Chapter 32
Settling myself at the table between Hermione and Justin, I continued to watch the sorting. The Gryffindors glanced at me sideways, but didn’t bother to talk or greet me. Three in particular interested me: Potter, Longbottom, and Malfoy. The latter, incidentally, also clapped for me with a sly smile.
When it was Neville’s turn, he rose to the stool with as much dignity as his broken arm allowed. Longbottom didn’t sit there for long; about a minute later, the hat screamed:
– Gryffindor!
The named house burst into cheers and applause. Neville removed his hat and looked at our table. I met his gaze and, grinning contentedly, winked. Little Longbottom was descending at that moment, but a nervous tic struck him, causing him to trip and tumble head over heels. Amid laughter and catcalls, Longbottom stood up and hurried to the table. To the end farthest from me. Am I really that scary?
Next up was Electric Drill, ahem… Diana Malfoy, who walked proudly, almost flying, up to the stool and landed neatly on it.
“Slytherin!” the hat screamed as soon as it touched her head. My friends and I applauded the girl; the other vultures clapped less vigorously. Diana descended smoothly and settled at her desk next to a black-haired, blue-eyed almost-girl and a red-maned beauty. Apparently, they were the daughter of Sirius and Nymphadora Tonks.
As I studied the Slytherin table, I felt someone’s gaze on me. It turned out to be the red-haired queen of the Snake House staring at me. How else could one explain her commanding demeanor and the fact that she was sitting in the center of the table? Suddenly, she blinked, her eyes turning bright green and her hair jet black. The Slytherin smiled with just the corners of her lips and nodded in greeting, and I nodded back. At that moment, Mia nudged me with her elbow and pointed at Potter, who was watching Nymphadora with his mouth open. The boy took another look at his relative, who had returned to her normal appearance, winced, and glanced at Neville, who was smiling at his friend.
“Potter! Harry!” McGonagall shouted, and silence fell over the hall once more. Upon hearing his name, my brother straightened his shoulders, smiled contentedly, and walked leisurely, stately toward the hat. Whispers, finger-pointing, and looks of adoration and admiration followed his path from the tables. Harry was a true star of the Wizarding World, and he genuinely enjoyed it. I glanced at the trio of Slytherins, who were looking at Potter with a certain disgust and disapproval. It turns out that not everything is so rosy in the Black family.
Finally, the brother walked up to the stool, sat down on it, his nose in the air, and his hat covered him right up to his eyebrows.
“Gryffindor!” the fiend screamed after five minutes of silence. The Slytherins looked disappointed, but our table literally exploded with shouts and applause. A couple of the older boys even jumped on the table and started dancing, and when Potter approached the table, he was practically torn to pieces by excited fans. Everyone considered it their duty to touch their chosen one, hug him, or pat him on the shoulder. In short, my brother arrived at Longbottom’s, rumpled and disheveled, his glasses askew and a happy, beaming smile on his lipstick-smeared face. Judging by the hungry and admiring glances of some of the older girls, Potter would be asked for an autograph in the common room, and if he were older… He’s a good-looking guy, he’ll grow up to be a real beauty, and given his fame, he’ll have no shortage of fans.
The sorting didn’t resume for another fifteen minutes, and our table still refused to settle down. McGonagall had to cast Silencio on the most unruly ones. While the remaining children were being sorted into Houses, I studied our table. I found the Weasley twins, sitting at the very edge, their heads down, their unruly heads, pointedly ignored by the House. What on earth had they done last year? I also looked over my year: Brown—a typical blonde, looking at everyone with a silly smile; next to her stood one of the Patils, Parvati, I think—I’ll check later. The sorting ceremony had thrown us two more guys: a curly-haired black boy named Dean Thomas and a freckled, brown-haired Seamus Finnigan. Oh, and there was another dark-haired, downtrodden girl named Smith, Elvira, I think.
“Weasley! Ronald!” McGonagall shouted the redhead’s name, and he practically flew onto the dais with a satisfied smile.
“Gryffindor!” The hat barely touched his head. The boy quickly threw off the “founders’ legacy” and headed toward our table.
“Guys, excuse me, but I’m going to see my brothers.” Ron patted Justin on the shoulder and pointed at the twins. “They seem really upset, maybe I can shake them up.”
The last on the list was the Armenian snitch, and the hat placed him in Slytherin. On his way to the table, Zabini smiled and waved at Potter, who waved back.
