Chapter 31
Hermione and Justin were playing chess, and I was quietly reading a book, but the rhythmic clatter of the wheels and the swaying of the carriage made me feel sleepy. The seats in the carriages were large and comfortable, and I’d already decided to get a good nap, but alas, my plans were not destined to come true. A few compartments away, I heard loud boyish laughter and shouts, followed by a crash and the sound of a blow. The compartment doors were mostly glass, but there were no curtains, so we didn’t close them. A pity. A few minutes later, when the loud boyish laughter and jeers had died down, His Majesty Ron Weasley stumbled into our compartment.
The boy trudged along, his head down, dragging a huge trunk behind him. His robes were torn, and his hair was stained dark blue, most likely from ink. Ron peered into our compartment, and I noticed a split lip—the boy had clearly been in a fight; the knuckles of his right fist were bruised.
“Are you free?” the redhead muttered and, without waiting for an answer, groaned as he tossed his trunk onto the shelf. The kid’s in great shape! That wooden monster weighs at least twenty kilograms. Ron sat down across from me, leaning his shoulder against the compartment wall, and lowered his head.
– Umm… I’m Justin Finch-Fletchley, and these are my friends: Hermione Granger and Rigel Hellsing. – After five minutes of tense silence, our gentleman decided to take matters into his own hands. – And what is your name, silent intruder?
– Oh! Sorry! – Ginger jumped as if stung, came out of his trance and began to nod politely at us. – My name is Ron, Ron Weasley.
Incidentally, this is one of the pureblood traditions—in the magical world, men don’t shake hands, no matter what kind of ring the other man might have. And don’t forget about malefics; it’s very easy to curse them in direct contact.
– Likewise, who is this to you? – Hermione looked up from the chessboard and nodded at the boy. – Sorry if I’m butting in where it’s none of my business.
– What’s the matter, it’s all Potter, the snob. I’ll show him yet. – Ron shook his fist. – I wanted to be friends with him, but he and Longbottom started calling him names. And then the four-eyes guy poured ink on my head, and I hit him. That’s it.
– Sweet, then you shouldn’t be friends with people like that. – I looked at Weasley. – Let me fix your robe, will you?
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Ryzhik muttered quietly and blushed. “This is my only formal robe, passed down from my older brother. Percy is very careful with his things.”
While I was repairing the rather well-made robe, I carefully examined the boy’s clothes. Yes, the robe wasn’t new, but it was clean and fit him perfectly. Ron’s other clothes weren’t new either, but they were just as clean, intact, and fit him like they’d been tailored.
“My mom’s a seamstress, she even has a small workshop where she makes custom clothes for neighbors and friends.” Ron noticed my professional look and continued proudly, “Even Malkin comes to her in the summer when he can’t keep up with his orders.”
“She did a good job. Now it’s as good as new.” I cleared the guy’s wardrobe of ink with a wave of my wand, but he’ll figure out his own mind, he’s not a kid.
“Thank you.” Weasley blushed again and reached into his inside pocket. “Here, I don’t have anything else valuable on me.”
Another pureblood tradition is that no one will ever help a casual acquaintance without reason; they must give something in return or provide an equivalent service. The boy handed me a box of chocolate frogs.
– Just this, will you show me the card later? – He looks at the floor, fiddling with his robe. – I collect them, we can swap later, I have a lot of duplicates.
“Okay.” I nodded and pocketed the present. I probably would have experienced cognitive dissonance, but I was just in shock. Where was that arrogant red-haired jerk from the movies? Maybe Malfoy would turn out to be a normal guy too? It was a good thing I didn’t tell Mom about the movies; so many differences had come up in just half an hour! Maker, at least the stone was still there, I couldn’t care less!
“Are you foreigners? Did you come from abroad to study?” Ron decided to keep the conversation going. “You don’t look Muggle-born, but I haven’t heard your last names before, but yours seems very familiar.”
That last sentence was meant for me. Justin looked at me and shrugged, as if to say, “Deal with it yourself.” Mia wasn’t there, she was hypnotizing the chess team. It was all about her painful pride; she’d decided she’d draw at least one game with our genius; there was no talk of winning. I already call Justin Kasparov in my head; there’s a genius like Garry in this world, too, and he’s already won a couple of international tournaments.
“We’re mundane. Hermione’s parents are doctors, they fix people’s teeth. Justin is the heir of Lord Finch-Fletchley, it’s Muggle aristocracy, his father sits in the House of Lords and holds a high position in the government.” Ron’s eyes widened as I spoke. “And I’m the heir of Hellsing. An order of Protestant knights, ever heard of that?”
– I remembered! They were talking about your mother on TV too! There was something about India and some kind of riot! – Weasley slapped himself on the forehead, stared at our stunned faces and became embarrassed again. – What?
“Do you know what a television is?” Hermione looked up from the chessboard. “You’re supposedly a pureblood, aren’t you? Your family is part of the ‘Sacred 28’! Or are these other Weasleys?”
