Chapter 41
“MIYA!” I jumped up in bed and looked around in panic, my heart pounding like crazy, my whole body covered in cold, sticky sweat. My nightgown was soaking wet and stuck to my body, and my gun was clutched tightly in my hand. I quickly turned my head and didn’t immediately recognize my room, then my gaze found the top of my curly head, and only then did I begin to calm down – my best friend was now snoring rhythmically on the other side of the bed, drooling on the pillow. It was a nightmare, just a nightmare. A very fucking realistic one, but still a nightmare. Praise be to the Creator, may His power be one and inviolable. I collapsed back onto the soft bed.
My father-in-law from my past life was right when he said that true fear and the adrenaline rush come after a fight, and so it washed over me, manifesting my deepest fear in a nightmare. I’m incredibly terrified of losing my loved ones. After fidgeting a bit, I pulled the warm blanket over my head, but it didn’t help; I was still shaking as if from the cold, so I moved closer to Hermione and gently hugged her. In the dream, the girl was breathing rhythmically and furrowing her brow, so warm, so alive … Whatever, I hugged her tightly and held her close; it was calmer that way. Having finally calmed down, I replayed in my head that fucking nightmare—there’s no other way to describe it—that had happened the previous evening.
Things were so calm at Hogwarts that we stopped carrying machine guns for the last week, we just fucking relaxed… That damned evening, there was an assassination attempt on Hermione and me, and why on us? Because the killer ignored Justin, and the Avads were aimed specifically at me and my best friend. That’s when the pistol’s shortcoming became apparent: its short effective range. The invisible assailant was standing at the end of the corridor, at least a hundred and fifty meters away, which is why he survived so long.
Avada is a pretty quick spell, and the second beam flew just a few centimeters from Hermione. At that moment, my heart sank, and I started shooting out of fear, almost perfectly. Then I finished the bastard off with a spell, and then, just like in the movies, Dumbledore made a spectacular appearance.
At first, the director tried to save the killer, but it was too late, and he moved toward us, while I was already holding the Miraclephone and frantically calling my mother. Hearing her voice, the old man suddenly turned pale, as did the deans who had appeared behind him. After a brief report on what had happened, I felt downright uneasy: for the first time, I saw my mother furious and heard her screaming. At that moment, Baroness Integra Freybrook Hellsing, head of the Order of Protestant Knights, was looking at me from the Miraclephone screen… And she was screaming. Obscenely.
Everyone in the hallway heard the ultimatum: if Dumbledore didn’t give Integra the names of the people who ordered it by midnight, the Wizarding World would be in tatters, starting with the destruction of the school. An assassination attempt on the heir of Hellsing was a flagrant violation of the Treaty, and the Order now had a free hand. Anyway, the pale-faced Headmaster assured her he would provide all the names, addresses, and passwords on time, but they shouldn’t get too excited. In response, Lady Integra—at that moment, I was standing at attention myself—sent the old man to hell and ordered the three of us to immediately activate the emergency Portkeys.
The next moment, Hermione and I found ourselves at Hellsing Manor, and Justin flew home. Mom hugged us tightly and held us for five minutes, shaking all over, her emotions a tumultuous cocktail of rage and fear. After making sure we were all okay, she ordered us to my room. All around, there was chaos—the alarm had been sounded and the Knights of the Round Table had assembled.
Ten minutes later, Mia and I watched from the window as the Order’s soldiers, alerted, left the estate. Attack helicopters took off from the platforms, and dozens of trucks filled with soldiers rolled out the gates, all under the cover of heavy infantry fighting vehicles. A little later, they were joined by super-heavy tanks—three dozen of these behemoths of the Great War are still in service with the Empire, precisely because all their electronics are analog, allowing them to blatantly ignore magic. Another three hundred of the most trained and war-hardened soldiers were portkeyed into position. All of them were heading for the borders of the Magical World enclaves. As far as I knew, the attack plan had been prepared for a long time; they just needed a pretext, and now it had arrived. A casus belli, so to speak.
