Chapter 29
“Bitch!” I threw the thick folder labeled “James Potter” at the wall with all my heart. Back in early August, a couple of days after shopping at Diagon Alley, my mother brought me the dossier she’d compiled on my parents and said:
“Daughter, I don’t want to denigrate your biological parents…” Integra looked at me sadly and placed another folder on top, its yellowed cover bearing the inscription “Arthur Hellsing.” “But you must know this. Remember, they died for you. Despite everything, I still cherish the bright image of my father in my memory.”
So I decided not to ruin my childhood memories and put the documents away in a drawer. Of course, it didn’t last long—curiosity got the better of me. The poet’s soul couldn’t take it! The first one to go was the “James Potter” folder, which contained the testimonies and memoirs of his fellow students, four of whom are now serving in Hellsing. “Filth” is a perfect description of the contents; my dad was a spoiled brat, driven nuts by his permissiveness. Of course, he was, the sole heir to a rich and influential family! He and Black had formed a gang back in their first year, calling themselves the Marauders, and recruiting a couple of hangers-on—Pettigrew and Lupin. I remembered those losers from the movies, typical hangers-on—one betrayed, the other ditched.
So, these golden youths started causing mayhem right from their first year, sending a certain Prince to the hospital wing. The boy barely survived, and this in his first year! The Prince turned out to be no slouch: he recovered, left the infirmary, and picked out Potter and Black one by one, sending them off to get better as well. But the boys weren’t used to getting beat up, so the next day, the Potters, Blacks, and Aurors from the D.M.P. were all in school. The Half-Blood Prince was saved by the fact that his family was a vassal of the Malfoys, and the radiant blond lord showed up personally to intercede for the boy.
The cause of the conflict turned out to be the Mudblood Evans. The Little Prince had befriended her on the train; he’d taken a liking to the kind, red-haired girl, but fate had her sorted her into Gryffindor. Even in the feuding house, Lily didn’t stop talking to her friend, and when Black called him Snivellus, she broke the flea-bitten one’s nose. So, the brats ended up together in the hospital wing.
The prince was brutally beaten and thrown down the third-floor stairs by Potter and Black, and naive Lily was scolded by her classmates, who said it was unbecoming for a Mudblood to raise a hand against a pureblood heir. According to those who studied with them, the incident only strengthened the friendship between the Slytherin and Gryffindor.
Besides the Prince, the gang regularly played pranks on Muggle-borns and half-bloods, though, remarkably, they spared the heirs of the old families. Their pranks were always cruel and sadistic. For example, they swapped one boy’s shampoo with bubotubers’ pus. Or they covered the stairs with ice so that the victim would plummet from the second or third floor. Or they smeared feces all over the victim’s personal belongings. There were countless such cases, but they got away with everything, with the exception of the Potters and Blacks who occasionally paid for the victims’ medical treatment.
In his fourth year, Potter got a good beating from a fifth-year half-blood, who they shaved bald at night, smeared with shit, and hung naked in the common room. So, my dad’s parents called the D.M.P., and the boy was convicted of attempted murder and attempted murder of the heir of a most ancient and noble family. The poor guy got ten years in Azkaban and died a couple of months later.
And then there’s more! In their fifth year, they got completely off track, and their victims were Björn Skoglund and Iriga Haaland. These two purebloods enrolled a year after their father’s gang and were different from the rest. Descendants of Vikings, they fled the Great War from Norway to Britain, and their children entered Hogwarts: the tall, blue-eyed, blonde beauty Iriga, and Björn—six feet tall and healthy as a bear, with a mane of wheat-colored braids. They didn’t pick fights or humiliate the Mudbloods, and Björn regularly sent the Marauders for treatment, despite being a year younger… But then something terrible happened.
Fourth-year Iriga and her friends went to Hogsmeade, while her official fiancé, Bjorn, was away on detention with Filch that day, along with Pettigrew, whom he had beaten up for harassing his fiancée. Then Iriga disappeared—she went to powder her nose in the restroom of the Three Broomsticks café and never returned. Her friends even organized a search party, led by Gryffindor Prefect Lupin, and began combing the magical village. Meanwhile, the stunned girl was dragged to a room on the second floor of Madam Puddifoot’s café, drugged with amortization, and abused all day by Potter and Black, in a particularly perverted manner. In short, it was a complete mess.