“Don’t think that all purebloods are stuck up or shun anything Muggle.” Ron scowled. “My dad’s older brother is a Squib, they get along well, and we often visit Uncle Joshua. Because of that, they’ve been trying to remove us from the list for forty years now, and they even came up with an offensive nickname. They’re such noble snobs.”
“Is everyone against you because you have a Squib in your family?” I looked at the guy with interest.
– Not all, but many. – Weasley saw the interest in our eyes and began to tell. – In pureblood families, it is not customary to keep Squibs, it is believed that they steal magic and that they are a shame to the family. Dad says that this is complete nonsense. So, when Dad’s parents found out that their eldest son was a Squib, they did not abandon him, on the contrary, they made some kind of Domkent and sent him to a Muggle school, and then to this, what’s it called, u-ni-vir-si-te-tu, of course! Uncle Joshua now lives in London and works as some kind of bra maker, so it was at his place that I learned about the TV and telephone. Ginny also asked Dad to install a TV in the Burrow so that we could watch cartoons at home, but he says the box won’t work here, he needs Lippysdryism, that’s it.
– Why are you telling us all this so simply? – I tilted my head to the side.
“Better me than anyone else. The magical world is small, everyone knows each other.” The guy shrugged. “And you seem like normal guys, you don’t call me names, you even helped me with the robe.”
“Makes sense,” Justin nodded and turned to the chessboard. “Checkmate.”
– Fuck! Again! How are you doing this? – Mia was so comically angry that I couldn’t stand it, hugged her and started squeezing her. – Riya, stop! I’ll break your finger now, you’ll have to fix it yourself!
Justin had gotten used to our quirks, and Ron was gaping at us. Yeah, the groping had smoothly turned into wrestling. In the end, that brat managed to break my pinky, and I dislocated her shoulder. We broke apart, flushed and smiling, and while Mia was popping the joint back into place, I pulled out my wand. A perfect spell, and with a snap, my finger snapped back into place. We’ve become so accustomed to pain over the years that we don’t pay attention to such trifles.
“Psychos…” Justin shook his head and began placing pieces on the board.
– Yeeeeaa …
He’d forgotten about the ink on the top of his head, which he’d dipped his hand into. Weasley pulled a white handkerchief from his inside pocket. It turned out to be enchanted, as it removed the dirt in a jiffy. He wiped his hands, then his head, and pulled out his wand. It was old and battered, with white hair sticking out of the tip.
– Evanesco! – He pointed his wand at the dirty handkerchief. Poof! The rag, like a xenomorph larva, stuck to Ron’s face. – Again! Stupid piece of wood.
I was the closest and helped peel the vile xenos off his face, yeah… Now he looks like Friday from Robinson Crusoe. I handed him my handkerchief with a smile; pointing a wand at someone without asking is bad form.
“Thank you.” Ron wiped himself again, looked like a white man, and handed me back the handkerchief, then began making excuses. “It’s my older brother’s wand, it doesn’t suit me well. Dad’s bonus was delayed last month, so I’ll have to use this one for now.”
“Do you have many brothers? Do they all go to Hogwarts?” Mia lost a game of chess and decided to begin interrogating our new acquaintance.
“Only three, the two oldest ones, Bill and Charlie, have already finished.” Ginger looked embarrassed under her pressure. “Percy’s in his fifth year now, he’s been made Head Boy. He’s been walking around so important all month, he’s practically scratching the ceiling with his nose. Then there’s Fred and George, they’re in their third year, but that…”
The guy leaned forward, as if to attract our attention, and after making sure that we were listening to him attentively, he continued:
– Just don’t take anything from them, and especially don’t try it. They dream of opening their own joke shop, but they’re terrible at it, their jokes are really offensive. – Ron sniffled, clearly remembering something. – And in the spring they did something really bad, Dumbledore himself came to see us! Ginny and I were herded into our rooms then, but I still heard the headmaster yelling at our parents… He swore! I’ve never seen him so angry, and he sometimes comes to visit us, he likes Mum’s lemon pudding. And when the brothers came home from school, Dad spanked them, until they bled, can you imagine? Then their parents searched the twins’ things and their room, and burned a lot of things in the yard. Fred and George sat in their room all summer and hardly spoke to anyone.
– Don’t you know what they did? – Ron became embarrassed under my gaze.
“Nah, no one told me anything, only my mum said they went too far this time, like there wouldn’t be a second chance.” Weasley spread his hands, looked at Justin and decided to change the unpleasant topic. “Wow! You like chess too?”
“Let’s play!” Justin grinned, and Hermione switched places with the redhead and sat opposite me.
– Knight to E5! – Ron stared at the board expectantly. – Why aren’t they moving?
– Should we? – Finch-Fletchley didn’t understand the question. – It’s just chess.
– Merlin! – Weasley slapped himself on the forehead. – Mate, let’s play with mine? They’re magical! They were my mum’s dowry, and then she gave them to me!
Without waiting for an answer, the boy jumped up and, with a groan, lowered his trunk, threw back the lid, and carefully pulled out a large, painted mahogany box. By that time, Justin had put his chess set back in his briefcase, and Ron had placed his on the table.
