“Mr. Dumbledore, I love my daughter very much.” The old man raised his head and met the gaze of his interlocutor, who was now smiling predatorily. “If anything happens to my daughter, I will kill you and all the Heads of Hogwarts. This is not a threat – it is a warning.”
“Don’t worry, Hogwarts is the safest place in England!” Albus had learned to read people perfectly over his years in politics, and now he knew the bitch wasn’t bluffing. And given the rumors and the resources of her Order, she could storm the castle.
“Seriously? I have completely different information.” Integra’s voice was full of skepticism.
“I admit, there were problems,” the wizard nodded guiltily. “Tomorrow I’m holding a meeting of the board of trustees and will try to convince them to allocate funds for repairs to the castle. Of course, a major overhaul is out of the question, but we will restore the protective circuits and security system.”
“I hope we understand each other.” Integra fixed her interlocutor with a promising look. “Then I won’t keep you. It was nice to meet you. Victoria will walk you to the gate.”
“Likewise. Thank you for the tea and good day.” Dumbledore bowed slightly to the office’s owner and headed for the exit.
As he descended the stairs, he considered his new information. The girl was definitely worth keeping an eye on, but only with extreme caution. Her mother would probably drape her with protective artifacts like a Christmas tree and provide her with communication devices. From what he saw, the girl was strong, intelligent, and well-trained. He wasn’t about to activate all the defenses; we’d see how well the Hellsings had prepared the child. At worst, he’d have time to intervene himself.
Albus has already thought of everything regarding the castle’s defenses: his former student owns a construction company, the trustees’ funds will be channeled through it (of course, he’ll have to share with the boy, just a little), and he’ll activate the defenses himself, after which he’ll check all the defenses with the deans. The money can be spent on more important things – Pomona has been asking for an automatic watering system for the seventh greenhouse for a while, and Hooch is getting all worked up over new brooms. There’ll be enough for something, as the Muggles say? It takes skill to manage budget funds properly.
Dumbledore was pulled out of his reverie by a fragile-looking girlish hand gripping his shoulder in a death grip. Albus turned and was lost in the furious hunger of scarlet eyes.
“Rigel is my beloved sister. If she is harmed in your castle, I will hang you with your own entrails.” Albus merely nodded in response; there was no point in arguing or proving anything to the immortal, bloodthirsty, and, by all appearances, insane monster.
I’ll have to hold a meeting with the deans; if they want to live, let them instruct their students. Although… Albus had another brilliant idea: with this girl’s help, he could weed out the most powerful and radical families; all he had to do was send the platinum bitch an owl with a list of the names of those who wanted to hurt her daughter. He’d have to think it over again.
Already passing through the gates, the director glanced again at the monster that had so skillfully disguised itself as human. Should he activate all the defenses? Just in case.
***
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Director: Albus Dumbledore
“Knight of the Order of Merlin, 1st Class, Great Wizard, Supreme Sorcerer, President of the International Confederation of Magicians”
Dear Miss Hellsing!
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please review the list of required books and supplies attached to this letter. Classes begin on September 1st. If you are rejected, we expect your owl no later than July 31st.
Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.
I reread the letter again, smiled, and put it away in my nightstand. The list of subjects was, of course, disappointing—Sergey was right, the program had been significantly cut back. But right now, I was more concerned about my beautiful black dress—it was time to get ready, the guests would be arriving soon. After all, today was my birthday! The celebration promised to be modest but fun; my mother had promised some kind of surprise.
While I was getting dressed, I thought back to Dumbledore’s visit yesterday. I didn’t expect him to show up in person, although it couldn’t have been any other way.
First, my name and date of birth. Of course, he immediately suspected something was wrong and decided to check it out himself. And when he recognized me, my mother didn’t try to make a fuss; the old man already knows the faces of all the aristocracy in Wizarding Britain. All that remains is to find out who exactly I owe my “happy” childhood to. If I find out who gave me to the Dursleys, I’ll kill him. I have a hunch, of course, but I’ll try to get the old man to talk again the next time we meet, and I’m sure that will happen.