Hermione and I shuddered and exchanged glances. If the old man didn’t fulfill the ultimatum, there would be war. Another half hour later, the Granger family’s jeep crashed into the estate, and my mother ordered them to report to a safe place immediately. At the same time, the generals and Sir Island arrived. The military gentlemen were excited and brimming with anticipation, but I understood what kind of mess could happen from a bunch of idiot Magoos. I didn’t believe the guy had decided to kill me on his own: the older student acted like a robot, making no attempt to escape or hide, meaning he was most likely drugged with potions or put under the Imperius Curse.
Dinner was a bit of a shambles. Mom was busy coordinating troops with the generals, so only Hermione’s parents, who took turns nervously hugging their eldest daughter, and our fanged heavy artillery were present. Victoria was very pleased, or rather, overjoyed as a child, promising to bring me the head of the one who had offended her. Only Alucard didn’t care; he proudly and leisurely sipped blood from his goblet, merely muttering that if a conflict did break out, he’d drink his fill of children’s blood. I figured the assault, and most likely the destruction of Hogwarts, was his responsibility. After dinner, we were all sent to our rooms: Hermione and I, naturally, to our own, while the Grangers and their small child were given the guest quarters.
An hour later, a disgruntled Hermione came into my room and said she couldn’t sleep, but I was only too happy to have company. It finally dawned on me, like a duck, that my best friend could have died… So, hugging each other, we settled down on the huge bed. Incidentally, Mia was also shaking and trying to keep quiet. When a friend is really worried or anxious, she starts stuttering. Such a sweetheart, my sweetheart. And so we fell asleep, and now, hugging my warm and alive friend, I was slowly returning to the world of dreams. May the Creator protect us, come what may…
While the two young witches were peacefully crushing their pillows, the Hogwarts Headmaster’s office was very crowded. Albus Dumbledore sat on his golden throne, frowning at the many people present.
A profusely sweating Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge sat on a sofa, his bowler hat resting on his lap as he dabbed his forehead with a snow-white handkerchief. Beside him stood an imperturbable Bartemius Crouch Sr., the acting Head of Aurors, his nervousness betrayed by the moustache comb he was fiddling with. Alastor Moody, grinning and sipping Firewhiskey, sat in armchairs. He led the Aurors who had surrounded the school and secured all key points of the castle, and Regulus Black, the youngest Head of the Department of Mysteries in the history of Wizarding Britain, whose mentalists, under the supervision of the DMLE, were interrogating the students. Professor Prince and the head of the board of governors, Lucius Malfoy, one of the richest and most influential wizards on the islands, stood near the bookcases. The pompous yin-yangs were quietly conversing. Opposite stood Amelia Bones, the head of the DMP, a tall and rather beautiful blonde woman who glared at the former Death Eaters with a hateful gaze.
“What have we found out?” Dumbledore looked around at those present and settled on Black, whose mentalists had recently completed their interrogations and information gathering.
“As I said at the very beginning, this is Milton Rowley. He cast Imperio on David Finch and gave a clear order to kill the girls.” The man leaned back wearily in his chair. “My niece pointed at him right away; why waste so much time?”
“The brat could have had accomplices!” Moody stamped his prosthetic foot.
“Why didn’t Miss Black stop him?” the Minister of Magic spoke up. “Your niece should have reported immediately that an assassination attempt was being planned on the platinum bitch’s daughter! This is outrageous!”
“Miss Black is merely a prefect, not a D.M.D. employee,” the Head of Slytherin said, then quietly continued. “And half the school is considering killing Miss Hellsing. Are you suggesting we send all those students to Azkaban? I couldn’t even imagine that my house included such reckless and short-sighted students.”
“But we can’t hand over this brat to the Hellsings!” The Minister nervously clutched his bowler hat. “What will the public say?!”
“It’s far more serious than that, Minister,” Madam Bones said, drawing attention to herself. “The assassination attempt on Miss Hellsing was Ludwig Rowley’s idea. Everyone here knows that family is going through hard times right now and blames the platinum bitch for everything. Frankly, there’s a reason for that.”
“Of course! But it wasn’t just the Crown’s dogs who were at work there.” Moody glanced at Malfoy with displeasure, then took a long swig from his flask. “Someone then finished off that family and drove them into such debt that they could sell themselves in Knockturn.”