Wizarding chess is actually quite a fun game. Ron’s chess box transformed into a large game board, and the pieces took their places themselves, even greeting the players with a bow. And watching these little soldiers crush each other to smithereens was quite entertaining. We were especially amused by the boys’ serious expressions: Weasley turned out to be an excellent player, and it looked like our “Kasparov” had met his match. The two boys, red-faced, sat facing each other, furrowing their brows, and each move took them at least ten minutes. Hermione and I quickly grew bored with this “confrontation,” and, nodding to each other, we pulled out our books.
Several hours passed like this: the boys played chess, and my friend and I read books. Vasya and Flora, ignored by Ron, dozed on the couch. Everything was quiet and peaceful until lunchtime. I heard a loud croaking sound, and an aquarium with a large toad flew past our window, crashing with a pitiful clang. It seemed Trevor had escaped after all, or at least had been helped. Boyish laughter echoed in the hallway.
“Nev, why are we looking for this stupid toad?” a rather loud boyish voice asked our invisible interlocutor.
– Harry, you know my grandmother, right? – This one’s more rude. – She can sense lies, but it turns out I didn’t see where Nott put Trevor, and I honestly went looking for him. And I won’t have to lie to my grandmother, and there will be no punishment.
“Head.” The ringing voice drawled again, with noticeable admiration. “My godfather never punished me, and he forbade everyone in the house from doing so! I sympathize with you, friend.”
“Oh, come on, my mom only spanked me a couple of times,” a third voice with a strange accent chimed in.
We occupied the farthest compartment, while the boys seemed to have decided to stroll from the front of the car. A colorful trio stood at the door of our abode. My brother was first; he had removed his robe and was now sporting a black three-piece suit with a white shirt, clearly expensive and custom-made. Next to him stood a tall, stocky man with a short, buzzed black haircut and an athletic bearing, and last was a curly-haired boy of Armenian appearance, with a unibrow and a large nose.
Potter immediately glanced at us and, seeing Weasley, grinned maliciously.
“So, Weasel, have you found yourself some rich friends yet?” Harry turned to us. “Ladies, if I were you, I’d check your pockets; you can expect anything from poor, red-haired Muggle-lovers.”
After these words, the boys behind him burst into laughter, and Ron turned as red as a boiled lobster, lowered his head and clenched his fists.
“Oh, excuse me, where are my manners?” His brother straightened his back dramatically and raised his head: “My friends: Neville Longbottom and Blaise Zabini. And my name is Harry Potter, the one and only vanquisher of the Dark Lord! You may love me and favor me!”
“Rigel Hellsing.” I lowered the book and looked into bright green eyes that matched mine. I had to turn on Occlumency to the max. How many times had I imagined our meeting, how many times had I dreamed of hugging him, how many things I wanted to tell him… And what do I see before me? An insolent, spoiled, and arrogant rich kid who insults another boy just because he can’t afford an expensive robe. It seems Sirius has raised a little version of himself. “My friends are Hermione Granger and Justin Finch-Fletchley. I assume you know Ron Weasley.”
My brother continued to look me in the eye, and all the arrogance began to evaporate from him, leaving a sea of emotions on his face: first surprise, then recognition, then anger and resentment. The empathy literally began to drive me crazy with this cocktail. My brother nodded to himself and looked at me with a certain superiority, then smirked and was about to say something, but he was cut off.
Neville pushed Harry away and, his jaw muscles twitching angrily, charged at me. His large fists were clenched tightly, and his nostrils flared with rage. Where did all this emotion come from? What did I ever do to him? Boy, I’m seeing you for the first time in my life.
– What did you say your last name was? – The boy towered over me and stared at me demandingly.
– Anyone have hearing problems? – Bitch, you ruined the whole meeting! Maybe Harry and I would hug right now and start singing and dancing to Indian music! I think the Pattil sisters are in the next compartment; they would be hired as backup dancers. And then, to the same music, we would all go off in a friendly and cheerful crowd to kill the evil rajah who separated us as children. Kid, one more word and I’ll swap your head and ass.
“Answer me when the heir of an ancient family asks you!” Longbottom growled, drooling. “You look like one psychotic bitch! Speak up, creature!”
My brother and the Armenian girl stared at their friend in bewilderment, and then Harry looked at me with a different expression, and understanding dawned on his face. My friends braced themselves, Hermione shifted her stance slightly for a lunge, and Justin and Ron rose slightly, ready to defend the girls.
“Last chance. Now you apologize and get out of our compartment.” I glared at this boar. “Otherwise you’ll be in a lot of pain.”
“Try it.” Neville grinned insolently and grabbed my shoulder. “How I hate it when strangers touch me!”
I quickly grabbed his hand and, spinning, dropped to one knee so that my back was to him, his elbow right on my shoulder, palm facing the ceiling. I slammed the “lever” down with all my strength. There was a crunching and cracking sound, and the kid started screaming in pain, but I spun around and, without a swing, kicked him in the groin. Neville, wheezing in pain, doubled over, and I jumped up and took a step back, finding enough room. A sharp kick to his wheezing face from below, showing everyone my perfect form. The little locker flew backwards, unconscious, his friends barely managed to jump out of the way, and to top it all off, he slammed his head into the wooden wall paneling of the hallway. His face was covered in blood, his nose was twisted to the side, and his right arm was bent at an unnatural angle. My perception of the world returned to normal, I looked at the stunned boys, the whole thing took me a few seconds. I felt better; I don’t like rude men.
