Chapter 85
“See Paris and die!” I whispered the famous phrase with a smile and stuck my head to the window.
As our plane circled the French capital, I managed to get a glimpse of this beautiful city from a bird’s eye view, and I loved what I saw. The famous Eiffel Tower, the Champs-Élysées, and other historic buildings looked magnificent, even magical in places. Fidgeting in my soft seat, I fought my childish innocence, eager to stroll through Paris and sample the local cuisine. I also really wanted to visit the Louvre and Notre-Dame de Paris, and, of course, spit from the top of the Eiffel Tower—the latter was a no-brainer, a must-do on the cultural program. And I also wanted…
“Dear passengers, please take your seats, fasten your seatbelts, and refrain from smoking,” the butler’s calm voice came over the loudspeaker. “In five minutes, our aircraft will land at Charles de Gaulle Airport. Thank you for using Hellsing-Avia. I hope you enjoyed your flight and that you’ll choose us again.”
Turns out Walter knows how to joke! I leaned back in my comfortable chair and looked at Victoria, who had settled in across from me. The vampire sat with her legs elegantly crossed, leafing wisely through a magazine called “Equipment and Weapons: Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow, and the Day After.” Was it just me, or was her uniform skirt getting shorter and shorter, her cleavage ever deeper? Seriously, I’d already appreciated her black lace panties, and her enormous, luxurious breasts threatened to burst free with every movement!
Chuckling, I glanced at the platinum blonde sitting in the next chair, dressed much more formally, yet tastefully. A dark blue pantsuit perfectly accentuated her chiseled figure, while a white blouse and red tie added a touch of femininity. I looked almost identical, only my suit and blouse were a deep black, matching my comfortable low-heeled shoes and small clutch. Our clothing styles made my relationship with my mother undeniable. I’d long ago noticed that as I grew older, I was becoming more and more like a certain blue-eyed baroness, and it only made me happy. At one point, I was so fed up with talk of my resemblance to the Blacks that I even considered dyeing my hair platinum, but my mother managed to talk me out of it. I’m a Hellsing, and how I look doesn’t matter.
As our plane landed, I imagined how the Hogwarts students and professors would react if I returned to school with platinum blonde hair. And what if I donned blue contacts, too… Putting the stunned faces of Dumbledore and the Prince out of my mind, I slowly began to get ready. Walter had just “parked” near one of the terminals. Pulling a small suitcase from the shelf, I mentally took inventory of it. Besides a change of clothes and other small items, it contained a small arsenal. Surely I couldn’t leave the house without an assault rifle and a couple of phosphorus grenades? And the RPG and storm shield were just a coincidence, honestly! I wasn’t worried about customs; the highest aristocracy of the Empire doesn’t have to go through it, just like passport control. Sometimes it’s nice to feel a little more equal before the law.
The first to set foot on French soil were the Order’s battlemages accompanying us, four veterans in reinforced armor, draped with weapons and artifacts like Christmas trees. These stern and silent Hellsing warriors had a demeanor that said, “We don’t know how to joke around and we won’t let anyone else,” but they were more of a decorative element. Victoria and Walter, our companions, could have caused a local Armageddon, but a baroness’s status requires her to have armed guards, especially when visiting a foreign country, otherwise they won’t understand. Tradition, sir.
We also left the comfortable cabin and, after waiting for the fighters to take us into the “box,” headed to the airport, where we were supposed to be met. The weather was sunny and windless, but the noise of the other planes made conversation useless, so we walked the few hundred meters in thoughtful silence.
The airport doors cut off outside noise, and finding myself in silence, I glanced around the spacious hall and then spotted the delegate greeting me. The others noticed him too: the fighters raised their weapons, Victoria grinned predatorily, Walter unsheathed his translucent threads, and Mom smiled and nodded in greeting. Waiting for us in the empty terminal was a huge fellow, dressed in a white cassock and gray cloak. I couldn’t help but recognize the Vatican’s Chief Inquisitor; such personalities are simply unforgettable. Seriously, compared to this “holy father,” our fighters looked like schoolchildren in costume, so large and massive was he.