When everyone had settled into their seats and calmed down somewhat, a bearded old man rose from his throne-like chair. Dumbledore beamed with an imbecilic smile and, spreading his arms, looked around at us all with a satisfied expression.
– Welcome to Hogwarts! – He said, still smiling. – Welcome! Before we begin the celebratory banquet, I must say a few words! Blockhead! Bubble! Remnant! Catch!
The old man clapped his hands, and the tables filled with food. There was everything: fried chicken, pork chops, meatloaf, and a whole bunch more. The selection was truly vast, but Hermione and I couldn’t find a single soup or salad, so we exchanged sad glances and began filling our golden plates with less fatty foods. Over the past few years, we’d gotten used to a strict diet; binging at night is generally very unhealthy… Especially since we had to train in the morning, and I’d literally suffered through sweat and blood to maintain my figure.
I helped myself to a baked potato, boiled chicken, and some vegetables. My friend had a similar spread. Justin was already reaching for the roast pork, but he caught my eye, sighed sadly, and chose the same boiled chicken. Because no way! He’s certainly lost some weight over the summer, but he still looks like a hamster when he runs—his cheeks are so jiggly. Our brave sergeants made us promise to get this lout into shape, so let’s start with nutrition.
While we were gorging ourselves, I assessed the arrangements in the various houses: the Slytherins weren’t eating, they were eating with poise and care, making small talk; the ravens were all buried in their books, completely oblivious to what was going on around them. The Huffs were eating to a steady hum, chatting quietly among themselves and chuckling just as quietly; and for us… Yeah, it was absolute chaos at the Lions’ table! A couple of idiots were throwing a gnawed chicken leg, someone was laughing out loud, several couples were already making out and kissing, and some of the Red Banners were trying to get Potter’s attention with their shouts.
I looked sadly at the snake table; it was quiet and peaceful… Maybe I should have gone there? I met the red-haired Black’s gaze again, who gave our table a dramatic once-over and shook her head sadly.
“Do you know Nymphadora Black?” the senior sitting across from me asked. “Eloise Midgen, third year.”
“Rigel Hellsing.” I nodded back. “So her name is Nymphadora Black? And—no, I don’t know her, is she some kind of celebrity?”
“It’s weird, you look so much alike! At first I thought you were her sister! After all, Dora,” the girl rolled her eyes in admiration, “is the most powerful witch in school! She’s also the best fighter; last year she wiped the floor with four boys single-handedly, two of whom even got sent to St. Mungo’s! And she’s a metamorph, she can easily change her appearance. This year she was appointed prefect of the school, I recommend you get to know her; such connections are always useful.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” I nodded thoughtfully. I wonder where Tonks went? Had he ever existed at all? There should be periodicals in the library; Hermione and I should look through the old newspapers. While we’re at it, I’ll find and cut out my obituary, then shove it down the throat of some flea-ridden bastard.
Suddenly, a ghostly figure of a mustachioed man floated out of the table in front of us, trying to say something but failing. Hermione, taken aback, struck the otherworldly head with a consecrated silver cross, which hissed as it passed through the poor fellow. Incidentally, I have a similar cross dangling from my wrist. With a heart-rending screech, the ghost clutched its head and soared toward the ceiling, then, gathering momentum, vanished into the nearest wall.
“Well done.” Her friend thoughtfully watched the blob of ectoplasm pass. “He’ll keep scaring me here. Too bad I can’t put him to rest, he’s bound to the castle… Although… Riya, maybe we should try a few experiments? They’re already dead anyway!”
This was said in complete silence; all the students either stared blankly at the wall into which the ghost had vanished or gaped at Miona in shock. Yes, they were used to the idea that ghosts were invincible, but in vain—these creatures can be dangerous. The remaining ghosts, casting terrified glances at us, began to slowly leave the great hall. A few minutes later, everyone was enjoying dinner again, greatly aided by the dessert that had been served.
I helped myself to some strawberry pudding, Hermione piled chocolate chip ice cream onto hers, and Justin had plenty of everything. Screw you, goldfish, tomorrow we’ll find a running track, and you’ll curse today’s sweets.
When no one could force down any more dessert, the remaining food and plates disappeared from the tables.