– Should I repeat my last name to anyone else? – I turned to the others.
“No need, you shouldn’t have done that.” Potter glared at me and turned to his unconscious friend. After thinking for a moment, he walked around Longbottom, grabbed him by the leg to drag him back to the compartment, and looked demandingly at his third comrade.
“I’m going for the headman! That madwoman attacked the purebred heir!” The Armenian ran quickly toward the lead carriage with a loud stomp.
Harry saw someone ahead and sighed sadly. Neville’s unconscious foot landed on the floor with a loud thud.
“Well, well, well, Potty, you haven’t even made it to school yet, and you’re already in trouble?” We heard a thin, girlish voice, clearly mocking. “Honestly, I’m not surprised. Vega and Cassiopeia often complain about you.”
“Shut up, Malfoy! This time it wasn’t me, it was Neville who felt like he’d been stung by a manticore.” Potter glared at his interlocutor and pointed his wand at his friend, who was currently in dreamland.
“What a surprise!” the girl feigned surprise. “Where’s the hero who put that bag of dragon dung back in its place? I like him better this way.”
“He’s actually my friend!” Harry pointed his wand at his interlocutor. “Insult him again and you’ll regret it!”
“And he’s also an idiot, a boor, and a loser.” The bitchy girl didn’t heed the threats. “At the last reception, that troll had the nerve to threaten me, and he insulted Vega, too. You should choose your friends better, brother.”
“As my godfather says, you girls are only good for one thing!” A nasty grin appeared on Potter’s face; he was clearly copying someone.
“Hello, Dora! What are you doing here?” The girl asked in surprise at someone behind her brother, to which Harry spun around and began to look out fearfully for someone.
– Ha-ha-ha! – The train corridor rang with cheerful girls’ laughter, echoed by a couple of boys’. – And little Potty is such a coward!
“Go to the Dementor, Malfoy!” My brother muttered resentfully to his interlocutor, cast a thoughtful glance at me, and, this time grabbing his friend by the uninjured arm, dragged him toward his compartment.
As soon as Potter left, a very beautiful girl appeared in the doorway: long-haired blonde in a dark green robe, with almost silver eyes that looked quite captivating against her pale, aristocratic face. She looked like an elf from The Lord of the Rings, with pointy ears if only she’d had them—the spitting image of Electric Drill, or whatever her name was. Behind our guest were two lockers about my height, which meant a head taller than the others, and quite stocky. My eye twitched. Malfoy’s not real! What the hell?!
– Good afternoon everyone! My name is Diana Malfoy. – The girl nodded politely. – My friends are with me: Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Who should I thank for showing Longbottom his place?
“Probably me. Rigel Hellsing, and my friends.” I was the only one standing in our compartment and, turning sideways, began introducing those present. Oh, these English quirks. “Hermione Granger, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Ron Weasley.”
“Nice to meet you. Hellsing, then. Well, well.” Malfoy nodded to herself and began to examine me carefully. “Father warned me that the heir to a line of renegades, murderers, and loyal dogs of the Crown is entering school this year.”
– Do you have something against the Order of Protestant Knights? – I was already starting to figure out who from her retinue to knock out first.
“Not at all. As Father says, you are the pole of power that brings stability to our world. And as for you and your friends…” Diana shrugged and dramatically spread her hands. “You’ll finish five years of school and leave the magical world, so why fight? Our family has long since abandoned the militant way; we’re used to negotiating and resolving issues at the negotiating table. So I propose peace; friendship is unlikely to work out between us.”
“A bad peace is better than a good war, I agree.” I smiled and nodded at the girl. “I’m telling you, Malfoy isn’t real.”
“Okay, then.” The blonde nodded contentedly and looked me in the eye. “Hellsing, a little advice. Don’t relax at Hogwarts; there will be idiots among the students who will decide to take revenge on you for the deeds of your ancestors, and no one is safe from Avada in the back.”
– Where does all this concern come from? – I tilted my head to the side.
“I don’t want to study abroad, and after your death, there probably won’t be anything left of the castle.” Malfoy sighed dramatically. “I have a good idea of your order’s resources and capabilities, and many do too. But… The world is full of idiots.”
“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” I nod understandingly to Diana.
– She’s there! In the last compartment! That mad bitch is there! – We heard a screaming Armenian and the clatter of several feet. – She attacked and almost killed Longbottom!
“Zabini, you should have your mouth washed out with soap for saying that.” Malfoy grimaced in disgust. “I’m more than sure it was self-defense.”
The lockers slid aside, revealing a tall, red-haired guy in a red tie and a petite, brown-haired woman in a green tie. Both had class monitor badges gleaming on their chests.