Secondly, McGonagall. That idiot got a real beating when she visited the Grangers. She first went to Finch-Fletchley, where she was met by guards and an anti-magic field. Justin’s father came out, took the letter, and sent Minerva on a sexual adventure, promising along the way that if his son was harmed, she would be flayed alive, and a large radioactive crater would be left where Hogwarts once stood.
The evil Head of Gryffindor went to see the Muggle-born Granger. At the time, Hermione was with us, Dan was at work, and Emma had just put little Hector to bed when there was a knock at the door. The tired woman let the witch in and politely began explaining to her, saying, “We know about magic, thank you for coming, and we’ll take care of the rest.” The evil Minerva placed the apprentice contract on the table and demanded it be signed. After being refused, McGonagall made a terrible mistake – the fool pulled out her wand. That immediately earned her a right to the jaw and a left to the solar plexus. Dropping her magical tool, McGonagall doubled over and was kicked in the face again. Wizards are stronger than normal people, and Emma saw that the witch wasn’t about to lose consciousness, so she grabbed the iron poker, which was peacefully standing by the fireplace, and began to beat the uncultured guest to the punch. Minerva, after a series of blows, turned into a cat and, limping, ran out of the open window, throwing her wand and hat away.
Emma immediately called Integra, saying that the bastard would definitely return for his loot, and most likely with reinforcements. Mom immediately dispatched a squad from Third Platoon, First Company, which was stationed nearby, to the Grangers, and she was right. Half an hour later, McGonagall returned with a greasy-haired, big-nosed ghoul. Honestly, I thought Snape was smarter, but this idiot stepped forward and started asserting his rights. Yeah, in front of a dozen armed soldiers who didn’t like wizards. There was no dialogue; as soon as the Potions Master reached for his wand (or so the sergeant thought), he got a rifle butt in the mouth, and then another. Emma interrupted the execution; otherwise, Snape would have been beaten to death; our soldiers can do that. Anyway, Mrs. Granger tossed McGonagall her hat and wand and told her to get lost. McCosh took the unconscious, bloody Potions Master by the hand and, without even apologizing, apparated away.
So, of the Heads of House, only Sprout could have come to us. Flitwick stands out too much in a crowd, being half-goblin after all. But his bearded majesty showed up, although I have to admit, he behaved with dignity. He was telling Mom something about fixing the security systems, we’ll check it out. I spun in front of the mirror and grinned predatorily. It’s a shame mundanes can’t merge memories, I would have loved to see Emma screw McGonagall. At that moment, the Wonderphone vibrated and showed my friend in the reflection.
– Hello, Riya!
– Hello, Mia!
– We’re almost there!
– I’m just ready! I’m coming out!
***
We were happily finishing the birthday cake at the table, though Justin kept glancing sideways at Alucard and Victoria, who, as usual, were sipping blood from crystal goblets. The old vampire boasted that it was from a farm, so fresh and young. Hermione thinks that’s what he calls a blood donor center… Well, I won’t try to convince her otherwise.
The Grangers sat in a friendly group, Emma letting Integra babysit Hector again. I hope the movies are true, and with just one stone I’ll solve my problem, and that Mom will babysit her grandson or granddaughter, my son or daughter, with the same smile and care. My hand involuntarily dropped to my lower abdomen, and through my thin dress, I ran my fingers over the ugly scar. I’ll fight tooth and nail to get the Philosopher’s Stone, and then I’ll spend a long time killing that bastard who handed me over to the Dursleys.
I was distracted from my sad thoughts by young Finch-Fletchley, who was sitting to my left. Even Sergei was there; he was just now pouring Dan a glass of strong tea. We sat there chatting cheerfully for another hour, waiting for the time for presents.
Justin, blushing, presented me with a set of silver combs and brushes, saying they were made in France, specially commissioned by his mother. They were beautiful, and the handles had space for runes; I’d enchant them for something useful at school. I hugged and kissed the red-faced boy on the cheek.