“Remind me what happened then?” Fudge looked questioningly at Bones, then turned his gaze to the Headmaster. “In those turbulent times, I was very busy with Ministry affairs and missed a lot.”
“In short, the Rowley family had been producing very expensive and complex potions for many centuries, growing rare ingredients for them in their greenhouses. They also owned a large farm where they bred numerous animals. The business was very profitable and flourished.” Dumbledore glanced at Malfoy. “But then the werewolves attacked Muggle villages, and Hellsing’s soldiers, on the Queen’s orders, began the genocide of the unfortunate…”
“What do pure-blooded and respected wizards have to do with this?” The Minister looked around at those present, puzzled.
“They used flea-bitten people as labor, the greedy cretins!” The Auror veteran slammed his fist on the armrest. “When the Platinum Bitch’s thugs came to them and demanded they hand over all the werewolves, Raymond Rowley, who was in charge of production at the time, told them to get lost and even started throwing Avadas at them! Idiot!”
Moody spat on the floor, groaned as he stood up from the chair and walked around it, leaning against the leather back.
“In the end, Hellsing’s soldiers got offended and killed everyone!” A grimace of anger and regret appeared on his scarred face. “I was there, accompanying the DMP when they were clearing away the rubble and compiling lists of the dead. Those rabid fanatics quickly killed a dozen mercenary guards, and crucified Rowley himself and his pregnant wife right in front of the gates! Then those bastards herded everyone else into the warehouse building and set it on fire! Women and children burned alive!”
“Excuse me, but where did you get such details?” Fudge stared at Moody with interest. “If, according to you, Hellsing’s soldiers killed everyone?”
“According to old tradition, the Hounds of the Crown left one survivor…” Moody took a long swig from his flask and sniffed his sleeve. “Jean Baptiste Dubois, a master potion maker, worked for Rowley for a couple of decades. The commander of a hundred Protestant knights chopped off his arms and legs, then gouged out his eyes. All the weapons were cursed, so we sent what was left of the frogman to his relatives in France, where the cripple is living out his days. For me, it would have been better if he’d been killed.”
“Two of Ludwig’s granddaughters perished in that flame, and his eldest son arrived at the factory with his entire family.” Amelia Bones sighed sadly. “I knew Charlotte; she was so happy when the Mediwitches announced their third child would be a boy. Hellsing’s soldiers burned everything to the ground: all the greenhouses, warehouses, farms, and even the potion brewery. And then He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named fell, Rowley’s youngest son was sent to Azkaban for associating with Death Eaters, and the family was slapped with huge fines.”
Bones and Moody glared at Malfoy with hostility, to which the venerable lord chuckled and made his most honest eyes:
“My family was very helpful to the struggling purebloods back then. Rowley didn’t have the money to pay all his debts, and their middle son was studying in Europe, which also required a fair amount of money.” Lucius smiled earnestly at everyone present. “So I nobly agreed to buy all their lands and businesses, but even that wasn’t enough, so I gave the unfortunate family a loan at a paltry interest rate! I acted out of the kindness of my heart, literally at my own expense.”
“I’ll put a manticore in your bed! You bought these lands for ten times less than their real value!” Moody pointed angrily at the platinum blond. “And 398% per annum is a loss, in your opinion?! The green-skinned shorties have lower interest rates!”
“That’s a blatant lie! The Ministry of Magic was in charge of land appraisals; Lord Goyle was in charge of that department at the time and he honestly assessed their value.” Malfoy made an offended face. “And the interest is really paltry; I usually charge more. It’s not my fault that most wizards haven’t attended Arithmetic classes and are therefore completely unfamiliar with arithmetic.”
“Silence!” Albus interrupted the commotion. “We are gathered here to solve an important problem, and we don’t have much time!”
Everyone immediately fell silent and stared intently at the director.
“We’ve discovered that the Rowley family was behind the assassination attempt on the Hellsing heiress. Their motive was revenge, as they blame the Crown’s dogs for their plight.” The room’s guests nodded in unison. “And the assassination attempt on the girl is a direct violation of the Treaty, which is why the platinum bitch is now threatening us with war. Therefore, I propose we immediately convey this information to Integra, and let her punish the culprits herself.”