“My name is Gemma Farley, I’m the Slytherin prefect, and this is Percy Weasley, he’s the Gryffindor prefect.” The girl addressed us all. “Explain to me what happened here, and where is the injured Longbottom?”
“I think the Hellsing heiress will explain everything to everyone,” Diana watched with a wry smile as the elders paled upon hearing my last name. “As far as I remember, lying is not accepted in the Order of Protestant Knights.”
– Percy! It was self-defense, I saw it with my own eyes! – Ron decided to stand up for me. – Longbottom went crazy and grabbed Hellsing. She only hit him twice, he fell and hit his head. Honestly!
– Is that how it all happened? – Head Boy Weasley looked at us carefully, and we nodded in unison in response.
“Young idiots.” Farley rolled her eyes and looked demandingly at the Armenian informer. “Which compartment is your friend in?”
“But… She attacked a pureblood heir! We need to call the Aurors and the DMP!” Monobrow stamped his foot in indignation.
“She’s an heir too, idiot. What were you listening to?!” The Slytherin prefect poked the boy in the chest. “Her family is several times older than yours and the Longbottoms combined, so she has every right to be. Now show us your crippled friend.”
Zabini scowled and led the prefects to his compartment. Malfoy watched the whole thing with a smug, satisfied cat’s smile, which infuriated everyone present. And I stood there, realizing that these noble heirs had completely lost their minds. So they can bully others, but as soon as they get beat up, they immediately start calling for their mother. Oh well, we’ll rehabilitate them, but if my brother starts a gang of new Marauders, it’ll be worse for them.
“It was nice to meet you, Hellsing.” Diana watched the departing prefects and nodded to us. “See you at the Sorting! Come on, boys, I can’t miss the chance to treat this oaf. I hope Farley screws something up and twists Logbottom so tightly that St. Mungo’s won’t be able to unravel it.”
When everyone had left, I closed the door with a gesture and sank tiredly onto the soft sofa. Vasya immediately laid his head on my thigh, and I automatically began stroking him, calming him down.
– It’s… Hellsing. – Ron drew attention to himself. – You really gave that rude guy a good beating! Will you teach him?
“Long years of grueling and very painful training,” Hermione answered for me.
– Okay, then no need. – Weasley thought for a moment. – Guys, I get it, let’s be friends?
The three of us locked eyes with the red-haired boy; he looked a little embarrassed, but stood up and dramatically adjusted his robe.
– What are you looking at me like that? I don’t want to lie around like that jerk, so I’d rather be friends with you! – Then his stomach growled demandingly. – And anyway, let’s eat! Mom packed me a lot of turkey sandwiches, they’re delicious.
Hermione was the first to break down and burst into laughter, and then everyone else joined in. After we’d finished laughing, we began to get out our food supplies and set up the buffet. Mrs. Weasley’s sandwiches were indeed delicious and safe, I checked. Ron merely chuckled at my actions, but said nothing and continued gobbling down a hot dog with mustard from Justin’s stash.
We hadn’t even finished eating when the food trolley arrived, and we decided to try some magical sweets. So Justin and I grabbed a little bit of everything. I liked the cauldron buns; they were quite tasty. And when I finally caught and tried the chocolate frog, I almost threw up—the bastard kept wiggling his legs in my mouth and even in my esophagus! I didn’t even try the Bertie Botts; I remember in the film, Dumbledore got the earwax-flavored one, disgusting. Finch-Fletchley was a little lucky; he got the dirty sock-flavored one. Ron started laughing, and our friend started spitting.
“I wonder who tastes these sweets?” Hermione looked thoughtfully at the little jelly beans. “How do they know, for example, what pus tastes like?”
“Let’s not talk about this, please.” Justin just spat, drank the glass of juice in one gulp and reached for another candy. “I’ll risk it again. Hey!”
Flora swooped down like a Junkers, snatched the jellybean from the boy’s hand, and landed on Hermione’s shoulder, laughing merrily. The fairy showed off her catch to her mistress and began gnawing on it with a satisfied grin. Weasley merely shrugged and tossed a handful of cockroach nuts into his mouth. They’re, damn it, fried cockroaches shaped like peanuts! The movies weren’t wrong about that, Ron’s an omnivore, he eats carefully, but he eats everything and a lot! I’ll have to give him some Decaris (author’s note: a deworming medicine)—I’ll throw a couple of pills in his juice, he won’t even notice.
” Mistress, we can’t feed this redhead .” Vasya had slept and decided to speak out.
” Shut up, we’ll talk later. ” I quietly hissed at the snake and almost got caught in front of the Weasleys. For some reason, wizards in Britain are afraid of Parselmouths, so Ron looked at me suspiciously.
– You, uh… Can you talk to snakes? – And he points his finger at Vasily, who was pretending to be a hose. – Did I imagine it or were you hissing at him?
“It was Polish,” I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Vasya was brought from Europe, he knows a couple of commands in his native language, and Polish has a lot of hissing sounds. Pshe kurva there, pshe Ceausescu. Something like that.”