That evening, the Viking learned of everything and nearly killed the golden couple. James was already lying bleeding from multiple fractures, and Björn was strangling Sirius with his bare hands, but McCoshka immobilized the boy, preventing him from completing his revenge. Skoglund swore by magic that he would kill the rich kids and leave with his bride for Norway as soon as she left the hospital wing. He didn’t make it.
The next day, the proud Viking slipped and fell down the eighth-floor stairs. When his disgraced fiancée was informed of her lover’s death, she, realizing what had happened to her, left the infirmary, went to the nearest empty classroom, put up all the protection she knew, and hanged herself. The professors were too late to save her.
A week later, the Skoglund and Haaland families were attacked by Death Eaters, leaving no survivors. Thus ended the story of two young pureblood families who had come to Wizarding Britain from Norway. And all because of two young freaks.
According to respondents, something strange also happened at the end of their fifth year. Evans, who couldn’t stand the Marauders, suddenly changed her behavior and became the gang’s fifth member. She also began behaving extremely provocatively and depravedly, publicly allowing others to do things to her that would get you smashed in the face with a candelabra in polite society.
The prince tried to intervene and take his friend away, but was publicly humiliated—he was hung naked upside down in front of the entire school. Lily simply watched silently, sitting on Potter’s lap as he groped her breasts, while Black used the Slytherin as a punching bag. Remarkably, the teachers ignored the incident and walked past. The mayhem was stopped by prefects Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black, who also proceeded to give Sirius a beating.
According to one of the fighters, my mother’s behavior changed dramatically after the trip to Hogsmeade, and he had some assumptions…
It was disgusting to read on, there’s so much filth in the senior years… Bitches! Creatures! And this bastard is my father?! No wonder I decided to erase everything Potter-esque from myself during the ritual. How can you be such a scum?! Okay, Rigel, calm down! Sparks in your hair are a bad sign. I mentally gave myself a powerful kick and turned on Occlumency to maximum. Using telekinesis, I lured the thick folder back into my hands and put it in the desk drawer, along with the other two.
Lily’s file contained information about two different people: a kind, modest girl before her fifth year, and a depraved slut afterward. I’ll definitely find out what those jerks did to her; fortunately, one of them is still alive.
She glanced at her grandfather’s dad and thought about it. He’d be perfect: a horny whore, a bit of a sadist, and a real scumbag, although… The soldiers idolized him! He’d been in some pretty nasty situations and still carried the lives of his soldiers, and that deserves respect. He died as a warrior should—in battle, saving his soldiers. All in all, a contradictory character, and he also loved killing and torturing.
After reading all this filth, I needed to calm down; my hands were shaking with anger for a long time. I looked at my bright pink rolling suitcase; I thought I’d packed everything for tomorrow’s trip. Needing a distraction, I decided to take a hot bath, calm down, and sort through the last month. August flew by quickly and rather productively.
***
I filled the bath, poured in some bubbles, and added some aromatic salts. I quickly stripped off my clothes and slooooowly sank into the hot water up to my chin.
– Ok. I’ll miss this at Hogwarts, though… – I glanced at the shelf with soaps and toiletries. Right! I almost forgot. There’s a bathtub in my suitcase, so I’ll allow myself such moments of pleasure.
This time, the old pervert surprised me. This year, Alucard’s gift was a bright pink leather suitcase on wheels with a retractable handle. If it weren’t for the ugly color, I’d say it was beautiful. This yoz monster felt very strange – alive and very hungry. Already realizing what awaited me, I ran for a vial of blood-forming potion, cut my palm with an athame, and pressed it to the leather handle. The suitcase drank at least half a liter of my blood and then, it seemed to me, smacked loudly and burped contentedly. After drinking the potion and restoring my state, I unzipped the case, flipped back the lid, and peered inside. I rubbed my eyes and looked again.
Inside the suitcase was an exact replica of my quarters. Following my intuition, I stepped onto the transparent bottom and descended smoothly, like an elevator. After wandering through the new chambers, I found a couple more rooms, namely a large storage room for stasis charms and a weapons storage room. The only difference from the “upper” rooms was that magical lamps were used here instead of electricity. The fireplace turned out to be functional, but where the smoke went and where the wood came from—I didn’t bother to figure out how it all went, as it was too complicated for me right now.
