Chapter 28
I bought myself a wonderful black leather bag with silver clasps at the “Chests for All Occasions” store. The salesperson assured me it had almost five cubic feet of interior space, and four additional compartments. The first one has a stasis compartment for food or ingredients, the second one is for especially fragile items, the third one is a secret compartment with extra protection, and the last one is just for girls. Hermione chose the same bag, only with bronze clasps, and Justin bought himself a brown briefcase, which, he says, looks more sophisticated.
All our “rticules” were designed for blood binding, to keep the contents out of the hands of greedy paws. Of course, Imperio and Confundus remain, but it’s still better than nothing. Generally speaking, blood magic is conditionally banned in Wizarding Britain, meaning it’s used at St. Mungo’s, which is understandable—everyone gets sick, including officials. Other masters—artifact makers and potion makers—are required to obtain an expensive license from the Ministry of Magic, which has an entire department dedicated solely to this. The list of magic restricted from free use is simply enormous. Hence the price of the bags—200 Galleons each! And that’s with the average Ministry employee’s salary being 100-130 Galleons per month; standard bags, without the bells and whistles, cost 15-20 gold. The cashier told us all this.
When the talkative shopkeeper realized we were flush with cash, he started selling us his coffins—pardon the expression—chests. There were even some interesting examples, like a chest on spider legs that followed its owner. Or a chest-apartment: you descend a ladder and find yourself in a well-appointed three-room apartment, or, look, there’s a portable potion brewery/greenhouse. Overall, the selection is truly vast; with gold, you can buy a lot of interesting things, and if you don’t have what you need right here and now, the craftsmen are always ready to make it to order. Justin declined the wooden monstrosity, but I simply don’t need it—today, no, tomorrow I’ll better examine Alucard’s gift. It looks much more presentable than the local examples, even if the color is traditionally ugly.
After paying at the checkout and immediately linking our purchases to ourselves, we headed to a nearby pharmacy. In fact, the smell was terrible even outside, so James was sent inside. He quickly returned with three paper bags and cast a disgruntled glance at Lori, who had suggested the idea and was now smiling slyly. Next on the list were a pewter cauldron #2, a set of potion vials, scales, and a telescope. Luckily, “Magic Equipment for Smarties” was also nearby, and the “Boilers” store was across the street.
In general, all the shops on Diagon Alley are conveniently and compactly located, so we soon found ourselves in a writing instrument shop, and it was the only store that disappointed me: there was literally nothing to choose from, and steel or silver nibs were completely absent. So we quickly stocked up on parchment and ink and were about to leave when I suddenly spotted peacock feathers and, under my friend’s puzzled gaze, added a few to my shopping list. I’ll wait and see how one blond, arrogant boy reacted. We decided to order the rest of our stationery through Sergey; the selection in Moscow is much larger and more varied.
Next on the list were robes and school uniforms, so we headed to Madame Malkin’s. Security remained outside, and only the three of us and our parents entered the studio. The tired and sweaty shop owner assessed our escort and the expensive outfits through the window and then came out to personally greet paying customers.
“Welcome to Robes for All Occasions!” a dark-haired and rather attractive woman in her fifties greeted us. “Getting the kids ready for Hogwarts?”
“Yes, my dear, we need three sets of school uniforms made of the finest fabric,” Lord Finch-Fletchley replied. “Don’t forget the robes and so on, four of each for each child.”
“As you wish.” The woman smiled contentedly. “We can further enchant the clothes so your children feel only comfort and safety.”
“No, thank you.” Mom nodded politely to the owner of the establishment. “We have our own artifact makers.”
“Good.” The woman’s eyes dimmed slightly, and she gestured toward two empty wooden benches. “My assistants will quickly take your measurements, and I’ll adjust everything to size. By the way, I haven’t seen you before… Have you arrived from the continent?”
“You’re almost right,” Justin’s father answered evasively.
“I understand.” Madame Malkin was a little embarrassed and, turning towards the utility room, barked: “Emma, Janine! Where have you been?! Come here quickly, you useless slugs!”
Two women in their thirties, like downtrodden little mice in simple black robes, rushed out of the utility room at the mistress’s shouts. On their way to the benches, they each received a stinging blow from the mistress, but didn’t even react, simply standing at their workstations. Apparently, this woman has trained her slaves well; I respect that. So what? I’m supposed to feel sorry for them? Yeah!