Hermione gave me, drumroll, a book! A gift edition about 19th-century fashion. Where does she find such a thing? A thick, illustrated tome, with a gorgeous corset and patterns on page 89! Okay, stop, or I’ll be stuck here until evening. She put the book down and hugged her friend.
Sergey stood up next and presented his gift. Honestly, I was surprised. When I opened the wooden box, I practically whistled! A brand-new AK-80US, still in its factory oil! A shortened 12.7mm assault rifle with a folding and adjustable stock, and the sheer number of runic patterns on it was mind-blowing. My MP-5 is certainly good, but it lacks lethality. As I happily thanked Black, having disassembled and reassembled my gift right there on the table, Justin’s right eye twitched. Yeah, right, a young aristocrat in an evening gown, with a psychopathic smile, disassembling a Kalashnikov assault rifle at the festive table, and everyone present smiled and nodded contentedly.
Alucard smiled graciously and informed me that his gift was waiting for me in my room. I’m already scared, some pink bullshit again, no need to be a fortune teller. Although, you’ve intrigued me, the old pervert.
Then Mom handed the dozing Hector to Emma and came over to me. She took a small, flat box out of her pocket and placed it in my palm.
“Rigel, my dear daughter, I congratulate you on your birthday!” Mom stroked my head and kissed my forehead. “Inside is a very valuable thing, which only a Hellsing by blood can possess.”
Inside, on a black velvet pillow, lay a small golden key, and since I’m not Pinocchio, this…
“Yes, daughter, this is the key to our family library.” Mom saw the fanatical gleam in my eyes and hugged me. “I hope you won’t move the bed there?”
– Yes, I mean no! – I hugged the woman who loved me so tightly. – Thank you! You’re the best!
“Easy, I’ll show you everything there tonight.” Mom stroked my head and took a glass of wine. “In the meantime, let’s raise our glasses to my daughter and heir!”
The cheerful get-together lasted about another hour. During this time, Sergey told everyone about the excellent fishing on Lake Baikal and invited us to spend the Christmas holidays; he has a spacious house right on the lakeshore. Hermione sat down with me, and we managed to get Justin talking. He turned out to be very intelligent, but modest and shy. It turns out he’s a two-time Imperial Junior Chess Champion! He showed great interest in runes and numerology, and I promised him textbooks on the basics. Language skills are also quite good; he speaks Russian, French, and German fluently. However, due to the abundance of activities with friends, he hasn’t had much success with physical education, either, but that’s not a problem. Justin is staying with us for three weeks, and Sergeant Banks has already prepared a KMB program for him.
Alas, the wonderful evening came to an end and the guests began to head home. Walter went to show Justin his quarters, and Hermione and I said goodbye on the porch. Dan and his son were loading into the backseat; after a couple of drinks, he wasn’t allowed behind the wheel, so Emma would drive.
– Tomorrow we’ll stop by the bookstore in Diagon Alley, I’m sure we’ll find lots of interesting things there. – I hug Hermione. – Thank you for the gift! See you tomorrow, Mia.
– See you tomorrow, Riya! – The little brat pecked me on the cheek and ran to her mother.
***
I stood before the door to the Hellsing estate’s inner sanctum. I’d found the door to the family library during my first few days here, and I’d been drooling over it ever since. I wondered if there was all sorts of nasty stuff in there? Were there any special spells or family secrets? I was practically jumping with anticipation.
“Rigel, sprinkle the key with blood.” Mom stood nearby, smiling. I obediently summoned the athame, pricked my finger, and smeared a drop onto the key, which immediately warmed and absorbed the scarlet liquid. With a trembling hand, I inserted it into the keyhole and turned it. The door swung silently open, and my jaw hit the floor.
Holy shit! The room is bigger than our gym, with dozens of ceiling-high shelves filled with antique books and tomes. And now it’s all mine! I couldn’t read it all in a lifetime!