“Integra Hellsing and her vicious spawn, what a disgusting encounter!” The Inquisitor grinned cheerfully and ruffled his short gray hair with a huge hand. “I won’t keep you long.”
“Alexander Anderson, unfortunately, you’re still alive.” Mom smiled cheerfully. “Did the old pedophile decide to send a message through his obedient dog again?”
“As always, impudent and rude…” The big guy moved towards us. “What else would you expect from a vile heretic and champion of a false faith?”
“Perhaps we should skip the welcoming speeches and get straight to the point?” Integra also took a step forward. “We’re in a hurry, and I have no desire to waste time looking at your disgusting mug.”
“Likewise.” The Vatican representative stopped opposite us and looked down at us. “Then let’s dispense with unnecessary formalities; it will be easier for your meager mind to grasp the meaning of my words.”
“When did you learn to write yourself?” Mom looked skeptically at the big guy. “I heard that the old pedophile’s decrees for your sharashka are still being drawn as engravings.”
“One day I’ll cut out your insolent tongue!” Anderson adjusted the massive Catholic cross on his massive chest and turned his gaze to Victoria. “But I’m here on business. First, keep your stupid little beast on a short leash, otherwise you won’t return home, at least not in one piece.” A bloodthirsty grin appeared on the inquisitor’s face.
“Are you threatening me?” Mom smiled slyly in response and lit a cigarette. “Although, what did I expect from a brood of cowardly fanatics accustomed to fighting against women and children?”
“Secondly, I would like to speak with your daughter.” The Inquisitor ignored the insult. “Consider this my personal request. I swear by the Creator that I will not harm the fruit of your sin.”
“Only in my presence.” Mom looked at her interlocutor with disgust. “And only if she herself wishes it.”
– Father Anderson. – I stepped forward and curtsied. – Yes, I’m listening.
“You’ve even learned some manners, unlike your mother.” The big man chuckled contentedly and dropped to one knee in front of me, but even so, I looked up at him. “Vicious child, I know you attend that abominable Hogwarts. May this bastion of sin burn in purifying flames! Well, as the head of the Thirteenth Department of the Holy Inquisition, ‘Iscariot,’ I’ve heard rumors that last year the Philosopher’s Stone was found within the walls of this diabolical haven. Answer me, without lying, is it true?”
“That’s right, this abomination was kept in the school all year.” I saw no point in lying; maybe it would help the Inquisition get Flamel. “But now the Philosopher’s Stone has returned to its owner, how and when exactly, I don’t know.”
“Thank you, I’m very grateful to you, child of vice and false faith.” Anderson nodded politely and continued thoughtfully: “So the damned atheist survived, and that means…”
“Almost too late! Thank Merlin, I made it!” The Inquisitor was interrupted by a loud male voice that echoed throughout the terminal. “Jean, don’t fall behind!”
To see the screaming man, I had to step aside, as the Vatican representative’s massive figure blocked my entire view. A plump, blond wizard, dressed in a black robe and a brown suit with yellow stripes, was running toward us, mincing quickly on short legs. In this attire, he resembled an overfed bumblebee, and his red, out-of-breath face only added to the picture. Following behind the plump man was a tall, skinny man in a black top hat and a tightly wrapped green robe.
– Phew… I made it… Sorry! – “Bumblebee” unceremoniously pushed the Inquisitor away and stood in front of me with a stupid smile. – Oh, these Muggles and their stupid ban on Apparation at air ports… Give me a minute… – The wizard rested his hands on his knees. – Now I’ll catch my breath and then we’ll continue… Jean, where are you?!
“You filthy heretic!” Anderson stood up and glared at the wizard. “What do you think you’re doing?!”