Mom explained the Hogwarts apprenticeship contract to Hermione and me in great detail. Tuition at Hogwarts isn’t free, costing 1,000 Galleons a year for the first five years, and 2,500 for the sixth and seventh years, respectively. If you can’t afford it, the Ministry of Magic pays for your education, but you’re then obligated to work for the Ministry, plus interest. Considering your salary, you’ll be toiling away there until you’re old. That’s why young families often homeschool their children and then have them take the OWLs at the Ministry—one exam costs only 200 Galleons, while you need at least eight, but it’s still an order of magnitude cheaper than school. Muggle-borns and half-bloods are required to attend Hogwarts; their parents sign the contract, and if they don’t want to, a Confundus from a school representative qualifies their children as slaves. There’s nothing to say about Muggle-born orphans; they additionally receive a loan from the board of trustees in the form of a “scholarship,” and in addition to tuition fees, they are also required to work for the money for uniforms and school supplies.
Why am I talking about slaves? Because every year there’s an auction where any member of the “Sacred 28” can buy a contract from a promising fifth-year student. Then, it’s up to the owner whether the student continues their education or goes to work. The type of work and salary are determined by the buyer, but no less than 100 Galleons per month—this was established back when the Statute was adopted. Fines, however, have not been abolished. Basically, after their fifth year, Muggle-borns and half-bloods sign magical slave contracts and, essentially, become the property of the most ancient and noble. According to Sergei, several new families emerged under his rule. Not all pure-bloods are bastards; some did offer vassalage to slaves and even paid for their Master’s training… But such families are rare. Mostly, Muggle-borns are exploited to the fullest, and then the spent material is sold to the goblins. Pretty girls have especially bad luck.
However, there is a way out of this mess! Every Muggle-born receives a letter from the Imperial Ministry of Defence after their fourth year, and for the last couple of years, each is visited by representatives of the Admiralty. If a Hogwarts student accepts or later presents themselves at the recruitment office, their contract will be purchased by the Crown, for 5,000 gold pieces, according to the Statute. The terms are simple and straightforward: 15 years of service to the British Empire, with good pay! 2,000 pounds per month for privates, 3,500 for sergeants, and from 5,000 pounds for officers. And this is with full government support! The soldiers even get underwear and socks!
Yes, you’ll have to risk your life, but it’s for the good of the Empire! It’s definitely better than serving masters who don’t even consider you human. James and Laurie happily signed the contract, for example. As far as I understand, the boy was forced to watch his girlfriend being bullied, and they both still dream of revenge against the wizards. Next year, the couple is heading to the Imperial Command Academy for officer training. There, they’ll have their own apartment and the opportunity to have children.
And despite all the perks offered by the Crown, about half of Muggle-bloods choose to remain in the wizarding world. Being second-class trash among wizards is better for them than living among worthless Muggles, so I don’t feel sorry for these people at all – they made their own choice.
All these thoughts flashed through my head as I approached the fitting room. Justin gallantly ushered the girls ahead. Near the bench stood a hanger, on which I hung my robe and rune-reinforced flak jacket. Standing on the “pedestal,” I stared at Hermione in bewilderment. On her hanger were the robe, the MP5, a vest with extra magazines and a couple of fragmentation grenades, and, finally, the flak jacket itself. Oh, and the bayonet remained in its sheath on my shin.
“What?” Hermione answered Justin and I’s surprised looks. “Dad said we were going into enemy territory, so I came prepared.”
“Mia, my dear friend.” I pulled a grenade out of my vest. Judging by the runes, it should be as fucking awesome as a tank shell. “Where did you get these toys?”
“Victoria gave it to me.” “She’s the epitome of innocence, damn it, and I’ll still have a word with my sister.” “I asked her for something heavier, and she brought an RPG and a bunch of grenades. The RPG is too big, and we only fired it a couple of times.”
“Okay, just try to use them,” I shook the grenade and carefully returned it to its place, “in the most extreme cases and as far away from me as possible.”
“Psychos.” The Finch-Fletchley heir muttered under his breath and turned to us. “I hope you’re not planning on taking explosives to school?”
– What do you mean? – My friend and I asked the question at the same time and, turning to each other, smiled knowingly.
“I think the box will be enough, I’ll ask the armory tomorrow.” I shared my thoughts with Granger.
“Don’t forget the plastic explosives, the mechanical fuses, the detonators, and the fuse.” The curly-haired mini-demolitionist nods contentedly in response.
– They’re definitely crazy… – Justin made the famous hand-face gesture.
The process of taking measurements took literally a few minutes, and while the tailor’s tape measure was flying around the guy, I took a quick look around the store. There was plenty to choose from: dresses, corsets, lingerie, pajamas, and more. I picked up a thick catalog from the table and, after leafing through it, put it in my bag—they offer owl delivery, so maybe I’ll find something else.