“Now that we’ve all had our fill, I’d like to say a few words!” Persivalich rose from his throne again and looked carefully at the students. “I remind you that the Forbidden Forest is called forbidden because students of this school are forbidden to be there, regardless of age! It’s dangerous there, so if you do decide to go there, please be kind enough to leave your last will and testament with the dean.”
Dumbledore looked at some of the students, who were cowering under his gaze.
“Also, at Mr. Filch’s request, I remind you that magic is prohibited in the corridors!” Many chuckled at these words. “Furthermore, Quidditch team tryouts begin in two weeks, so team captains need to submit lists of prospective players to their Heads of House.”
“And one more piece of important news…” The Headmaster waved his hand invitingly, and a tall, dark-haired man, apparently about thirty, rose from his seat. His blue eyes scanned the hall intently. “Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher – Quirinus Quirrell! Please welcome the new professor.”
To thunderous applause, Quirrel half-bowed and took his seat. He moved quite smoothly, immediately marking him as an experienced fighter. This is all so strange… And where’s the turban, for fuck’s sake?
“I also want to please the students,” Dumbledore said, regaining the attention of the assembled group. “This year, after thirty-seven appeals, our board of governors finally funded the castle’s renovations! You may not notice it, but we’ve managed to almost completely restore the school’s security systems, and Hogwarts is now even safer! And finally, part of the third-floor corridor is closed to visitors this year, unless you wish to die a horrible and painful death.”
“The old man has completely lost his fucking mind,” said the brown-haired, brown-eyed man of rather large build, shaking his head. The girls sitting opposite him giggled cheerfully.
I don’t care! The main thing is that the stone exists, which means the operation codenamed “Trotsky” is going ahead! Even in this world, a fervent revolutionary was hacked to death with an alpenstock, and I just happened to have one ready to chip off a piece for myself—why the hell would I need a whole stone?
“And before we go to bed, let’s sing the school anthem!” Albus waved his wand, and the lyrics appeared in the air, like magical karaoke. The teachers frantically cast silencing charms on themselves, and the children rose from their seats and began singing…
I never liked amateur performances and choir singing, and now I hate them! Bitch! My ears! The little idiots squealed, screeched, and screamed at the top of their lungs, naturally out of time, and this torture lasted for about five minutes. As soon as the last huffs shut up (I remembered them), and the older Slytherins, with a synchronized movement, lifted the curtain of silence from their table, we were sent to our dormitories.
– Freshmen! Freshmen! Don’t disperse! – Our class monitor tried to shout over the hubbub. – Everyone sit!
After waiting for all the seniors to leave the great hall, Percy counted us and turned to the fair-haired girl with the head girl’s badge.
“Demelza, will you escort Longbottom to the hospital wing? I’ll take the boys the long way, we’ll give the speech together.” The girl nodded at his words and gestured for Neville to follow her. He glared at me with annoyance and followed the prefect.
“My name is Percy Weasley, and I’m the Head Boy. I suggest we get to know each other better in the common room, but now let’s go.” The boy lined us up in pairs and led us through the dark corridors to the coveted bedrooms. Most of us were already nodding off and weren’t paying attention to what he was saying. In this sleepy and tired group, we climbed up to the seventh floor.
After walking a bit down the hallway, we heard a disgusting, squelching sound of bowel movements from around the corner. Then, out of nowhere, a school desk and several crutches flew at us, smashing against the kinetic shield our class monitor had deftly set up.
“Peeves! Get out quickly, or I’ll report you to Professor McGonagall!” Percy stood in a fighting stance, holding his wand at the ready.
A nasty laugh echoed from the ceiling, and a nearly round little man appeared, dressed in a jester’s outfit and a cap with bells on his head. He looked at us sarcastically, smiled cheerfully at the sight of Weasley, and began to sing:
Weasel is a pussy licker!
Weasel is a pussy licker!
Penelope licked pussy
All my eyebrows were torn off!
Percy flushed with rage and began to shower this Pennywise from AliExpress with various spells, but the poltergeist turned out to be no pushover and deftly dodged them, continuing to chant in a vile voice:
Weasel is a pussy licker!
Weasel is a pussy licker!
Penelope licked pussy
Got my whole chin dirty!