“If we do this, there will be one less pure-blood family,” Mr. Black said quietly.
“And if we don’t do this, tomorrow we could lose one Wizarding Britain!” Dumbledore slammed his fist on the table and cast a cold glance at everyone present. “Do you even understand the gravity of this situation?! Hellsing has already deployed over a thousand fighters! We’re dealing with a cruel and merciless bitch, commanding a large, well-equipped, and trained army! And now she’s furious because some Mordred idiot wants revenge!”
“But we can’t hand over respected and noble wizards to be slaughtered.” Cornelius Fudge looked around at those present, confused. “The Rowleys are part of the ‘Sacred 28’. Are we just going to break that ancient family line? I don’t believe the Muggles would dare attack!”
True, the minister’s voice lacked confidence, but a hint of panic was audible to everyone. At that moment, a patronus in the form of a marten appeared before Amelia Bones and whispered something quietly. After listening to the message, the head of the DMP frowned and clenched her fists.
“Augusta discovered that this morning Rowley purchased ten international portkeys to Iceland, which will activate at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.” The woman’s voice trembled with rage. “The filthy pixie! He decided to do his dirty work and then run away! I won’t allow it! Lord Supreme Warlock, I fully support your decision!”
“I agree with Albus too,” Crouch Sr., who had been silent all this time, spoke up. “For the sake of his revenge, Rowley has put the security of Magical Britain at risk. We simply have nothing to counter the Order of Protestant Knights with now, and starting a war over one mad avenger would be foolish indeed.”
“Gentlemen, let’s be honest with ourselves, Mr. Minister.” Lucius Malfoy stepped forward and addressed Fudge with the utmost seriousness. “The Rowley family has jeopardized the sovereignty and very existence of Wizarding Britain! To ensure the safety of our citizens, we are simply obliged to fulfill the terms of the ancient Treaty and resolve this matter peacefully before it is too late.”
The wealthy lord returned to his seat and discreetly handed his old friend a small platinum ring with a black diamond, an international Portkey punch. A similar ring was currently on Lucius’s little finger, and his beloved wife, Narcissa, had departed for Nice two hours earlier—her favorite shop had announced a sale. The Head of Slytherin accepted the artifact and blinked barely perceptibly in response, while the ring quietly disappeared into the sleeve of his robe.
The Patronus appeared in the office again, this time in the form of a skunk, and, landing on the director’s desk, addressed the head of the Auror Office in a hoarse, drunken voice:
– Chief, urgent note! The hustler said the Cauldron was surrounded by churchmen, they’re preparing big bangs and some kind of artifacts! They didn’t come any closer, they’re scared! The rest of the guys are saying this kind of crap is everywhere! The Redfins quickly changed their tune and abandoned half the villages. Chief, I’m here for you, sure, but let’s do it later, okay? Me and the homies are going to the bottom.
As soon as the “voice message” ended, silence fell over the room, broken by a flicker from the fireplace. A tall, stocky man in a scarlet Auror robe emerged from the green flames. The guest shook his head, causing his thick mane of dark yellow hair to disarray and partially conceal the panic on his face.
“Rufus, what happened?” Crouch Sr. turned to his subordinate.
“Hellsing’s soldiers have surrounded the ministry! There are over a hundred of them and they’re preparing to storm it.” The Deputy Chief of Aurors looked at the minister. “Order the ministry to be put on siege and all shields activated. I only have forty men; I’ve scattered the rest among key facilities; we won’t hold out for long. I saw their enchanted storm shields; they’ll simply sweep us away in those narrow corridors!”
“There will be no assault.” Regulus Black leaned back calmly in his chair, while everyone except Dumbledore stared at the Head of the Department of Mysteries with surprise and incomprehension. “These are so-called barrier squads, designed to ensure no one escapes alive. Hellsing will employ the tactics employed by the Ivans during the storming of Berlin at the end of the Great War. The Churchmen will deploy an anti-Apparition barrier, and then destroy the stabilizing contours of the Ministry’s spatial pocket. As a result, the hidden space will simply collapse, destroying its contents.”