“I take it you’re Rigel Hellsing?” Bumblebee pointed a finger at me, completely ignoring the enraged Inquisitor. “Allow me to introduce myself: Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports of Magical Britain. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ll be representing and accompanying you at the championship. You have no idea what an honor this is! Our country has ignored this momentous competition for so many years…”
“You impudent atheist!” A long sword with a strange hilt materialized in the inquisitor’s hand. “I’ve killed for lesser insolence…”
“Excuse me?” Bagman turned to the Vatican representative. “Did you say something?”
The British wizard’s face was so childishly naive, his smile so silly, that Anderson couldn’t raise a hand against the wretched man and, clenching his teeth, dispelled his weapon. Yeah, I understand him perfectly. Holy Scripture forbids harming the poor, the blessed, and the foolish, and this “Bumblebee” had pulled off a combo! Only a mentally ill person could have such a moronic and naive look!
“You lack manners, mage,” the formidable inquisitor muttered through clenched teeth.
– Exactly! I completely forgot! Forgive my ignorance, it’s all from excitement. – Bagman theatrically slapped his forehead with his palm and turned to me. – Miss Hellsing, would you like to introduce us to your companions?
“Of course,” I smiled cheerfully in response and began introducing those gathered. “My mother is Integra Hellsing, my adopted sister is Victoria Seras, our butler is Walter Dornez, and this,” I nodded towards the inquisitor, “is Father Alexander Anderson.”
“Father?!” Bagman froze in surprise for a few seconds, then pulled a crumpled sheet of parchment from his pocket, unfolded it, and reread the contents. “The Ministry statement only lists my mother, oh well, we’ll fix that now…” The wizard, smiling contentedly, pulled out a quill and looked at Anderson, who was taken aback. “State your full name and occupation; we need it for the Department of Family Relations and for…”
“He’s not my father!” I turned to the obtuse official who had initiated the adoption process.
– What? You said it yourself… – Bagman looked at me in confusion, and then it dawned on him, his mouth even dropped open and his eyes bulged. – So that’s it! That’s why that man was on his knees! I’ve witnessed the return of the prodigal father! You should be ashamed of yourself, Mister… What’s your name again?
– For what? – The Inquisitor, to put it mildly, was shocked by such an attack, as were the rest of those present.
“What do you mean?!” The ministry official stamped his foot and shook his finger at the cleric. “He abandoned a pregnant woman, and as soon as he found out the child had become famous, he immediately showed up! Shame on such a father! His name and occupation?!” The parchment and quill were still in his hands.
“Mr. Bagman,” I tugged Bumblebee by the sleeve and began explaining like I was a child. “You’ve misunderstood. Father Anderson is a representative of the Catholic Church and came here on behalf of the Vatican. He is not my biological father and never was.”
“Are you sure?” Bagman waited for my nod and sighed sadly, putting the parchment in his pocket. “It’s a shame… A real shame… That would have been such a story for the press… I can just picture the headlines in the newspapers: ‘Rigel Hellsing not only became the youngest member of PHALLOS, but also found a father!'”
– What member? – My eye twitched, and I mentally prepared myself.
“All participants in the competition automatically become honorary members of the Fencing Association of Legendary Leaders of Dangerous Competitions, and that’s a tremendous honor!” Bagman blurted out. “One of the representatives of PHALLOS, an excellent swordsman and a good friend of mine, Jean-Baptiste Ssikolotje, just arrived with me. Please love him and favor him!”
The British official turned with a satisfied smile, then frowned, as his friend with the telling surname was no longer there. The pale Frenchman stood far behind, about ten meters away, shaking all over and staring unblinkingly at Father Anderson.
“Jean, what’s wrong?” Bagman turned to his comrade. “It’s like I saw a Dementor.”
– A-A-Anderson… – Ssikolotye squeezed out. – I-i-inquisition…
“So what next?” The British wizard shrugged in confusion and chuckled. “The Inquisition, Hellsing, what’s the difference? We’re representing an international sporting event, by the way, and sport is above politics! Come join us, I’ll introduce you to my new friends; they don’t bite!”