“Welcome to the Hellsing family library!” Mom took my hand and led me to the bookshelves. We stopped in the center of the room and she gestured at all this magnificence. “Only a Hellsing by blood can…”
All the pathos and solemnity of the moment was interrupted by Alucard, who shuffled out from behind the nearest shelf, a pornographic magazine in his hands. Mom’s eye twitched.
“Maybe we should add another section?” The ancient pervert shook the glossy abomination with a sly smile. “Let’s add a section on sex education, so to speak.”
“I’ll castrate you, you bastard!” Mom drew her broadsword and rushed at the vampire, who easily dodged her blows with a cheerful laugh, then simply vanished into thin air. Integra stood there for a couple of minutes, then let out a ragged breath through her teeth and turned to me. I’d been watching the family squabble with an amused smile the whole time. “So, where were we?”
“Mom, is there a catalog here? Where should I start?” I looked around the vast repository of knowledge.
“That’s a good question.” Integra smiled and returned to the entrance, leading me behind her.
There, on a stone pedestal, lay a thick, ancient book bound in leather, and next to it on a shelf was a small, clearly handwritten book, like a notebook.
“This is the Codex of Jacob Hellsing. It was started by the founder of our family, and each subsequent generation enthusiastically added to it. It’s more of a chronicle, a history of our family.” Mom pointed to the thick tome and nodded toward the notebook. “Start with the Codex; my father wrote a few pages at the end. Then follow Milosz’s list; my great-great-grandfather compiled the recommended order of books that a true Hellsing must study.”
“I see.” I trembled, carefully running my hand over the rough leather cover and cracking it open. Knowing your family history is very important.
“Don’t stay up too late, tomorrow’s a busy day.” Mom touched my shoulder and walked away, leaving me alone with thousands of books. I carefully picked up a thick, ancient tome and moved to a comfortable-looking sofa by the window. “I’ll read a little and then go to bed.”
***
We pulled up to the Leaky Cauldron in a convoy. The first to pull up was our Rolls-Royce, in which I was nodding off, having stayed in the library until well into the night. I can’t say for sure—I fell asleep on the couch and woke up in my own bed. Oh, those childhood teleportations. My mother and Victoria were in the car with me, and Walter was driving. The second car was an army jeep, carrying Laurie, James, and two other soldiers. The Grangers’ Range Rover pulled up next, and Lord Finch-Fletchley’s armored UAZ, a Hummer-type vehicle, brought up the rear, carrying his son and two guards.
The whole friendly crowd of us gathered in front of a nondescript pub with a slanted sign. I looked at Victoria and was touched; in her black robe, she looked like an innocent nun, even with her eyes cast down. Everyone else was also dressed appropriately for the occasion, only Mom in her usual dark blue pantsuit and red tie. I adjusted my dress and dark green robe; it’s a comfortable thing, after all; you could hide an elephant under that robe. I only had a bulletproof vest and Vasya, who had brazenly asked to come with me, but the other soldiers had a whole arsenal and nothing was sticking out anywhere; everything looked quite respectable. From the outside, we looked like a group of aristocrats guarded by mercenaries.
Laurie and James were the first to enter the pub, and we followed. The room reminded me of old Westerns, for a deathly silence descended upon us as we entered. Yes, the local aristocrats are squeamish about coming here, even though it looks like a decent and fairly clean tavern, that’s for sure. Everything was done in an antique style, even the fireplace and lamps, though most likely it had simply been well-maintained since opening—not difficult with magic. The guests didn’t look like homeless people either, though there was a certain untidiness about them. I was able to discern this as I made my way through the hall to the back entrance. There, to prevent a crush, Sergeant Ward had already opened the door, and we quickly entered the magical territory.
What can I say, the movies weren’t lying – it really is magical here! Literally every pebble of the street is imbued with magic. There are a ton of strange people all around, owls circle overhead, bright signs beckon people into crooked and lopsided shops, but there’s no feeling that the buildings are about to collapse. The three of us (me, Justin, and Hermione) were exploring the magical quarter with interest. The guards took us into a box, and under the curious gazes of everyone around us, we headed to the end of the street – we needed to exchange money for magic candy wrappers.