Mr. Black spoke so calmly only because a couple of minutes ago the bracelet on his left wrist had heated up three times, signaling the completion of the evacuation of the Department of Mysteries. Now his men and their most valuable possessions had gathered at the reserve base. A century ago, wizards had realized that if war broke out with the Muggles, they would lose, so they created a secret protocol called the Dead Hand. While the Aurors and the DPM distracted the Crown’s dogs, the Unspeakables would have time to prepare an ancient cascading ritual to summon an Archdemon and, before their deaths, unleash hell on earth. Regulus sincerely believed the Crown knew about this suicidal plan, and so the Muggles would flex their muscles a little and calm down. The wizard himself had no desire to commit such a crime, but the oath he had taken upon assuming his post obliged him.
Cornelius Fudge surveyed the distinguished wizards gathered in the Hogwarts Headmaster’s office and sighed heavily. Many considered Cornelius a narrow-minded, greedy coward who’d been appointed Minister of Magic simply because he pleased everyone, but that was just a facade. Otherwise, how could he have held his position for so long and become one of the twenty richest men in Wizarding Britain? Fudge wasn’t a powerful or exceptional wizard, but he knew how to think and plan, and he was also an excellent manager. Over the past ten years, he’d managed to restore the economy, implement a number of reforms, reduce crime, and reconcile ancient families. Now, the nobles preferred to weave intrigues and resolve conflicts in the Wizengamot. True, the law always favored the one with the most Galleons, but that was a minor detail.
Cornelius had only one weakness: he disliked taking responsibility, so the Wizengamot met so frequently that many respected wizards went to the Ministry as if it were their job. Under Fudge, it became impossible to find someone to blame, as a large number of influential and respected wizards were simultaneously responsible for the adoption of any regulation or amendment to current legislation, even the most minor. The Minister hoped that today, as usual, Dumbledore would take charge of the crisis, but the old man demonstratively withdrew.
Fudge rose from his chair and squared his shoulders, his silly, naive expression giving way to seriousness, and his eyes blazing with confidence. The Minister donned his bowler hat and stepped to the center of the room to issue orders. The plan had been laid out at the beginning of the meeting, but Cornelius had hoped until the very end that someone else would take the lead. After all, if anything went wrong, he would be the one held accountable…
“Everyone, pay attention! As long as I’m Minister of Magic, there will be no war with the Muggles! All information on Milton Rowley and his family is to be passed on to the Chief Warlock. Albus, do you have a line to the platinum bitch?” The Headmaster nodded calmly. “Give it all to the Hellsings! The people of Wizarding Britain should not be held responsible for a family of degenerates whose leader couldn’t even organize a proper assassination attempt or plan an escape route. To Mordred Rowley, they’re not just useless to the well-being of the country, they’re a threat!”
“Rufus, Barty! Go to the Ministry immediately and restore order among your people. And one more thing…” Fudge looked sternly at the security forces, who stood at attention. “The list of those who abandoned their posts and fled today must be on my desk tomorrow! There is no place for cowardly nobodies in the Auror Office!”
“Amelia! We need a big scandal to show off the Ministry’s work. Any ideas?” Cornelius looked demandingly at the head of the DMP. Everyone knew Bones had dirt on many members of the Wizengamot, which is why they feared her and left her alone.
“There’s a major slave market in Lyutny, owned by three young families and Tolstoy. These scum control a quarter of Britain’s criminal underworld, but they actually serve the Notts.” The woman smiled in anticipation; she’d long dreamed of crushing this viper’s nest and putting the former devourer to shame.
“Excellent! Bring in Augusta and her operatives. Barty, assign two stars of reliable people to reinforce them.” Crouch and Bones nodded contentedly. “Develop a plan and head out after midnight to make the arrest. Be as rude and loud as possible. I’ll sort things out with Clifford tomorrow.”
The minister’s final words made the security forces clench their fists in anger; they were almost explicitly forbidden to touch the very rich and influential lord, even though he was a former Devourer.