“Mortis rAptimus!” My wand quickly sent a black sphere spreading out in all directions, passing through the poltergeist, engulfing him in black flames, and throwing him against the wall. Peeves squealed like a pig at a slaughterhouse and began thrashing against the stonework, trying to put out the flames. He must be in a lot of pain right now; I found this banishing curse in a book on the basics of necromancy, and it’s used, as the name suggests, to banish evil spirits. If this bastard hadn’t been tied to the source of Hogwarts, he would have died a second time already. As it is, the castle’s magic feeds him, allowing him to fully experience the effects of the black flames—Peeves is now experiencing the full range of sensations of a heretic at the stake.
Screaming at the top of its lungs, the poltergeist smashed the window and flew toward the lake. Stupid, water won’t help here.
“Thank you, Miss Hellsing, but you shouldn’t use dark magic within the school walls,” Percy said to me in the deathly silence.
“It’s not prohibited.” I shrugged, and the headman nodded and led us on.
After this demonstration, the other kids fell behind us a bit. Finally, we approached a large portrait of a plump lady in a pink dress sitting on a bench, reading a book.
“Kaput draconis.” After the password was spoken, the portrait moved aside, and we nearly went deaf from the screams and shouts.
As I walked through the narrow passage and looked around, I suddenly remembered the teen comedies from my youth, where a typical American schoolboy would invite a crowd of guests over, only to have them destroy his house. This was something similar.
A big guy in a horned helmet stood in the center of the common room, pouring wine straight from a large wooden keg to the crowd’s cries of “Drink!” while everyone else held various goblets or drank straight from the bottle. On the comfortable couches, I counted seven couples, all of them literally making out, the guys’ hands wandering far beyond the bounds of propriety. One guy, shouting “For Gryffindor!” smashed a bottle over his head, and my eye twitched. I hope he doesn’t conjure a fountain for himself. In the far left corner, two girls were holding a third one by the hair, kneeling, while a tall, mulatto woman was slapping her in the face with a huge rubber dick. I glanced the other way, where four guys were kicking a fifth one. The guy was barely resisting and had already stopped trying to cover up. When did we manage to do that? We were about fifteen minutes late!
Percy looked around at the mess that was going on with a smile and cast a curtain of silence over us, judging by his behavior – this is normal!
“Welcome to Gryffindor! The house of the bravest and most courageous!” At that moment, the boy on the floor was kicked particularly hard, jerking violently and coughing up blood, and our brave prefect didn’t even notice. We stood there in shock. “While we wait for the head girl, I’ll tell you a little about the great warrior Godric Griff…”
At that moment, McGonagall appeared in the doorway, out of breath and as pale as chalk. A silent scene ensued; the Dean of House was clearly not expected. The professor, ignoring the others, rushed like a bullet toward the boy, who was already choking on blood. With one movement, she threw the four “brave” students back against the wall, leaned over the injured man, and began waving her wand over him. After a couple of minutes of tense silence, the bleeding stopped, and the boy began to snore rhythmically. The Dean of House straightened her back and glared at her students, who were trying to hide the bottles and goblets behind their backs.
“Mr. Weasley!” Percy swallowed, haunted, under McGonagall’s gaze, and took a step back. “What’s going on here?! Why is there so much alcohol in the common room, and why didn’t you stop the fight?!”
“I just brought the freshmen, we just came in a minute ago.” Our headman began to make excuses.
– You’re lucky you’re on your first day, otherwise you’d have lost your badge already! – At her words, the boy covered his silver brooch with his hand, as if it were his most precious possession. – Send the first years to their dormitories immediately! I declare a faculty meeting! Mr. Wood, take Simons to the hospital wing at once! Miss Johnson, what kind of obscenity are you holding in your hands!? Miss Spinet, Miss Bell! Let Miss Copeland go! Now! What’s going on here?!
“Boys to the left, girls to the right! The rooms are labeled.” Weasley pointed to the spiral staircases. Amid the Dean’s furious shouts, we climbed up to the door marked “First Year,” and there it was, the coveted dormitory.
The room turned out to be round and quite spacious, the floor almost entirely covered by a large, deep-pile carpet. Magical lamps under the high ceiling dimly illuminated five large four-poster beds. The furnishings also included five wooden bedside tables and a large desk standing by the single round window. Our suitcases and trunks were already placed next to the beds; Hermione’s bed was next to mine, as she was the only one without luggage. As soon as the last of the girls entered the room and closed the door behind them, a long-awaited silence reigned.