I looked at the gilded building ahead and grimaced. This monumental structure cut the street in half, with the bright Diagon Alley on the right and some dark slums on the left. The transition was so abrupt, the bank building only emphasized it. What kind of junkie built this abomination? Towering above the authentic and perfectly organic stone and wood houses was this… Fuck, this was some kind of Gypsy Baroque! Greek columns, stained glass windows like in Catholic churches, a huge glass dome instead of a roof, and cyclopean golden gates. It was immediately obvious that this wasn’t built by humans, but by stupid and greedy animals—they call it “expensive-boho.”
At the sight of our group, the goblins in gilded armor at the entrance tensed and, making the most disdainful faces, finally opened the gates to Gringotts for us. The main guard remained outside; only Walter, Victoria, and three future Hogwarts students with their parents entered the bank. In the spacious hall, about a dozen wizards stood in lines at tall counters, behind which sat short men. The toothy creatures looked down on the wizards with contempt and malice, and given the height of their counters, they looked down on them.
We stood in line. I looked around the room—disgusting, I can’t find another word for it. Hermione looked around too, grimacing. Behind one counter, a goblin was theatrically examining a painted glass crystal—diamonds that big just couldn’t exist—while his neighbor was weighing coins. Why? To show off his importance to these stupid humans! And my empathy was going crazy; these creatures radiated such hatred, malice, and hunger that the pistol involuntarily found its way into my hand, fortunately for me, the sleeves of my robe were wide.
Ten minutes later it was our turn and Mom stepped forward.
– Anything you want, my dear? – The goblin behind the counter grimaced contemptuously.
“I need to exchange pounds for galleons.” Mom placed the parchment with the Royal Coat of Arms on the counter, and Walter began to lay out wads of money.
“The lady apparently doesn’t know,” the toothy creature grinned maliciously, “that there is a limit on exchange – 250 Galleons per year per family.”
“The stupid animal apparently can’t read.” Mom pulled out a cigarillo and struck a lighter, and silence fell over the room. “This restriction doesn’t apply to the royal family and the aristocracy of the British Empire. Although what else can you expect from your pathetic and worthless race?”
The woman blew smoke straight into the goblin’s face, who raged, clawing at the wooden counter and clenching his jaws until they creaked. His colleagues glared at us with equal hatred.
“Look at me like that again and I’ll have your vile eyes gouged out.” Mom blew smoke into the bank employee’s face again and pointed at the stack of money. “Send 5,000 Galleons each to the Hogwarts account for Rigel Hellsing and Hermione Granger’s tuition, 2,000 Galleons in cash. Now! Useless creature!”
The goblin lowered his head and, gritting his teeth, began rapidly counting the pounds. All this time, Integra calmly smoked, flicking the ashes right onto the floor, then tossing her cigarette butt there too. Hermione’s parents looked on with bewilderment and disapproval, while Lord Finch-Fletchley, on the contrary, nodded contentedly. Victoria, judging by her sweet smile, seemed ready to snap at any moment and set up a mobile slaughterhouse here. A dozen guards emerged from the door at the end of the hall and glared at us until they saw the vampire’s hungry grin—beyond that, the cowardly little ones trembled in terror, shielding themselves behind their shields.
As soon as the toothy one finished counting, he barked something in Gobbledegook, and another short man ran up to him with a cart, into which they quickly piled the cash with their four hands. Then the clerk pulled out two leather pouches and placed them on the counter.
“Your 2,000 Galleons, my dear.” The goblin practically spat out the last sentence.
“Walter, please count them,” Mom turned to the butler. “These vile creatures cannot be trusted.”
“Certainly, my lady.” Walter smiled politely. One bag flew up from the counter and hung in front of him, and the butler untied it and waved his hand over it. The second bag passed the same test. “Surprisingly, everything is correct. Have these wild creatures really learned to count?”
“I’m surprised myself.” Integra glanced disdainfully at the short man behind the counter and stepped aside.