In the end, in addition to school uniforms and robes, we bought several pairs of dragon skin gloves. Mom also ordered sets of unicorn hair underwear. The hair of this horned horse is extremely beneficial for health, but it’s rare and expensive. Therefore, such items are made to order only, but Madam Malkin promised to have them ready in a week.
Having easily stowed all our new clothes in our bags, we emerged from the studio and encountered a rather colorful family: a short, rather plump Indian-looking man wearing a turban and an expensive dark blue silk robe, next to him a tall, oriental beauty and two pretty twin girls. The entire female family sported expensive, fitted dark blue robes and were draped in gold from head to toe. Hairpins, earrings, a multitude of rings on their fingers—but it all looked somehow gypsy-esque, as if they wanted to show off their family wealth. Upon seeing us, the man suddenly turned pale and stopped, and his wife, presumably his mother, glanced at her mother and somehow smoothly hid behind her husband. Considering she was a head taller than him, it looked quite comical.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Patil. I didn’t expect to meet you in London,” Lady Integra greeted with a predatory smile.
“Hello, Amar Patil,” Justin’s father nodded contentedly at the Indian family. “I don’t think you were summoned to the capital.”
– Lady Integra, Lord Finch-Fletchley! How glad I am to see you! Shiva is my witness! – The Hindu bowed his head low, and an expression of servility and reverence appeared on his face. And panic in his eyes. – Allow me to introduce you to my beautiful wife, Lakshmi, and my clever daughters, Padma and Parvati. Can you imagine, my daughters received an invitation from Hogwarts! Here we are, doing some school shopping.
“Why Hogwarts and not Krishna’s school?” Mom tilted her head. “Five years ago, you were appointed Minister of Magic for the Indian Colony; it would have been easier for you to keep an eye on your daughters on the continent. Besides, to receive a letter, you need to live in the mother country for several years.”
“You’re right. But Hogwarts provides a comprehensive, full-fledged education, and as a father, I strive to give my children only the best! Brahma is my witness!” Patil broke into a false smile. “Can you imagine, my wife Lakshmi, for her unearthly beauty, was given a modest house in Belgravia (the most expensive and prestigious area of London) four years ago for her unearthly beauty. Since then, she and her children have lived in London. I miss them terribly and pray to Shiva for their health every day when I finish praying for the health of Her Majesty!”
“By the way, Amar, how’s the investigation going?” Justin’s father frowned at the plump Indian. “The theft of ten kilograms of gold straight from the Ministry of Magic—blatant negligence!”
“The investigation is already complete. I had to alert everyone! The Auror, the DMP, and even the priests from the Vishnu temple. We’ve figured everything out, and tomorrow I’ll send a detailed report to the Imperial Treasury and the Governor-General.” Minister Patil and his wife nodded in agreement.
“And who’s to blame? Have you prepared the gallows yet?” Mom looked closely at the man. “There’s only one punishment for stealing Crown property: death.”
“I’m afraid they won’t be needed. After conducting a complex investigation and a series of operational measures, we discovered that a swarm of Nifflers has infiltrated the Ministry’s safe.” The man looked at his mother and the lord with the most honest eyes. “Don’t be surprised! They are very cunning and treacherous creatures, I swear by Brahma!”
“Are you telling me that a pack of Nifflers snuck into the Ministry of Magic’s most secure room and stole ten kilograms of gold without anyone noticing?” Justin’s father folded his arms and, after receiving a satisfied nod from his interlocutor, continued, “I’ll study your report carefully. A team of investigators and inquirers will arrive in Calcutta shortly.”
“As you wish! I will provide any assistance to the Crown’s representatives.” The man glanced around furtively. “I’ll also hand over a list of conspirators within the Muggle government. This year, a severe drought has led to famine in the eastern provinces, and these traitors want to blame Her Majesty for everything and start a rebellion.”
“Famine? Last year we had a record harvest. The warehouses were bursting with grain.” Finch-Fletchley looked at Mom, puzzled. “We specifically limited the export of raw materials from the colony to keep prices down and our farmers from suffering.”
“You see, there was a rat plague in the spring,” Patil shook his head guiltily. “Those tailed envoys of Rakshasa devoured thousands of tons of grain. But if necessary, the Auror Office and the Indian Ministry of Defense will assist you in suppressing the rebellion and eliminating the enemies of the Empire!”
“Thank you, Amar, you are a loyal son of the Empire.” Mom nodded thoughtfully. “I hope our children will become friends at school. Have a good day.”
“Goodbye, dear Minister,” Lord Finch-Fletchley nodded to the Indian. “Once you arrive in India, call Governor-General Manning; he’ll be waiting.”
“May Krishna be with you. Goodbye, dear friends.” With a false smile, the wizard family bowed, and we headed toward the magical menagerie.