So, a week before the end of August, my mother asked me to roll my suitcase to the arsenal. Soldiers were already waiting for me there with boxes of ammunition, weapons, explosives, and pallets of food. Now I have a veritable portable Hitler bunker with me, with a year’s supply of provisions and an arsenal for an entire platoon, maybe even two. My gut tells me I could even survive a nuclear explosion inside.
So. I’ve moved my things, there’s plenty of food, weapons, and ammunition, I’ve also packed some books, and there’s still some bubble bath and bath salts left. We’re done packing. What else interesting happened? I plunged headfirst into the hot water and remembered my lessons with Walter. Damn… I immediately wanted to add bleach to the water.
***
When we returned home from our visit to Diagon Alley, we had a hearty dinner, and I was about to head upstairs. All that wandering had left me quite tired. But my plans were dashed; our butler approached me with a polite nod.
– Young lady, do you remember that there is a prisoner languishing in the cell who dared to insult us?
– I remember Mom said you’d take care of him. – I have a bad feeling about this.
“The lady and I have consulted and decided that you are old enough. Therefore, I invite you to come with me.” Walter headed toward the dungeons, and I hurried after him. The old man turned to me and spoke quietly: “Besides my duties as your mother’s butler and bodyguard, I have another. For over two hundred years, I have been a master of pain in the Order of Protestant Knights. I have never yet failed to coax a prisoner into talking. This knowledge will be useful to you in the future.”
“Um… What about Imperio and the truth serum?” “In my past life, operatives certainly beat confessions out of villains. I myself, on several occasions, put a bag over a thug’s head and suffocated him until he confessed. The most stubborn and insolent ones I sent to the “girls'” cell, where in the morning we found a broken man with a battered ass. Such a specimen would sign anything, just to avoid ending up in that cell again. It seemed to me that magic was much easier to achieve the desired result.
“You’re right, but Imperio can be resisted, and to use Veritaserum, you need to ask questions clearly.” The butler smiled predatorily. “Today, using our guest as an example, I’ll demonstrate several techniques. How to inflict maximum pain on the victim with a minimum of injury and trauma.”
Now I know how to properly insert needles under fingernails, and how to stick them into gums, right at the nerve endings. I can cauterize genitals with metal… I even used a blowtorch, a terrifying invention of the Inquisition. For the first twenty minutes, the insolent fop screamed obscenities and threatened to find him soon and kill us at length. Then, for about half an hour, he begged us to stop and promised to tell him everything he knew. Only after an hour and a half, when the boy was already begging for death in a broken voice, did Walter say the subject was ready and he could ask questions. With a wave of his hand, he healed the prisoner’s wounds, placed an iron collar on him, and chained him to the wall like a dog.
The brazen brat’s name was Tony Allen, a fourth-generation pureblood. He was a Ravenclaw, where he became part of Dayu Chang’s entourage, and that Chinese bitch turned out to be a true sadist. Tony and his friends helped her torment those who couldn’t fight back. It was they who disfigured Laurie’s face. First, they beat James for a long time, even burning him with hot rods. To stop the abuse, Laurie was forced to kneel and service three bastards in turn, while Chang, sitting on a chair, watched with amusement. When Laurie refused, and James passed out from the pain, they beat her and doused her with acid. That’s the kind of fun kids have at Hogwarts.
Catching on a familiar name (I remember Potter drooling over a Chinese woman in the movies), I continued asking questions. It turned out there’s a whole clan of Changs in London. They supply rare ingredients from China to the shops of Diagon Alley and drugs to Knockturn Alley. Chinese lotus pollen is a magical analogue of cocaine, and this flower grows only in China. The most interesting thing is that the law in Wizarding Britain simply doesn’t recognize the concept of narcotics! So they sell this stuff legally. According to Allen, in the mid-1970s, Dumbledore tried to push through a law banning the sale of addictive psychotropic substances, but it was rejected almost unanimously. The Changs pay high taxes and duties on their goods.
The Chinese have only two restrictions on Lotus Pollen. First, the old families warned the slant-eyes that if this stuff showed up in the shops of Diagon Alley, they’d be screwed. After all, pure-blooded noble children stroll those bright streets! What can I say, the Chinese were impressed. Second, Dumbledore personally appeared at the Changs’ home and announced that if even a gram of the drug showed up at Hogwarts, he’d deport them back to China, piecemeal. The clan leader tried to brawl and instantly turned into dog meat, along with his bodyguards. Ever since, the slant-eyes have been terrified of their good grandfather.