Justin’s father came up next, his guard also began laying out stacks of cash, and the man himself placed a similarly embossed parchment on the counter.
“5,000 Galleons to the Hogwarts account for Justin Finch-Fletchley’s tuition, and 1,000 Galleons in hand. Now! You filthy beast!” The lord pointed at the pounds. This time, the shorty didn’t bother showing off and quickly exchanged the money.
We left the bank under the most vicious and hateful glances from the goblins. Right at the gates, Lord Finch-Fletchley spat unaristocratically on the floor. The other wizards looked on in disbelief at this Shakespearean drama. I hope my next visit to this establishment will be for the purpose of genociding these vile creatures.
***
“Integra, aren’t you being too much?” After Hector was born, Mom and Emma switched to informal terms. We were about twenty meters from the bank when the elder Granger couldn’t take it anymore. “Why did you have to provoke those creatures like that?”
“Emma, what do you know about goblins?” Lady Hellsing lit a cigarette again and looked closely at the Granger couple, who were looking at her with incomprehension and condemnation.
“Goblins are an alien race that somehow ended up in our world many centuries ago. They’re incredibly bloodthirsty and cruel, but they’re also excellent craftsmen.” Hermione decided to answer for her mother and glanced sideways at Gringotts. “They’re also apparently good builders, but they lost all their rebellions and were driven underground.”
– Almost right! – Justin’s father caught up with us and grinned evilly. – Lady Hellsing, would you like to add more?
“Of course. Emma, have you seen any females among these creatures?” The Grangers shook their heads, and I became curious. I hadn’t really looked into goblins; there were uprisings, and that was fine. “That’s because there aren’t any! All goblins are born male. The green creatures have been kidnapping human girls and using them as incubators since ancient times, constantly raping them.”
“And when the incubator breaks, they eat the poor thing,” Walter added a bit of revelation. “For these creatures, human flesh is the most delicious delicacy. Especially if it’s still alive and resisting.”
“Even now?” Hermione stared at the adults in shock. “Could there be… down there in the dungeons?”
“Of course. How do you think they maintain their population?” Mom looked at the shocked Grangers and put her hand on my shoulder, the way she always does when I’m feeling angry. “True, the last rebellion greatly limited their habitat, so the goblins have strict birth control. And they’re forbidden from kidnapping people.”
– Then where did… come from? – Emma asked a general question.
“They found a loophole—now they don’t kidnap girls, they buy them.” A grimace of disgust appeared on the butler’s imperturbable face. “The wizards themselves supply them with live goods, and sometimes they even give up their own daughters to pay off debts. I’ve seen such cases.”
“Genocide.” That’s all I could manage to say through clenched teeth. “These creatures must be destroyed.”
“Of course, daughter, when the time comes.” Mom squeezed my shoulder tighter. “That’s what the Russians did in 1950: they flooded all those creatures’ dungeons with modified VX. Since then, shorties have been outlawed in the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, like werewolves in the British Empire.”
“Do we have this pest control product?” I could already imagine our soldiers in chemical protection suits checking the caves of these vile creatures, littered with corpses, and I smiled contentedly.
“Of course. When the modified VX proved its effectiveness, we immediately purchased 100,000 liters of it from the HUYA Research Institute.” Lady Hellsing glanced promisingly at the bank building behind her. “The stasis tanks are stored at Porton Down, awaiting their time.”
– Where, where did you order it?
“The Research Institute of Fertilizer and Poison Chemistry.” Mom looked at me. “By the way, they have an advanced alchemical lab and potion brewery. Are you that interested in alchemy?”
– Just asking. – Damn… Are all abbreviations like this in this world?
“Let’s not dwell on sad things, we still can’t change anything,” Lord Finch-Fletchley said, drawing attention to himself. “I suggest we start with leather goods, so the children have somewhere to put their purchases!”
And we moved in a friendly crowd towards the little shop, on the sign of which a pretty witch was holding a cute handbag in one hand, and stroking a huge suitcase on legs with the other.