“I see, it’s a funny language. I’ll write to Charlie later, he works at the Romanian National Park. That’s also Europe, after all.” Ryzhik nodded contentedly, and I decided to order a Polish-English phrasebook from my mom. Just in case.
” And for that whore, I’ll shit in your shoe. ” Vasya raised his head and hissed discontentedly, but seeing my promising look, he feigned sleep again.
The boys spent the rest of the journey playing chess, and the girls reading. During breaks, we discussed Hogwarts Houses. Ron was pushing everyone into Gryffindor, since Dumbledore himself had been there! Hufflepuff, he said, wasn’t bad either; their common room was closest to the dining hall, and the kitchen was just a stone’s throw away. Ravenclaw was the only one with nerds; it was boring, but the mention of Slytherin made Ron’s ass burn. He hadn’t even been in yet, and he already hated all “filthy slugs.” I wonder if he’s the only one like that? Personally, I don’t care where I end up, as long as I’m with ‘Mione, or I’ll throw a blessed grenade with a white phosphorus core into the hat. Let him try to separate us, the wimp. And so the time flew by until evening, when the loudspeakers announced that we were only half an hour away from arriving in Hogsmeade.
***
The station looked lovely, even beautiful. The small two-story building housing the station and ticket office was built of stone in the style of the last century. The platform was lined with comfortable benches, all illuminated by gas lamps. We were the first to exit the train, as our compartment was closest to the exit, and we turned our heads. It felt like this train had transported us back in time: quiet, clean, beautiful, and most importantly, the air—that’s how laundry detergent and toilet air freshener should smell! The clean mountain air was simply wonderful. That alone was worth the trip.
The platform grew crowded, with crowds of students pouring out of the adjacent carriages. Some were laughing, others were hugging each other, in friendly and less-than-friendly ways, and one boy was even thrown out of the carriage like a cannonball. All this was accompanied by loud laughter, but the unfortunate man, after falling ten meters, collapsed and fell silent, the others couldn’t care less. This entire noisy crowd left the platform along a wide, cobbled path. The last to leave the carriages were the prefects, levitating several unconscious bodies: three boys with bloodied faces and twisted limbs, and a girl with a cut robe and a torn skirt. The magical mood instantly vanished; it seemed someone had had a fun trip. Incidentally, the flyer was quickly found and his body was added to the others.
“First-years! First-years! Everyone here!” a loud bass voice boomed through the area. I turned around and saw a huge, bearded man, three meters tall, wearing a rough brown leather coat. He held a large flashlight in one paw and beckoned us with the other. My sick imagination immediately imagined him in Kevlar armor reinforced with titanium plates, a KPV in each hand. He could replace an infantry fighting vehicle! I wonder if there are many like him in the wizarding world? He looked smaller in the movies, but now I can see him calmly wandering through the forbidden forest. This big guy could tear a werewolf apart with his bare hands!
“Don’t be afraid, it’s Hagrid, he’s kind.” Weasley was the first to move towards the giant, and we followed him, with the rest of us falling in behind.
“It’s hard to believe,” Justin said, looking warily at the key keeper.
“He just looks like that,” Ron turned to us. “He’s half-giant, his father is a common wizard, and his mother is a giantess.”
I looked at Hagrid again and thought. Oh really? How the fuck did his dad manage to screw a giantess? From what I know from books and textbooks, giants are cannibals and only have a gastronomic interest in people. Did he screw her while she was sleeping? And most importantly, with what? Did he get all inside her? It was like a snu-snu.
“Is everyone here? Have you forgotten anyone?” The same loud bass voice brought me out of my thoughts. I looked at the half-giant, who tried to count us, but seemed to have lost his head. He waved his hand and headed toward a narrow path leading into the forest. “Everyone, follow me! If anyone falls behind or gets lost, we won’t look for them until tomorrow!”
The path was narrow and very dark, the treetops completely blocking out the starry sky. The gamekeeper walked ahead, holding a lantern over his head, followed by Ron and Justin, then Hermione and I, and the rest of the crowd of children trotted along behind us. After tripping for the third time, I couldn’t take it anymore and pulled out my wand.
“They could have at least hung a lantern, the bastards. Lumos!” My friend followed my example, and immediately it became much brighter and much more comfortable. Behind me, I heard disgruntled muttering, and soon almost everyone was holding a ball of light above their heads.
“Turn off the lights! You’ll see Hogwarts now!” the half-giant commanded as we neared the edge of the forest tunnel, surrounded by the splashing water.
Beautiful, the view truly was stunning. We were standing on the shore of Black Lake, and on the other side, on the cliffs, rose a huge and rather formidable castle, bristling with a cluster of turrets and battlements. Almost every window glowed with a steady yellow light. I tilted my head and thought, if only we could add some modern lighting here—it would be absolutely gorgeous!
“Four people in one boat! You… You… Don’t worry, they can hold me, but I, you know, will definitely be heavier.” Hagrid reassured me, because I didn’t trust these tubs made of dried-out wood. It’s only thanks to magic that they haven’t fallen apart yet!