“Girls, today was a tough day, so I suggest we meet tomorrow.” Our blonde shuffled forward, yawning. She clearly wanted to say something else, but she saw my suitcase and stopped dead in her tracks, then squealed joyfully.
“How lovely!” The girl rushed towards Uncle Alucard’s pink gift. As soon as she touched it, there was a crackling electric discharge, and Lavender was thrown a couple of meters away. Brown sat on her butt, grinning stupidly, her hair standing on end and smoking. With the same wild smile, she shook her head and addressed nothingness: “Sorry, I lost my temper. Girls, I’m going to shower and go to bed.”
Our blonde silently pulled a purse with toiletries and a towel from her trunk, then just as silently stomped into the bathroom. Left alone, the four of us, without a word, headed to our beds. While the girls changed and got ready for the shower, my friend and I swapped things, all the extra stuff from her bag going into my suitcase.
Then I pulled out two large silver crucifixes and handed one to my friend. Gifts from Father Benedict, powerful protective artifacts imbued with the energy of faith to the brim. It’s a kind of divine energy, and only a true believer in the Creator can wield it, and such are called apostles; there are no more than a hundred of them in the entire Anglican Church. So, these crucifixes will prevent anyone from harming us and will repay the enemy in kind. That is, if they want to harm me, they’ll suffer the consequences, but if they want to kill me… Well, the earth will be like glass wool for them.
While we were rearranging our things and attaching crucifixes over the headboards, the girls managed to wash, or rather, rinse off. Brown and Patil looked disapprovingly at the Anglican Creator, but remained silent and, drawing the curtains of their beds, departed for the land of Morpheus. Mione and I quickly shed our outerwear and went to the shower. All that remained was to call Mom and then we could go to bed.
***
“Good night, Mom! I love you!” Integra placed the Miracle Phone on the table with a warm smile.
“So, the little one was sorted into Gryffindor?” A low, velvety voice sounded in the woman’s ear, and strong hands in white gloves lay on her shoulders.
“You heard it all perfectly well. Go on…” The ancient vampire massaged Integra’s shoulders as she leaned back in her comfortable chair.
– I’m not surprised, she’s straightforward and hot-tempered like you… Integra… – Alucard bit his mistress’s earlobe.
– Mmmm… What? – Lady Hellsing raised her head and began to drown in the red pools.
“When will I get an answer to my proposal?” The monster leaned towards her face so that their lips almost touched.
“My daughter will graduate from Hogwarts, then the Imperial Academy, and then…” Integra smiled playfully and grabbed the vampire by the tie, pulling him closer to her.
“I know how to wait…” Alucard whispered and growled like a beast, biting into those sweet and beloved lips.
***
I woke up without an alarm, as usual, at six in the morning, threw open the canopy, and met Mione’s gaze. We shared a smile and headed out for our morning walk. Ten minutes later, we were standing in the empty and surprisingly clean living room; the house elves had done a good job. Five minutes later, Justin arrived, sleepy and rumpled, dressed like us in a black tracksuit with the Hellsing crest on the right chest.
“Let’s go for a run by the lake today, and then we’ll find a suitable spot after class,” I said to my friends and headed for the exit.
– Uh-huh… – Justin yawned loudly and trudged after us.
Quickly descending the stairs to the first floor, we emerged into the castle courtyard and ran toward the Black Lake. After half an hour of fast running, when Finch-Fletchley was already clutching his right side and gasping for breath, Hermione and I began calisthenics and stretching, which smoothly transitioned into sparring. Meanwhile, Justin was trying push-ups and crunches; fighting us was pointless; in mid-August, he tried it and gave up. I accidentally knocked him out with one punch. Luckily, the sergeants were nearby; his broken jaw was quickly healed.
At half past seven, we stumbled into the common room, sweaty and contented, and a hot shower and change into school uniform had brought us back to a more humane state. All the protective artifacts were in place, Uncle Alik’s bracelet and official wand holster were in place, the flak jacket was under my jumper, the concealed-carry scabbard with the Precious was on my hip. The AK-80US and grenades were in my school bag, ready for school. I glanced at Hermione, who was at that moment attaching a harness for her MP-5 (this little thing is invisible under her robes), paused, and decided to follow her example.
Elvira woke up just as I’d already secured the pink MP-5 and was jumping up and down, checking to make sure everything was secure. Satisfied, I slipped on my robe, almost glowing with protective runes, and met our roommate’s shocked gaze.