– Damn monkeys! – When the Indians disappeared into the studio, Mom lit a cigarette. – I told Her Majesty that it’s too early to give these monkeys self-government. Eaton, I have a meeting with the generals tomorrow.
“I already understand, Integra. More unplanned expenses.” The treasurer nodded sadly and continued thoughtfully. “Although… When we find the missing grain, we can sell it to the Soviets or the Chinese, and that will cover part of the costs of the punitive operation. Yes, that’s what we’ll do. Manning was right; that cowardly thief proved very useful.”
“Excuse me, but isn’t the Minister of Magic an elected position?” I decided to voice the question that had been bothering me and my friend throughout the entire conversation. “Why does the Indian Minister of Magic report to you?”
“You see, Rigel,” my mother looked at me warmly, “the population of the Indian colony, despite all the Crown’s efforts, remains savage and uneducated. The Statute was never enforced there—magicians, shamans, snake charmers, and the like still live among the commoners. To somehow control them and hide their magic from outsiders, the King of the British Empire established a Ministry of Magic 150 years ago, subordinate to the Crown. And the Indian Minister of Magic is appointed by the Governor-General of the colony.”
“Does India have its own school of magic?” Hermione asked an interesting question. “Do they use wands, too?”
“Yes, at the foot of the Himalayas, there’s a school named after Krishna. They accept students from ten and teach for five years.” Integra turned to my friend. “The education there is mediocre, the final knowledge base is less than three years of Hogwarts, and the students are picked haphazardly. There have been cases of mundane students graduating, and with excellent grades and diplomas.”
– How? – Three children’s voices merged into one.
“Well, when your father is a local prince or a high-ranking nobleman, anything is possible.” Lord Finch-Fletchley chuckled cheerfully. “Don’t be surprised; there have been even more interesting cases in Africa. When you grow up, you’ll see and find out for yourself.”
Only Mom and I went to the magical menagerie; the rest of us stayed outside. We only need this shop because of the Imperial High School, where all three of us have been enrolled as external students. We’ll receive assignments every month, and during the winter and summer holidays, we’ll report to school for midterm and final exams. These assignments need to be delivered to Hogwarts somehow, and since only Mom has magic, we’ll need to buy her a “homing pigeon.” Magical birds won’t listen to mundane ones. We have Wonderphones for proper communication, but we haven’t yet learned how to send parcels through them.
As soon as we entered, Vasya poked his curious face out and began looking around. It was quite bright and spacious inside, and also clean and quiet. Birds sat in cages near the ceiling, amphibians in aquariums along the left wall, and various furry little animals, also in cages, were to the right. Judging by the way their beaks and mouths opened, they were all screaming like crazy, but the curtain of silence kept the sounds out.
“Good afternoon! Are you looking for a loyal friend or a mail familiar?” A young, fair-haired man in a blue robe appeared before us.
“Yes, my daughter is starting Hogwarts this year, and we need a hardy bird to deliver large packages.” Integra put her hand on my shoulder.
– Hmm… We need an eagle owl or something bigger here. There was also a snowy owl, but that was bought yesterday. – The guy thought for a moment. – Come on, I’ll show you the most suitable ones.
While Mom went to pick out a bird, I decided to take a closer look at the selection and headed for the amphibians first. Stepping over the invisible line, I nearly went deaf: these creatures croaked, squeaked, and hooted down at me from above. Yes, the entire ceiling was covered in owl cages, you could almost get an umbrella. I wasn’t interested in the toads and lizards, but the snakes… Do they all curse, or am I just that lucky?!
– Come on, sixes! – Vasya addressed his brothers from top to bottom. – The ace is coming!
– Go to hell! My ace won’t fit in your mouth! Come here! – That was the most polite thing I heard in response. After all, everything…
– Hello everyone! – I decided to say hello.
– Talking! – There were about thirty small snakes in the terrariums, and they all answered me at once. – Throw away this loser and take me! Me! Shut your mouth, I’ll bite you! And I’m poisonous!
The burgeoning circus was interrupted by a huge black raven, which swooped down on the terrarium lid and cawing majestically at the snakes. Under its gaze, the baby snakes hid, and Vasya tensed and prepared to pounce. The raven was enormous, the size of an eagle or a condor—well, I’m no ornithologist! This feathered, black, and, judging by its appearance, extremely brazen bird must have weighed at least five kilograms. The raven examined me carefully and cawing loudly.
– Are you fucking nuts? This is my Mistress, and she’s about to shove her beak up your ass! – The snake began a strange dialogue with the bird.
– Kharrr. Kar-Kr-Khkrar. – The raven looked at me with curiosity.