The brazen idiot himself went to work for the Chinese after school, delivering “Lotus Pollen” to the brothels and dives of Lyutny. He’s a terrible dealer, though—Tony himself is hooked on the stuff. In fact, he was high when we met, hence his brazen and erratic behavior. He told me so much more, I barely restrained myself from shooting the bastard. Then I remembered what spells we’d be practicing on him, and that there were still five days before Sergei arrived, which the naive young man would spend quite intensely in the company of his former victims. And I calmed down.
“You have performed well, young lady,” the butler praised me as we left the cell. “You are a worthy heir to the Hellsing family, and I will be sure to report your success to Lady Integra.”
“Thank you.” That’s all I could squeeze out. After all, I’m not used to torturing people.
“We’ll have a couple more lessons this month. I’ve already written down a serial killer sentenced to death,” Walter said, “delighting” me. “And in another week, the EBRI will deliver a suspected spy to us.”
– Who will deliver? – I’m already prepared.
“The Imperial Unity and Security Directorate,” the butler explained in a calm voice. Why the hell do these abbreviations seem normal to everyone around them?!
***
I thoroughly soaped the washcloth and began scrubbing my body with rage. Those two bastards turned out to be some truly fantastic beasts. I heard their screams and wails of pain for a couple of days, although the third bastard made the torture much easier; you get used to everything. Fuck, you can’t get used to this! I plunged my head into the hot water again, washing away all the dirt that had clung to me in the dungeons of our estate, and thought of Hermione.
The day after our first lesson with the butler turned out to be a day off, leaving my friend and me with only lessons with the Dark Lord and firearms training for August. Our brave sergeants were busy chasing Justin around. Finch-Fletchley turned out to be a very diligent guy and spent all his free time either in the gym or practicing the spells we’d demonstrated. So I asked Victoria to take me to Crawley; it had been a while since Hermione and I had even gone for a walk.
First, we went to a cafe where we had a hearty meal, and then we headed to the park. There was a small lake with a bunch of comfortable benches. We settled down on one of them and started chatting, first about magic, then about school, and ended up having an evening of revelations.
I told Hermione everything I remembered before I arrived at the orphanage. It was hard, but, straining every mental barrier, I told my best friend my story in a robotic voice. When I finished, she hugged me with tears in her eyes, and then she broke down too. I learned in detail about her fear of loneliness, how her parents feared and avoided her, about the bullying at school. How she dreamed of making friends, and how I changed her life.
Then we sat silently, hugging each other, admiring the sunset. It was a wonderful day…
***
I climbed out of the warm water and began drying myself with a fluffy towel. Magic was an option, of course, but it didn’t feel the same. Wrapping my hair in the towel and putting on a terrycloth robe, I settled into a soft chair and pulled out my diary with notes from Sergey’s most recent lessons. In those two months, he’d managed to teach us three spells, though Hermione still hasn’t mastered the last one—it’s quite specialized and requires knowledge of anatomy, and her friend blushes in embarrassment, and that’s all.
Overall, our magical arsenal is pretty good; we know a ton of everyday spells. We don’t have as many combat spells, of course, but we passed the Black exam with flying colors! First, we demonstrated a wandless Finite and a nonverbal Protego. Then, we practiced Stupefy, Expelliarmus, Incarcero, Reducto, and Confringo on dummies. The last one is still very weak and almost useless; it’s easier to punch someone in the face or put a bullet in the stomach. Nodding contentedly, Sergei ordered everyone to get out their notebooks and take notes.
His first spell is a custom modification that causes antlers to sprout from the target’s head. It seems like a typical joke charm, but our Soviet Black reworked the design and “darkened” it, so the sprouting antlers now cause incredible pain. Only a qualified healer of at least Journeyman rank can remove the spell. Even standard defensive spells don’t stop it. A slight bend of the wand, the verbal incantation of Anteoducatia, and the victim screams in pain, clutching their head, and then claws at the ceiling with their branching antlers.
The second spell turned out to be a modification of a favorite technique of Grindelwald’s dogs during the Great War. Originally known as Zolkaro, it was a black beam that pierced almost all magical shields and pierced the victim, infecting them with a flesh-rotting curse. Anyone who caught this curse died in excruciating pain within minutes. After the war, the MCM classified it as an Unforgivable and banned it, and the Black Magic spell removed the flesh-rotting curse but added an air tornado, thus creating a new spell that wasn’t banned. You twirl your wand, cast Zolkaro, and a fast black spiral flies at the enemy, just as unstoppable as its “grandfather” by standard shields.