“Lucius, you’re the press. Gather everyone, especially that nasty Skitter. Next week, every newspaper’s front page must be screaming about the successes of the M.D.M. and the Auror Office! Let the details of the slavers’ activities be described vividly and graphically; the common people love dirt.” Cornelius thought for a moment. “Tolstoy is out, the rest are detained. We’ll make the trials public. Also, on the second or third page, let them put a notice that the Muggle military was conducting routine exercises; we don’t need panic. And most importantly, if even a line about the assassination attempt on Hellsing appears in the papers, the entire editorial staff will be found in pieces in a roadside ditch!”
“Alastor, you and your men are at Dumbledore’s beck and call.” The brave Auror chuckled contentedly in response. “You are responsible for Hogwarts! If the Muggles do attack, you must ensure the evacuation of the children at all costs. Schoolchildren are the future of Wizarding Britain!”
“Regulus!” The Minister looked thoughtfully at the head of the Department of Mysteries, but his thoughts were interrupted by a large, translucent crow hovering in front of his face and beginning to scream in a demanding female voice.
“Cornelius, what’s going on?! Why are there Muggle tanks at Grimmauld Place?! Three iron monsters are pointing their guns straight at my house! Solve this immediately! Otherwise, tomorrow our family will hold a small meeting of the Wizengamot, and we’ll recount the 146% of the votes you got in the last ministerial election!”
Fudge suddenly turned pale and reached for a handkerchief. Dumbledore smiled sadly and intervened in the situation, thereby preventing the Minister from losing his fighting spirit.
“Regulus, my boy, go home and calm your mother down. It’s very harmful for her to worry at her age.” The Head of the Department of Mysteries’ jaw tightened at the fatherly, gentle address, but at the same moment, a cold sweat broke out from Dumbledore’s murderous gaze. “Oh, don’t worry, my boy. I’m sure your mother will be fine if she rests more often and spends more time with her family. And also, since the crisis is resolved, tell your friends that it’s late and time to go home. You shouldn’t play with matches when you’re sitting on a barrel of kerosene. Especially without permission from an adult.”
As soon as the Hogwarts headmaster fell silent, the young wizard rose from his chair and moved mechanically toward the fireplace. Regulus was terrified. He knew with all his bones that if he uttered a word of protest, he would die a painful death. Dumbledore had just revealed his knowledge and disapproval of the Unspeakables’ plan. How did the old man know about the secret protocol? Perhaps he knew about the backup base as well? Young Black had plenty to think about. But he wouldn’t go up against the old man; Albus was too strong, and on school grounds, he was practically invulnerable. The young man automatically tossed a pinch of gunpowder into the fireplace and headed home, all the while using a special artifact to broadcast abort commands to all his subordinates.
The rest of the Ministry staff ignored the nervous behavior of the Head of the Department of Mysteries, following him to carry out orders and resolve the accumulated problems. Only the Director and the old Auror remained in the office. Moody saluted his old friend and downed the rest of his flask in one gulp.
“I haven’t seen Cornelius like this in a long time,” the veteran said thoughtfully.
“It’s good for him; the simpleton mask has become too firmly ingrained in his face.” Albus gestured toward the bottle of mead. “Let the country have a proper Minister of Magic for just one evening; he’s too used to shifting responsibility onto others.”
– And the churchmen? Aren’t you afraid? – Gryum pulled a glass from his sleeve.
“My friend, reread the chronicles. Hellsing always attacks suddenly and without declaring war.” The old man smiled into his beard. “Today, Integra simply demonstrated her power. If she had wanted to, we would already be dead.”
“Is it that bad?” Alastor smiled, making his scars look even uglier. He waited for his friend to nod before pouring fifty each, checking the bottle first. “Constant vigilance!” he said. “You only live once.”
After drinking and snacking on lemon wedges, which went perfectly with the strong drink, the friends relaxed a little.
“Why didn’t you cover for the girl? I can’t believe you didn’t know.” The Auror narrowed his eyes.