– Nooo, it’s taken! There’s a senior Mistress, and she’s fucking awesome! I’ll be fucking awesome! She’s so fucking cool! – I’m starting to guess what they’re discussing.
– Karrrr! Kor-karr. – The black bird fluttered.
– Don’t fuck around! They’ll feed you from the belly and work once every full moon! – Vasya began to persuade the potential familiar. – The nest is over a stream of power, there’s plenty of space! The hunting is good! Why are you acting like a virgin?
– Kraa! Kharr! Karr! – The raven hit the glass lid with its beak, and cracks appeared.
– What did you say? Who the f*ck needs you?! The two-legged ones are taking the goggle-eyed ones here. – Vasya turned to me. – Mistress, let’s move on, this one is fucking around too much!
– Carrrr! – The feathered one stared at me insolently.
“So, fresh meat every day and monthly parcels delivered to Hogwarts. Do you know where that is? ” The raven nodded humanly. ” You serve my mother. If you don’t obey, I’ll personally pluck you and make soup out of you! Agreed?”
– Kaaarr! – Raven bowed his head and looked at Vasya. – Karr, Kharr.
– Сам ты глист ебан*ый! Щас сожру, нигер еб*учий! – Змей повернулся ко мне. – Хозяйка, он согласен. Бери его, он тут самый заеб*ательский. Я чую, остальные чмошники какие-то.
I remembered from a past life how they offered their hand to the eagles in the movies, and I did the same. They don’t wear the glove for nothing, not for nothing. If it hadn’t been for the enchanted robe, razor-sharp claws would have dug into my forearm, but as it was, I only felt a tolerable pain and almost fell. Five kilograms of body weight fell on my arm! Bitch! Groaning and helping myself with my other hand, I went to my mother.
“Mom, I found you a mailman! Look how cute he is!” I made the most innocent face and pointed at Vasya. “He’s ready to serve you faithfully and truly.”
The young seller, seeing this feathered monster, was a little surprised and, smiling, stroked the bird on the head.
“He’s out of his cage again, the little rascal.” The boy turned to Integra. “I’ll warn you right away, this raven is very freedom-loving and willful. He’s already returned to the store three times. Although, if he recognizes you as his master, he’ll be perfect; he’s very smart and resilient.”
– How much? – Mom asked an important question.
“Ten Galleons. But keep in mind,” the guy raised his index finger, “if he runs away or returns to the store, we won’t give you your money back! I’ll warn you again, the raven is very capricious.”
“Agreed.” The woman handed the coins to the clerk and gestured over her shoulder. The raven took off and, after making a lap of honor around the store, landed in the designated spot.
When we went outside, Vasya hid under his cloak again, and Mom looked the bird in the eye and ordered it to fly home. How did the bird know where we lived? Only the omniscient plant knew… So who the hell knows—it’s magic. Our next stop was Flourish & Blotts, a massive two-story bookstore.
There weren’t many people inside, so Hermione, Justin, and I decided to take a look around to see if we could find anything interesting. There really were a huge number of books here, to suit every taste and color, but one thing was off-putting: every book was stamped “Approved by the Ministry of Magic.” Censorship in the wizarding world is strict. After browsing the aisles, I found several interesting books on rune embroidery and picked up a gift edition of “Hogwarts: A History” from the shelf. My friend and I will read it that evening. Justin delved into the section on numerology and number magic; the topic has caught his interest.
I found Hermione on the ground floor, leafing through “The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts.” She was carefully studying one of the last pages. As I approached, she looked up from the book and frowned at me, then looked down and back at me. I walked closer and found out what had so intrigued my best friend.
The reason for our interest was a photograph of Harry Potter looking proudly at us. Judging by the photo’s age, it was quite recent; the boy looked about ten years old. He was wearing dark green silk robes that highlighted the color of his eyes. His hair was about shoulder-length and pulled back in a ponytail, and a pair of rather stylish rectangular glasses gleamed on his nose. Harry was grinning cheerfully and winking at us, and he also looked exactly like me before the ritual. Damn it.
“And when did you want to tell me? I thought we had no secrets.” Hermione raised her right eyebrow and stared at me demandingly.
“There’s nothing to tell.” I sighed heavily and looked my friend in the eyes. “I didn’t want to remember it… I promise I’ll tell you everything. It’s just… It’s hard when you’re betrayed and thrown away like trash.”
The image of Sirius appeared before my eyes, grimacing in disgust and looking at me with revulsion. Then came the Boar’s lustful face, puffing contentedly on me and breathing fumes of alcohol into my face. Every movement he made brought unbearable, hellish pain. I tried to scream, but his sweaty palm squeezed my throat so tightly that it was difficult to breathe and all I could do was wheeze. At that moment, I longed to die, if only this pain, literally tearing me apart from the inside, would finally end. I looked once more at my brother’s contented and happy face, and a lump formed in my throat.