But there was nothing else to do, so the four of us climbed into the rocking boat. My brother’s gang had settled in the next one. Seeing me, he flashed his glasses and turned away. Neville sat with a semblance of a splint on his arm, glaring at me. “Oh my god, they hurt the little guy, they really did him in. Next time I’ll break both your arms, you little shit.”
Once everyone was seated, our giant climbed into the craft. The boat beneath him creaked sadly and sank far below the waterline. How much did he weigh? Naturally, his boat went first, and we followed, while I continued to hypnotize Hagrid’s back. I wondered if he’d be offended if I asked him point-blank how his dad could do such a thing.
– Rhea, what’s wrong? You can’t take your eyes off Hagrid, what happened? – Hermione tugged at my sleeve.
– Mia, tell me, what is the average height of a human and a giant? – I turned to my friend.
– Um… If we take a European, then 170 centimeters, and giants have an average height of 6 meters, leaders and large males grow up to 8, so what?
– Look at Hagrid, how about that? We were learning Sergei’s last spell, remember the average size.
“Vulgar girl,” Hermione whispered, blushing deeply.
“So, I’m asking you, strictly from a scientific point of view, what kind of device is needed to satisfy a six-meter woman?” The guys ignored our whispers, admiring the castle.
“Maybe he enlarged it with a spell?” Her friend put her finger to her lip and thought. “But how could he move then? It would have to be at least 60 centimeters, and that’s already a third leg. Maybe there’s something about that in the Hogwarts library?”
– Of course there is! – I threw up my hands. – And it’s called “How to Fuck a Giantess. Pick-up Secrets for Beginners.”
Hermione couldn’t help but burst into laughter, and I joined in. The boys looked at us, shrugged, and then turned back to the towering castle; we were almost there.
“Duck!” the big guy roared, and some even listened. We swam into a spacious cave beneath the castle, but the entrance was a bit low—just two meters—so the gamekeeper barked out of habit. After climbing out of the boats, we climbed up the old stone stairs, damp with water, and soon found ourselves on the surface, at the castle gates. Hagrid approached them and began pounding them with his fist. There was a dry click, the door swung silently open, and McCat appeared, her face stern.
– Professor McGonagall, I… That’s it… I brought everyone, yes. – The half-giant pointed his paw at us.
“Hagrid, have you counted everyone? Is the number of children on the platform the same now?” The woman looked demandingly at the big guy.
– Yes, that’s it… This… That’s right! There! – The kid lowered his head like a first-grader.
– How many first-year students were on the platform? – And he looks at me like I’m a failing student.
– Well… More than ten, for sure! – And he went to Hogwarts! Either the teachers helped him out a lot, or he went crazy in his forest. The latter seems more likely to me; judging by the amber, he’s never sober.
“Thank you, Hagrid, I’ll take them.” The professor pursed her lips in displeasure and, turning on the spot, headed back. “Everyone, follow me!”
After about five minutes of wandering through dark stone corridors, lit only by torches, we found ourselves in a spacious, equally dark hall. It was closed off by a massive door in the far wall, from behind which came the murmur of many voices. Most of the children began to turn their heads, studying the new place, but I was already evenly matched. I was wondering how I could persuade the hat to send me to Hermione.
“I’ll be back soon, and in the meantime, you guys should get yourself together.” I was so lost in thought that I missed McGonagall’s speech, but who cares. The door opened slightly, swallowing the professor.
A hubbub erupted in the hall: someone was arguing about departments, a few boys were debating how the assignments would work, and a few girls retreated to the wall. We stood like that for about ten minutes, and then the door opened completely, nearly deafening us with the roar of hundreds of hungry throats and confusing us with the host of faces staring greedily in our direction. The professor quickly lined us up, and like chicks, we followed our mother hen.
The hall was quite large and bright, with thousands of candles hovering overhead, and the ceiling with its holographic night sky only added to the grandeur of the place. The enormous stained-glass windows were also impressive; the ancient builders had done a wonderful job.
Four long, now empty tables lined the hall, with several hundred children and teenagers sitting on benches around them, eyeing us with interest. Perpendicular to the student tables, on a raised platform, was the professor’s desk, with Dumbledore seated on a golden throne in the center. Maybe he has some kind of complex?
So, I barely recognize anyone. And where’s the purple turban? To the headmaster’s left sat a big-nosed figure who didn’t look like Rickman, but looked a lot like a loser! The seat to Dumbledore’s right was empty; his deputy would probably be there. Ah, I see Flitwick, the unmistakable little man, and next to him sits a plump woman with ash-blond hair, most likely Pomona Sprout. I don’t know the others. Oh well, we’ll meet later.
Silence fell in the hall; we lined up along the staff table, staring at the stool on which sat an old, dusty, pointed hat. A minute later, it revealed pits to the underworld, serving as its mouth and eyes. Lucifer’s infernal creation stirred and began to sing. Apparently, this is how they torture sinners in one of the circles of hell. Fuck, this rag was howling in a vile, old voice and spouting nonsense! Hermione grabbed my hand in horror, and Justin lowered his head and began muttering a prayer. Ron alone didn’t give a shit; he simply grinned stupidly. When this torture was finally over, McGonagall approached the fiend with a long list of sinners —ahem, future students.