Seeing a victim’s limbs disintegrate into bloody pulp, as if under the blades of a blender, is both disgusting and mesmerizing. And the way Tony Allen screamed when Hermione turned his legs into a bloody mess, wow… At first, she refused, but when the bastard began repenting under Imperio, how he spent his entire seventh year forcing a pretty second-year girl to her knees, his fate was sealed. After our lessons, he turned into a samovar. Author’s note: After WWII, that’s what they called people who had lost all their limbs; we barbarically amputated his arms and legs. With Sergei’s permission, Lori, with a smile, blew his head off with Confringo. The only thing the teacher warned was that the Zolvortex was fatal if it hit the torso, and he instructed that it should only be used as a last resort, when life was in real danger.
I turned the diary page, the last one, heh-heh… Sergei called it the fourth unforgivable, because like Avada, it penetrates any shield, and is also initially non-verbal and gestureless. But it requires a good knowledge of anatomy, concentration, and a huge desire to inflict pain on the victim. Mia couldn’t replicate it, but I managed it, though it took over a month of training. I simply remembered that disgusting face that had twisted in disgust when looking at me many years ago.
After leafing through the entries again, I put the diary in my school bag and lay down on the bed. Tomorrow was already September 1st, and the magic train would take us to the magic school. I felt movement and lifted the blanket, and Vasya immediately snuggled closer to me. I stroked his smooth scales, and the imp recovered.
***
A week ago, while my friend and I were sitting in my room, leafing through a copy of the treatise “On the Exorcism of Evil,” which I had borrowed from the family library, a snake crawled up to us with a strange request.
“Mistress, the time has come. I feel like I need to drink your blood. ” The hose stared at me demandingly. ” And let the curly one give the winged one some water, she needs it too. Otherwise, the little brat will die soon, and I don’t want that.”
“Oops, why the blood? What will happen? And why will Flora die? ” I turned to the snake, perplexed.
– Fuck. Great Anunakh, why are bipeds so stupid? – Vasya turned to the heavens. – I don’t know what will happen! But I feel it needs to be! Our connection will strengthen, and I will become even more fucking awesome! And the winged one… They only live a couple of winters and then die, and so she will draw strength from the curly one. Just a little bit, that raging one won’t even notice. The winged one is good, she will live a long time.
When I translated our conversation to Hermione, she immediately agreed and, pricking her finger, dropped a drop of blood directly into the little fairy’s mouth. I did the same, only Vasya lapped up much more. As soon as Flora took a sip, she yawned heartily, stretched, and curled up, snoring in her mistress’s arms.
“We’ll sleep for a couple of moons .” The snake licked its lips contentedly and yawned. ” Don’t tilt it; in case of a fire, carry it out first.”
The impudent familiar curled up in my lap and passed out, and I felt a slight drain of magic. The scaly one slept for almost four days, during which time it grew about ten centimeters, its scales became brighter, and the bony crown on its head became more clearly defined. Maybe it really will grow into a basilisk. The most interesting thing is, after this simple ritual, I began to sense its state and approximate location; now we are truly Master-Familiar. Flora also changed slightly: her transparent wings turned a soft blue, and, according to Hermione, the fairy has become smarter. We’ll check later, maybe we can teach it to read and write. I tried with Vasya, but he cursed me out and crawled into the ventilation. That’s enough thinking. I’m still worried; tomorrow we’re going to Hogwarts. I wonder if everything will be like in the movies? I started replaying the first film in my mind and didn’t notice how I fell asleep.
***
– Vasya, stop annoying me! Get going, I mean! – I’ve been arguing with that wayward snake for twenty minutes now. At this rate, we’ll be late for the train.
“Mistress, go get the goat in the crack! I’m the king of snakes! I’m not some fucking sneezer! I’m not going in that! ” Scaly absolutely refuses to climb into the cat carrier they bought especially for him. He’s grown quite a bit, 127 centimeters from nose to tail, and carrying him around isn’t exactly pleasant.
“Okay. To hell with you, goldfish. ” I sat down tiredly on the bed and held out my hand. Vasya climbed up it with a contented purr and, as usual, rested his head on my shoulder. Insolent bastard.