The Holy Scriptures say, “We know not what punishment is, nor what trial.” Why am I being tested like this? Where did I sin so badly? Why?! Why, bitch, do I have to survive for the second life in a row?! Why did I have to endure pain and humiliation again?! I hate it! I will find and kill everyone involved in what that fat hog did to me! I hate it! The air around me trembled, and electric sparks appeared in my hair.
– Riya, calm down! I will never betray you! You have a mother, she loves you very much! – Hermione hugged me tightly and, looking straight into my eyes, continued to calm me down. – Please, calm down! You are not alone anymore. I will always be there, I promise.
Flora flew up from her mistress’s shoulder and, squealing something, kissed me on the nose.
– Quick, get your steel balls in a fist! – Vasya crawled out from under his robe and butted me in the cheek. – If you screw everything up here, who’s going to pay?! They’ll make you work for it with your ass! What the f*ck do we need this for?!
The snake’s last phrase made me smile, and I turned up my Occlumency to maximum. After a couple of breaths, I finally pulled myself together and calmed down, then hugged Hermione tightly. She’s right—I’m not alone anymore. I have a real family: my mother, my little sister Vika, Uncle Alec, the ever-calm Walter, and, of course, my best friend. These sensible people will never abandon me and will always come to my aid. And revenge is a dish best served cold.
And I will repay each one for their malice. I will judge strictly, and they will experience the torments of hell before they stand before the Creator. For my name is Retribution!
So, something got me off track; I got caught up in reading family chronicles yesterday. Finally coming to my senses, I pecked my friend on the forehead.
“Thank you.” Taking her hand, she pulled her toward the checkout. The desire to look for anything interesting had completely disappeared. “Thank you for everything.”
“Idiot.” I caught a light elbow in the liver, but the bulletproof vest softened the blow. I told you, Hermione has a heavy hand. “Next time I’ll just knock you out, hysterical woman.”
“We’ll see who wins.” I smiled and squeezed her hand tighter. “Haven’t you been lying on the mats for a while?”
“It’s just that one lanky girl has really long legs!” Her friend grinned slyly in response.
We jokingly bickered as we approached the checkout counter, where three stacks of textbooks, tied with string, were already stacked on the counter. We placed our books next to them, and Mom counted out the required amount for the clerk. Justin emerged from behind the shelves next to us, carrying a huge stack of books on numerology and number magic, among which I noticed a couple of books on divination.
“Can you imagine?! It turns out you can predict the future with the magic of numbers! Now I’ll study all this,” the guy pointed to his findings, “and I’ll become a great predictor! There. I’ll know whether to budget for repairs to the old minesweeper, or this trough will sink next year.”
Having stuffed our textbooks and books into our bags, we headed to the southern end of Diagon Alley. We decided to buy our wands at the very end, since we had no idea how long it would take to find them. Rabinovich’s process was quick, but Ollivander’s idea of ”The wand chooses the wizard!” was downright silly.
The wand shop was a small, dilapidated two-story building with dingy windows. The paneling had peeled off in places, revealing cracks in the walls. The building was as crooked and lopsided as all the others in the Wizarding Quarter. Behind the dirty and dusty glass display case, a single wand lay on a faded purple cushion, and on a crooked sign with peeling paint, in gold letters, read:
The Ollivander family have been wand makers since 382 BC.
Hmm… It looks like this little house hasn’t been renovated since then. Apparently, the owner lives on the second floor, and the first floor houses a workshop and a shop. We assessed the size of the shop through the window and decided to go in one at a time. Justin and his father were sent out first; I still needed to calm down a bit, and Hermione’s silent support was essential.
The guy came out of the shop about twenty minutes later, beaming with happiness. He showed us a rather beautiful, smooth, golden wand.
“I found it on my fifth try, 19 centimeters, pear and unicorn hair. Perfect for light magic, and pear is the tree of respected and wise people,” the younger Finch-Fletchley reported proudly. “That old man is a bit odd, though. I smashed half his store, and he’s still as happy as a fool on a carousel.”
“Don’t say that,” James, who was standing nearby, intervened. “Ollivander is a genius! Don’t forget that it only takes a couple of waves of your wand to undo the chaos you’ve caused. But seeing the first magic and genuine childish emotions is worth a lot.”
– Sorry, – Justin was a little embarrassed. – Who’s next?
“Let me go.” Hermione headed towards the cracked and shabby door. “Mom, are you coming with me?”