– Good morning! I’m Rigel Hellsing, and this is my best friend, Hermione Granger! – I greeted the girl cheerfully. – Get up, breakfast is almost ready.
– H-h-hello. Elvira S-Smith. Nice to meet you. – Her roommate answered, stuttering with excitement. – What is all this for?
“We’re at Hogwarts, the safest place in Wizarding Britain!” Hermione replied, inserting a magazine into her submachine gun, pulling back the bolt, and setting the safety on her little one. Then he disappeared under her wide robes, literally lost in the folds.
“Girls! Wake up! Breakfast is in half an hour!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, but Brown and Patil didn’t react. This wasn’t right. I walked over to the blonde’s bed and, pulling back the curtain, saw a sleeping starfish. “Aguamenti!”
– Kyaaaaa!!! – Lavender jumped up and met my satisfied face. – Hellsing! Are you crazy! Have you completely lost your mind!?
“Get up, sleepyhead, breakfast’s in half an hour.” I nodded toward the mechanical alarm clock on her nightstand. She’d gotten it out, but she’d forgotten to wind it.
– Merlin! Why didn’t you wake me up earlier!? – Lavender jumped up as if stung. – I won’t have time to put on makeup!
“You get ready here, and we’ll go sit on the couch.” We left the room, and I couldn’t help but wince. The entire living room was decorated in bright red: the furniture, the rugs, the tapestries, even the wooden ceiling—even that was painted red! The whole atmosphere seemed to scream: “Kill! Gut your enemy, and decorate the nearest spruce tree with his intestines!” I shook myself, driving the image of impaling the carcass of He-Who-Will-Die-Ass-For-A-Long-Time on a century-old pine tree from my mind. By that time, we had approached the nearest soft couch and, having settled comfortably, began to observe the surroundings.
Almost all the seniors came downstairs, looking very angry and disgruntled, silently nodding to each other and leisurely leaving the common room. Two seniors settled down not far from us and began chatting quietly, clearly waiting for someone.
– Mordred! I don’t understand, Angus, why the hell did McCosh run into the living room yesterday?
“Are you asking me? She only came here a couple of times in six years of study!” The second one snapped angrily at the first one.
– Listen, maybe it’s because of Simons? – The first blond guy nudged Angus in the shoulder.
“It’s true, the guys really overdid it yesterday, that loser started vomiting blood!” A thoughtful expression appeared on the brunette named Angus’s face. “We need to check!”
He began scanning the living room for someone when a short, brown-haired man, slightly younger than the boys, appeared on the stairs. Angus smiled cheerfully and waved his hand, attracting attention.
– Hey, Smithers! Come here quickly! – Brown-haired had already descended the last step and turned to the guys with a smile. – Reducto! Tempus!
The unfortunate Smithers felt as if someone had hit him in the face with an iron bat. Blood sprayed everywhere, teeth flew, and the boy fell unconscious onto the stairs. Blood began to spurt from his broken nose and shattered jaw.
– What are you doing? – Our headman yelled from the stairs and ran towards the victim. – Macmillan, are you completely crazy!?
“Weasley, calm down, you’ll be as good as new tomorrow.” Angus waved him off. “We’re conducting a science experiment. You’ll figure it out in a couple of minutes.”
“What Morgana…” Percy didn’t have time to finish, as McGonagall, pale and sweating, burst into the living room. She immediately ran to Smithers and, with a wave of her wand, applied a semblance of a bandage, then cleaned away all the blood, remnants of teeth, and the remains of the victim’s jawbone. And then…
Under her gaze, Weasley shrank and took a few steps back, Macmillan tried to quietly get away, but it didn’t work.
– Everyone freeze! – the dean yelled. – Who did this!? Weasley!?
“It’s Macmillan, he accidentally…” the red-haired head of class mumbled quietly, and our dean glared at the experimenter.
“Professor McGonagall, it was an accident, honest!” The boy began to babble in fear. “I was showing Cooper the spell and accidentally hit Smithers! He just appeared out of nowhere!”
“Minus fifty points from Gryffindor and detention with Professor Prince until Halloween!” the dean hissed angrily.
– Why Professor Prince? – Macmillan literally panicked.
“After yesterday, Mr. Filch is busy until the end of November, now all detentions will go to Professor Prince! Any more stupid questions?” The boys shook their heads. “And now Mr. Smithers is to be taken to the hospital wing immediately!”