After checking my things again, I slung my school bag over my shoulder and grabbed the handle of my rolling suitcase. It was time. Mom was already waiting for me downstairs, wearing her usual pantsuit, and Victoria, in a black robe. I immediately put on my school uniform and threw on my dress robe, which had been custom-made in Moscow, with the Hellsing crest on the right chest.
Mom examined me carefully and checked all my protective artifacts: the hairpins on my head to prevent hair loss, the earrings against mind reading, the emergency Portkey punch around my neck. And, of course, the rings: two on my left hand, for protection against magic and kinetics, two on my right, a poison detector, and a massive black ring with a red diamond—the heiress’s ring. Incidentally, it performs all the above-mentioned functions at once, and also doubles as a small seal, used to sign documents. This ring is the only one visible to everyone around, so they know: whoever attacked me is attacking Hellsing, and the enemies of the Order don’t live long. We nodded silently at each other and walked outside. Walter was waiting by the car.
We reached the station fairly quickly, where Dan and Hermione were already meeting us. Jean stayed home with little Hector. Five minutes later, Lord Finch-Fletchley arrived with his son. After greeting them, we headed to platform 9 3/4; it was already half past ten. At the station, I noticed several of our plainclothes officers and Scotland Yard employees; they always stand guard near the platform entrance these days; you never know what wizards might get up to. There have been instances of people suddenly deciding to jump in front of an oncoming train; it was just schoolchildren playing a prank on Muggles.
There was no one near the portal to the magical part, and we walked calmly through the wall. Victoria went first, then Mom and I, then the Grangers and Finch-Fletchley with two guards brought up the rear.
Platform 9 3/4, like Diagon Alley, was utterly magical! Even the air seemed cleaner here than at the station, despite the steam locomotive billowing black smoke. This chthonic monster seemed straight out of a Lumière brothers film! The red train was mesmerizing, looking brand new and perfectly in tune with its surroundings; it was as if we’d been transported back in time a hundred years. The carriages looked cozy and well-maintained, as if inviting us to quickly take our seats and enter a fairy tale. Yep, by the Brothers Grimm.
The station was bustling with people: some were shouting, others were frantically rummaging through luggage, and somewhere, important people in expensive robes were sedately discussing something. And over there, a pretty young woman in a strange hat with a griffin on her head was giving final instructions to a large boy and handing him an aquarium with a toad. We headed for the last car, traditionally reserved for first-year students. Victoria was in front, and I was holding my mother with one arm and a pink suitcase with the other. Next to her, Mia was holding her father’s hand. She had decided not to take the suitcase, as all her things fit in the bag; the rest would be stored with me later. Behind her, Justin was walking with his father, dragging a brown suitcase—our artificers had enchanted and rune-engraved not only our uniforms but also the boy’s luggage.
A large fireplace blazed in the distance, and a prominent procession emerged from it, and my hands clenched into fists. Flea-bitten bitch! In front, wearing a black silk robe and an arrogant expression, walked Sirius Black, who hadn’t changed much since our last meeting. Next to him walked a rather attractive, tall, brunette woman in a dark blue robe, holding two girls by the hands. Both had black hair and blue eyes, one a little older than me, and the other about my age. These were obviously the flea-bitten bitch’s wife and daughters. Sirius himself was holding my brother’s hand, who was trying to imitate his godfather’s gaze and gait. It wasn’t working out well, but the boy tried, raising his nose even higher. It took me a while to notice a tall, very beautiful girl standing next to them, who would have looked a lot like me if not for her bright red hair. She looked at Sirius with a certain disdain and walked slightly to the side. Only the Black crest on her robes indicated her affiliation with that family.
When Black and I locked eyes, he stumbled out of nowhere, and his wife stared at me in disbelief, to which I grinned predatorily and turned away. “He found out, bitch. Sooner or later I’ll send you to the dungeons of our estate, where you’ll answer for everything, you monster. We’ll see what he does; my pistol is loaded with enchanted explosive rounds and every other one with liquid silver.” I squeezed my mother’s hand tighter; she looked at me, then at the Blacks, who were staring at us with wide eyes, and grimaced in disgust. Sirius gritted his teeth in anger, but didn’t dare come closer. At some point, a woman with a vulture on her head and her charge approached them, and the Blacks began to chat, ignoring us.