“When I call your name, you come out and sit on the stool!” The professor, currently serving as Charon’s assistant, unrolled a scroll of parchment.
– Abbott, Hannah! – A light-red-haired girl with a round face jumped forward.
“Hufflepuff!” the hat screamed loudly after sitting on the girl’s head for a couple of minutes. Hannah’s tie turned yellow, and the hall thundered with applause, especially loud at the Badger table. Abbott immediately descended and took her place at her house table.
– Bones, Susan! – A pretty girl with wheat-colored hair and a silk robe sat down on a stool.
“Hufflepuff!” Another round of applause, the girl runs to her desk. “And I started looking at and memorizing the teachers, then I’ll learn their names and make a card index.”
– Booth, Terry!
– Ravenclaw! – More applause.
“Finch-Fletchley, Justin!” I squeezed my friend’s hand tighter and watched the boy go. “In the movie, he ended up with the badgers. If that’s the case, then we can persuade the hat too. We need to stick together.”
“Gryffindor!” the hat yelled a couple of minutes later, and the Lions’ Table erupted in shouts, catcalls, and applause. “Looks like Mia and I are headed to the House of Tough Guys, too.”
“Granger, Hermione!” McCat grimaced with distaste when she mentioned my friend’s last name. “Well, we’ll remember, bitch.”
“Gryffindor!” Was it my imagination, or did the hat shout louder? Mia sat down next to Justin with a goofy grin, and soon it would be my turn. While I was exchanging glances with my friends, several more students passed the stool, and finally, the moment of truth arrived.
“Hellsing, Rigel!” A deathly silence fell over the room, and everyone present stared at me. So, remembering etiquette lessons: a straight back, a stately gait, chin up, and a maximally haughty face. In complete silence, my heels clicking, I slowly and calmly climbed the dais and approached the stool. Calmly turning around and, with a flourish of my robe, I sat proudly, but out of the corner of my eye I kept an eye on the professor’s irritated expression. Excellent. I am the heir to the Hellsing line, know that! The hat was lowered over my eyes.
– Helga’s saggy tits and Godric’s sweaty balls! Girl! – I almost went deaf from the old man’s creaky scream. – What the fuck is going on in your head! In our time, people like that would be sent out into the cold on a winter’s night!
– Um… Hello. – I tried to raise all the occlumency shields and couldn’t. Holy shit, this old rag can read my mind! What if she tells anyone? Where are my grenades stashed…
“I’ve seen better.” The hat creaked. “And shove your toys up your ass. The threat hasn’t grown up yet, it scared Godric with the clap! I won’t be able to tell anyone anyway, and no one gives a damn what’s in those brats’ heads.”
“Then send me to my friend, please.” “Let’s not be rude to an ancient artifact. I wonder if it will burn in a blast furnace?”
“Fucking hell, is it written with or without the soft sign? Okay, don’t bother me, I have to work!” I felt a slight tickle under the vault of my skull. “Hmm… Remembers a past life… Grabbed a lot of shit… Already killed… Will kill again… A difficult case, the only one more difficult was Salazar, who spent a week standing up and developing an ointment for hemorrhoids…”
“I want to go to my friend’s! What’s so hard?” I interrupted the hat’s thoughts.
“Complex ones—the spells of a fucked-up nymphomaniac who called herself Rowena in public, but demanded to be called Mistress at night.” A grumpy, elderly voice answered. “Badgers won’t do for you; you need soldiers, not friends. Fuck the crows, you’ll still summon an archdemon or perfect a magical plague, your sick imagination is enough… So what am I supposed to do with you?”
– Gryffindor, please. – Let’s be polite, this artifact is clearly sentient.
– I’d send you to Azkaban, but I can’t… Hm… – The Hat thought. – You thirst for power and revenge, there was a boy like that recently… I’ll send you to Slytherin, there you’ll get your lollipop sword and a lesbian princess to boot!
– What? I’ll kill those rich fascists! – I almost choked with indignation.
“Just kidding! You’re hot-tempered, cruel, and to achieve your revenge, you’ll kill or torture anyone who gets in your way without a second thought…” The ancient artifact sighed heavily. “Godric would have been proud of you; he was quite the bloodthirsty psychopath. That’s why…”
“GRYFFINDOR!” I nearly lost my hearing from the Sorting Hat’s shriek and pulled its head off. The Great Hall remained deathly silent, and I looked at McGonagall, who had suddenly turned pale and sad, and grinned predatorily. Several teachers’ eyes twitched, and one of them, a man with a prosthetic arm, greedily sucked on his flask.
Suddenly, a solitary burst of applause rang out in the hall. Hermione and Justin rose to their feet and clapped, joined by Ron, and then the rest of the Gryffindor students, joined by the entire Hufflepuff and most of the Ravenclaws. Only the Slytherins sat stony-faced and sad-eyed. I slowly and majestically walked down to the table of my now-house and took a seat next to my friends. I wonder where Potter will be sorted?