Emma and her daughter entered the shop, and James, Laurie, and I began discussing various materials for magical concentrators. After half an hour, the conversation turned to why wizards had stopped using staves. Just as we were discussing the possibility of creating an One Ring, Hermione appeared, looking rather disgruntled.
– So, did you find it? – Justin was burning with curiosity.
– Yes. This selection is complete nonsense! There’s no logic or system. – The girl stamped her feet in displeasure. – I told him right away that aspen and dragon heartstring would suit me. But no! What are you talking about? It’s the wand that should choose its owner. I wasted a whole hour on this circus.
– And what’s the result? – I can already guess what she’ll demonstrate.
“18.5 centimeters, aspen and dragon heartstring, unknown.” Her friend winced and twirled the snow-white, even graceful, wand in her hand. “Feels worse than Rabinovich’s. Yes, it’s good, but not quite the same. According to the master, it’s perfect for an action movie, so nothing new.”
“My turn. I’ll try to be quick.” Turning to the boys, I pushed the door, which creaked softly, and a bell rang overhead. Mom followed me.
“Good afternoon!” We were greeted by a short, gaunt old man with a tousled head of completely gray hair. He reminded me of the mad professor from Back to the Future, and his silver eyes completed the image. “Have you come for your first wand? Oh, excuse me, where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself, Garrick Ollivander, seller and maker of the world’s finest wands.”
“Lady Integra Hellsing,” Mom nodded politely to the master, “and this is my daughter and heir, Rigel, she needs the best wand you have.”
Hearing our last name, the old master continued to smile, but all the humor had drained from his eyes. He examined my mother carefully, then scanned me like an X-ray, lingering on my face. Having finished his examination, Ollivander nodded to himself and turned to me:
– Which hand do you use to cast spells, miss?
“I’m ambidextrous, sir.” I answered politely; there was no point in teasing the geese.
– Extend your working hand in front of you. – I extended my left hand; I prefer to hold the pistol in my right.
The master waved his wand, and sewing rulers flew around me, measuring my arm in all planes, my waist for some reason, and even my head.
“Enough.” Ollivander clapped his hands, and the measuring instruments fell to the floor. “You are a most unusual client. Yes, this will be interesting! The triumphant return of the Hellsing family to the wizarding world! We need something special!”
His eyes flashed with madness and excitement, and the old man, quick for his age, turned on the spot, ran into the back of the store, and disappeared behind a pile of shelves filled with various flat boxes. For a couple of minutes, nothing happened, and then the sound of falling objects and muffled swearing could be heard in the distance. Hmm… An interesting twist, I’ll have to remember that. The dusty and cobweb-covered old man practically ran back into the store, clutching a dozen dusty boxes.
“Let’s get started! Walnut and dragon heartstring! Very powerful.” He handed me a black, slightly curved wand.
Taking it in my hand, I felt a pleasant warmth and channeled my magic as usual. A scarlet, sparkling flame erupted from the tip of the wand.
“It looks very similar, but it doesn’t fit.” The Master snatched the concentrator from me. “Take this one. Black hazel and a manticore sting.”
I swung it and half the stand shattered into pieces.
– Fine! But not that. – Ollivander held out his hand and I handed the wand back. – Now this…
Over the next forty minutes, I scorched the walls and ceiling several more times, finished off the sales counter, shattered a window, and even one piece of wood didn’t react at all. With each new concentrator, the technician’s smile grew wider and more manic; I think he’s some kind of masochist.
– Maybe there is another way to pick up the stick? – I was already getting tired of this circus, my mother was standing nearby and smoking out of the broken window.
“What are you saying?! It’s the wand that chooses its master, there’s no other way! And all this nonsense about calculations and other nonsense is the machinations of charlatans!” Ollivander leaned slightly so that he was on the same level as me. “A true wizard must find his chosen one. And I think I know what you need.”
The mad old man ran off into the back of the shop again. This time he was gone for about five minutes, and returned with a dusty wooden box. The craftsman wiped away a thick layer of dust with his sleeve and opened it. A matte, pitch-black wand lay on a cushion yellowed with age.
“My grandfather’s work. 18 centimeters, a dead tree where traitors were hanged, and a thestral hair.” The old man didn’t take the concentrator, but handed me the box. “I get it, you don’t need a wand, you need a weapon. And this is the deadliest thing I have.”
I ran my finger along the rough wood and felt a slight tingle, like a bare wire. I picked up the wand and channeled my magic as usual. Lovely! Just a little worse than Rabinovich’s creation. A sheaf of black fiery sparks flew from the tip of the wand, burning the floor as they fell like xenomorph blood. And I grinned stupidly. The old man was surprised; I’d found a suitable weapon. Officially, I’ll be casting magic with it, but for everything else, there’s the cunning Jew’s creation. They’re both fucking awesome!