“Rigel, remember, you’re the heir to the Hellsing family. Behave with dignity.” Mom knelt down in front of me and hugged me. “Promise to call every day. If there’s any danger, activate the Portkey immediately!”
“I understand, Mom, I promise.” I hugged the woman who loved me so tightly. “Don’t worry, I can stand up for myself.”
“Don’t take unnecessary risks! If anything happens to you, I’ll raze this castle to the ground.” Integra looked me in the eyes. “If you need anything, call me immediately, and remember, the Order of Protestant Knights stands behind you.”
“Thank you.” The train whistle rang, calling us to our seats in the compartment, and I kissed my mother on the cheek. “Bye, see you during the Christmas holidays. Goodbye, Mr. Granger, Lord Finch-Fletchley.”
“If anyone offends you, just tell me.” My sister hugged me tightly. “I’ll drink it dry, the castle’s protection won’t stop me, I checked.”
“I understand,” I patted the vampire on the back. “See you on vacation.”
A bright flash from the fireplace sent a crowd of red-haired children, a plump woman tugging a cute red-haired girl by the hand, and a skinny man with a cart full of wooden chests rushing toward the train. On their way to the car, they nearly knocked over a tall, platinum-blond man, who, with a beautiful woman matching his height, was escorting an equally fair-haired girl in a dark green robe. Having reached our car, the red-haired camp began noisily saying goodbye not far from our compartment. They were completely oblivious to their surroundings, and the plump woman seemed to be shouting louder than the locomotive.
– Percy! Watch your brothers! – She turned to the eldest.
“Mom, I have to go to the headmen’s carriage.” The boy tries to fight off his mother’s embrace.
“I don’t care! Merlin forbid, let it not happen again like last year!” At these words, the two red-haired twins lowered their heads guiltily, and their father angrily slapped them both and silently looked them both in the eye. The boys simply nodded at their father’s admonition and trudged toward the train, their wild heads bowed. Remarkably, their mother didn’t hug them.
“Ronykins! Be a good boy, study hard, and most importantly, eat well.” The family matriarch leaned over and wiped the soot from his face with a handkerchief while the boy silently endured his mother’s love. His father patted him on the shoulder understandingly.
“Mom, I want to go to Hogwarts too!” The younger girl stamped her foot in a cute pink shoe. “I hate pink!”
“Of course, my dear, you’ll go next year!” The red hen looked warmly at her daughter.
– But I want to now! – The girl started to be capricious. – With my brothers!
“Ginny, be patient!” Ronniekins turned to his sister and winked. “Time will fly by, next year I’ll give you a tour and show you the most hidden corners I can find!”
– Do you promise? – The girl smiled, hmm… And she looks a bit like Lily – her hair, the shape of her face.
“Of course, little sister.” The boy hugged the girl, shook her father’s hand, and hugged her mother again. “I’ll definitely send you an owl tomorrow, don’t be bored!”
As far as I could tell, these were Weasleys, not like the movie characters. Clean, tidy, wearing decent-sized clothes. The woman in a nice blue dress and matching robes, the father in a good brown three-piece suit. And the children, though noisy, are well-mannered and respectful. And considering the Black family, the difference from the film was significant in the first half hour alone. Oh yeah, and the woman with the vulture on her head—that’s probably Neville’s grandmother, but she looks more like his older sister. It’s all strange… Well, we’ll see, as they say.
The train blew its third whistle and pulled away. Justin pulled out his wand and gallantly levitated my suitcase onto the overhead rack, placing it next to his own. I waved goodbye to my mother and looked at Hermione, who also waved to my father and sadly turned away. The girl, like the boy, was already wearing a school uniform and an expensive robe from a Moscow atelier called, drum roll, SHMARA—the Sewing Magical Artel of Handmade Artificers. I wasn’t even surprised; what a crazy world…
I lowered my hand, allowing Vasya to slide onto the soft sofa. Flora immediately sat on his head and began stroking his bone crown. Justin dug his arm up to his elbow in his bag and pulled out a chess set. Hermione nodded contentedly and pointed to the table by the window, and I opened a book on rune embroidery. I have a couple of ideas on how to make the flak jacket even more comfortable. Yes, we are paranoid, and we enjoy it! Under our school uniforms, we wear protective equipment, which neither the boys nor I intend to take off.
Okay, let’s see what other differences from the film I find during the trip. I hope it goes smoothly.