“I didn’t have time,” the old wizard muttered, turning his throne into a comfortable chair with a wave of his hand and leaning back contentedly. “I was at another Wizengamot meeting, deciding on standards for ladles and cauldron lids. The signal is getting to the Ministry late. A bunch of idiots killed a young innocent man today… Alastor, I’m tired…”
“How about retirement? Let’s dump these degenerates and head off to Europe?” Moody poured another beer. “We’ll visit all the brothels in Amsterdam, visit a veil community in France, and then stop by the Žatec Brewery in the Czech Republic and sample some light lager brewed according to a 12th-century recipe.”
“It’s a tempting offer, but I can’t. Our country is on the brink of a cesspool, and if I leave, Wizarding Britain will take a big step forward.” Albus drank, sniffed his beard, the bells jingling cheerfully, and looked wearily at his friend. “Last year, the Dark Party pushed a bill for the forced sterilization of Muggle-borns; I was only able to defeat the initiative on the third reading! Alastor, they’re idiots!”
– I understand. – Auror poured another one.
“Just a second.” A phoenix appeared before the old and tired wizard. Albus thrust a folder containing all the information about the Rowley family, including the locations of their hidden hideouts, into its clutches and mentally transmitted the coordinates of the Hellsing Manor gates. After which Fawkes vanished in a flash of fire, and the headmaster turned to his tipsy friend: “This girl is very promising, you know…”
***
A phoenix appeared in a fiery flash before the gates of the Hellsing estate. The fiery bird swooped down gracefully, dropped a thick brown folder in front of the guard, and quickly flew away. One of the guards checked the package with a special artifact, then called the duty officer and placed the find in a shielded box. Ten minutes later, an orderly entered the office of the head of the Order, where the Knights of the Round Table were meeting, and delivered the package.
“Thank you, Douglas.” The Iron Lady nodded to the soldier and, taking out a folder of documents, immediately began to study them. The soldier smiled, gave a military salute, and left the office. The Knights of the Order respected Lady Hellsing for her phenomenal memory; she knew every soldier by sight and their last names.
“And who are these abortion victims who attacked our heiress?” The infantry general looked up from the map and addressed the blonde.
“Rowley, these creatures have decided to avenge the death of their eldest son.” The Head of the Order smiled predatorily and handed the folder to the Vice Admiral. “They will die a long and painful death!”
“I remember some of them. In 1980, representatives of this family obstructed the Crown’s will to eliminate a biological threat.” Sir Penwood turned the page. “Four of our soldiers died then, and Lieutenant Kessinger employed scorched earth tactics. After such a demonstration, the remaining magicians no longer interfered with our Order.”
“How are the maneuvers going?” Sir Islands turned to General Walsh.
“Excellent! Tactical exercises are proceeding according to schedule! The troops are currently practicing the installation and deployment of portable magic suppressors. Earlier, the unit commanders practiced coordination and interaction with the police special forces and the separate mechanized battalion. And the new radios and communications equipment are beyond praise.” The infantry general adjusted his earpiece and checked his watch. “In half an hour, the personnel will begin to assemble in marching columns and head to their permanent deployment sites.”
“Assault teams?” Integra turned to the Vice Admiral and again ran her eyes over the parchment that contained the address of the Rowley estate and a list of all its residents.
“Awaiting your order. The helicopters are fueled and ready for takeoff,” Sir Penwood reported.
“Her Majesty has approved the intimidation campaign.” Sir Islands handed Integra a form bearing the royal seal. “We have been authorized to use all available means and resources, except weapons of mass destruction.”
The generals exchanged satisfied glances, and the platinum blonde grinned bloodthirstily and lit a cigarette.
“Captain Seras!” A short, pretty, blue-eyed girl with a gorgeous figure and golden hair quickly approached Lady Hellsing. She had stood quietly in the corner all evening awaiting orders, and now, smiling modestly, she gazed devotedly at her mistress.
“Victoria.” Integra handed the vampire a parchment with a list of names and looked her in the eye demandingly. “These people must be destroyed! Show these bastards the righteous wrath of Hellsing. I command you to find and destroy them!”
The vampire’s eyes blazed with a crimson flame, and her modest smile transformed into a terrifying, snarling maw, filled with needle-like, inhuman fangs. The predator grinned contentedly, making her sweet face look even more terrifying. Having accepted the list of future victims from her mistress, she set out on her nightly hunt.