Macmillan and Cooper quickly ran to the victim, raised his unconscious body with a spell and flew out of the living room, where many people had already gathered and whispers had begun.
“Mr. Weasley.” The Dean looked sternly at our prefect. “If this happens again, you’ll lose your badge and be in detention for the rest of the year. Is that clear?!”
Without waiting for an answer, McGonagall quickly left the common room. I thought I understood how the security system worked. What if the blood spilled on the plastic instead of the floor? I’d have to check, but on whom? At that moment, the portrait slid aside, revealing Longbottom, who met my vivisectionist gaze, hiccupped nervously, and ran to his room. Had I injured him somehow? Or was I the one who beat him up first, so now he’s simply afraid of me?
Five minutes later, the girls from our dorm approached Hermione and me, led by Brown, who had managed not only to comb her hair but also put on makeup. Smith and Patil also looked neat, but without makeup.
“Girls, I’ve been thinking about it, and we’ve decided to have a pajama party tonight!” Lavender smiled dreamily. “We’ll sit over a cup of hot chocolate, and each of us will briefly tell each other about ourselves. We’ve been living together for at least five years, so we need to get to know each other to avoid any silly conflicts.”
“Agreed!” Hermione answered for both of us. “I have nothing against it. In the films, Brown was quite the gossip, and it’s better to be friends with a source of information.”
– Excellent! Then you owe me cocoa, and I owe you some treats! – Brown smiled contentedly. – What happened here? What’s all this panic about, and why is Weasley so angry?
While I was briefly recounting how two seniors, in an “unknown” experiment, launched a Reducto at the third boy’s face, our prefect practically kicked the first-year boys out of the room. Then Percy yelled at him and even hit a couple of older boys with a Stinging Hex. After waiting for the prefect to return from the girls’ quarters, we all headed off to breakfast.
Along the way, the boy calmed down a bit, and he and Demelza began telling us about the school, the landmarks along the way, the magical portraits, and finally, about the infernal creations of dark mages—moving staircases. I agree with them on this one; it’s a real madhouse! There are over a hundred of them in the central dungeon, and they move randomly. Maybe there was a system in place once upon a time, but it clearly stopped working over the centuries, so you can get down to the first floor in a couple of minutes, or it can take half an hour. Something like that.
On the first floor, we stood in front of four glass flasks displaying the House points. Hmm… Everyone was down a lot; it looked like we weren’t the only ones the Dean of Houses had visited yesterday. Slytherin was in the lead with -80 points, followed by Ravenclaw with -130, and Hufflepuff with -160, while Gryffindor stood out with a whopping -320 points. Just how much will Dumbledore be expected to give us at the end of the year?
The Great Hall was filled with a steady hum, and almost every student had disgruntled expressions. No, not all: Malfoy and Black sat at the table, looking as pleased as a Jew who’d found a shekel. The staff table was also filled with interest; all the deans were casting disapproving glances at their students, while Dumbledore, on the contrary, was cheerful and upbeat, which only further infuriated those around him. It seemed the reversal was hitting the deans first, so the headmaster was enjoying himself, finally getting them to work.
I sat down at the table, and oatmeal immediately appeared on my plate. I managed to grab some berries, sausages, and butter from the shared dishes, and spread some strawberry jam on a couple of slices of toast. After training, my appetite is always voracious, and Mia was right behind me, and Justin was already wolfing down the porridge, racing Ron.
After a hearty breakfast in comfortable silence, I was starting on tea and toast when Robins came over and started handing out timetables. What idiocy! Couldn’t they have handed them out in the common room so we could pack our bags right away? It didn’t matter to us whether Mia and I had everything in our extra-large bags, or whether Justin had everything in our extra-large bags, but Smith would have to trudge back to his dorm, just like Thomas and Finnigan. And since first-years weren’t allowed to wander around without prefect supervision for now, we all had to trudge back to the seventh floor and then rush to class. So, what’s our first lesson? Before I could even unfold the parchment, I heard Weasley’s mournful cry.
“You’re like Morgana’s grandmother! Two Transfiguration lessons with snakes, and then Charms and Herbology.” Ron nodded to himself. “Well, at least the last two lessons with the ravens; those bookworms seem like normal kids.”
We got up from the table and quickly followed the head boy. Let’s see what they teach at Hogwarts.