– Perfect! – Ollivander clapped his hands. – I was right.
– How much? – Mom’s tired voice came from the corner.
“Hmm… Rare materials, damage to the shop, a surcharge for the last name.” The mad master turned into a cunning wizard with an abacus in his hands. “Oh, right! And a fee for long-term storage; this wand has been waiting for you for many years. A total of 273 Galleons, 23 Sickles, and 8 Knuts.”
Holy shit, Harry bought a piece of wood for seven Galleons at the movies! And what kind of extra charge is this for a last name?! What storage?! You Jewish bitch! Compared to him, Rabinovich is a good Samaritan. While I, huffing with indignation and suffering from acute amphibian asphyxiation (I was choking, yeah), Mom silently counted out the required amount and headed for the exit.
“Miss… Hellsing.” Ollivander said my name skeptically, but respectfully, and continued quietly. “I have one request of you.”
– I’m listening to you.
“Please, Miss… Hellsing, when you exact your revenge,” the old master looked me in the eye, “do not kill the innocent. The magical world is not to blame for what happened to you.”
“As it turns out. Goodbye, Master.” I turned around and walked thoughtfully out the door. “These creatures buried me alive. There’s a saying: ‘When you chop down a forest, the chips fly.'”
“Goodbye, young miss,” the old man’s sad voice sounded behind me.
I showed off my new wand to my friends, and the whole group of us headed toward Fortescue’s Cafe. I don’t know about the others, but I was already hungry.
The café was crowded, which wasn’t surprising—it was a sunny day, and everyone wanted to try the famous ice cream. We easily found a seat on the spacious summer veranda, simply pushing a couple of tables together. The menu was varied, with meat dishes in addition to sweets. Lord Finch-Fletchley placed a large order for everyone, including the guards, but our bodyguards ate quickly and took turns. The other patrons glanced at us curiously but didn’t approach us, partly because the soldiers, while not eating, had expressions that said, “We can’t tell jokes ourselves and we won’t let anyone else.”
Having satisfied our hunger and enjoyed some wonderful ice cream in pleasant company, we finally headed home. More than half a day of shopping had left us more exhausted than a 20-kilometer march with a weighted backpack.
As we approached the Leaky Cauldron, we had an unpleasant encounter. A young, sleek, dark-haired man in an expensive robe walked through the magical archway. He looked around haughtily, spotted Lori, who was walking ahead of our group, grinned slyly, and approached her.
“So, Ward, have you finally gone into service with the purebloods?” The fop looked us over appraisingly. “Well, yes, expensive robes, a measured gait, and we look down on everyone. No wonder they mistake us for rich foreigners.” The bastard noticed James and winked at him, to which our brave sergeant clenched his fists and twitched his jaw. Then the boy remembered his manners and nodded politely to the adults. “Good day to you, sirs. Have you recently arrived in Wizarding Britain?”
“What’s your purpose in asking?” Mom tilted her head to the side and looked the impudent brat over appraisingly.
“Well, I was just wondering how such respected and wealthy wizards could hire this Mudblood scum into their service?” The boy pointed a finger at James and nodded towards Laurie. “And is it possible to rent this ‘beauty’ from you for the night? Our last date wasn’t a success, and I’d like to make it up to you.”
– Hey, handsome! – Victoria attracted the impudent fellow’s attention with a sweet smile. – Catch!
The vampire tossed a coin, and the guy automatically caught it, then disappeared with a pop. We stared in surprise at Victoria, who was now feigning innocence.
“Sergey said he needed a visual aid for his spellcasting exam.” His eyes blinked innocently. “I was looking for it, but it just showed up. That meat is in the lower-level cell now.”
Our brave sergeants broke into anticipatory smiles, but their mother cut them off.
“First, he needs to be interrogated. Walter, handle it.” The butler nodded politely. “In any case, I will not tolerate such an insult to my people. Hellsing’s enemies don’t live long; his fate will be decided after the interrogation.”
Oddly enough, the other passersby didn’t notice the freak’s disappearance. Perhaps they thought he’d apparated, or maybe someone had cast a powerful distraction charm on us. Whatever, the main thing is to get home; I’m tired today. Hermione, too, was nodding off nearby; she didn’t even complain that the spells Black had been teaching us for the last month would have to be practiced on a living person.
And who is this fop? What kind of idiot would approach unknown wizards so brazenly? Fine, I’ll find out everything at the estate. On that note, our adventure ended, and we headed home.
Author’s note: Dear readers! There are many more chapters on the AuthorToday website, and the book is also completely free there! Unfortunately, LitNet prohibits posting links to third-party resources, but this book can be found in searches without any problem!