“You don’t understand…” The Frenchman continued to stand still. “This is Iscariot, section thirteen.”
“A familiar word…” Bagman looked thoughtfully at the Inquisitor, then frowned. “I remember… Your comrades, dare I say it, barbarians, disrupted the Quidditch World Cup final in Budapest in 1585, and prevented the Gobstones Championship from being held in Rome in 1666! How can you be so ignorant and not love sports?!”
“That was a long time ago, when the morals were completely different…” Anderson replied thoughtfully. “Since the adoption of the Statute, we’ve tried not to interfere in the affairs of the atheists. On your own lands, you’re free to do whatever you want, but outside of it…”
“That’s great! I knew right away that you’re a great guy, Alex!” The British mage began shaking the inquisitor’s hand, simultaneously feeling his bicep. “We athletes are easy to spot: our movements, our posture, our figure, you know what I mean. What are your hobbies? Where did you build those muscles? Any special techniques?”
“I have to go.” Anderson gently pulled away from the eccentric Brit and nodded politely to our group. “Integra, remember the leash. Child of Sin, thank you again. I hope our next meeting will take place in a more comfortable atmosphere, perhaps at the funeral of your Saracen family.”
“Likewise.” Mom threw the cigarette butt at the feet of the Vatican representative. “But not before the old pedophile dances the cancan on your grave.”
“Goodbye,” I waved at the big guy with my sweetest smile. “Daddy.”
Hearing the last word, the inquisitor shuddered, then laughed very loudly and, turning on his heels, quickly headed for the airport exit.
“He’s a good guy, I can smell one a mile away. Sigh… I’d love to sit down with him in the pub and have a few drinks…” Bagman muttered, eyeing Anderson’s broad back. “It’s a good thing I slipped him a ticket to the championship, maybe he’ll come…”
“Finally, that Dementor’s offspring is gone,” a Frenchman approached our group. “Just a little more and I would have chopped him into pieces!”
“Should I call him?” I turned to Ssikolotye with a sly smile. “In the meantime, get the blade ready.”
– N-no need! – The cowardly frog waved his hands. – N-no need to exacerbate the already strained relations with these fanatics.
“Jean, we didn’t come here to fight.” Bumblebee patted his comrade on the shoulder. “Let’s begin the ceremony! I love all these awards ceremonies!”
“You’re right, ahem…” The Frenchman cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, smiled, and looked at me. “Miss Hellsing, I, Jean-Baptiste Ssykolotje, solemnly induct you into the orderly and unyielding ranks of PHALLOS and present you with this diploma of honorary membership!”
Having finished his ceremonial speech, the wizard pulled a large green wooden box from his pocket and handed it to me. Inside was a sheet of expensive parchment bearing the coat of arms and seal of the French Ministry of Magic, along with a small silver badge in the shape of two crossed swords.
“Thank you.” I accepted the gift with a smile and carefully put it away in my clutch.
“Mademoiselle Hellsing, may I ask?” Meanwhile, the Frenchman looked over our soldiers, lingering briefly on Victoria, and then turned to my mother. “Are all these people with you?”
“No, we were just passing by, and we bought the Hellsing uniform and weapons at Duty Free.” The vampiress was tired of remaining silent. “What business is it of yours?”
“My dear Miss, there’s no need to ruin such a wonderful meeting!” Ludo Bagman stood up for his comrade. “It’s just that the hosts, the French Ministry of Magic, have reserved a cozy room for you at the Bleudeville Hotel, but it’s a double.”
“And now I don’t know where to house your retinue,” Jean continued. “Although… Two blocks to the south there’s a reliable dormitory; they even regularly exterminate parasites there.”
“Gentlemen, I’m very grateful for your concern, but there was no need to worry,” Mom said to the wizards with a smile. “We’ve already booked rooms at the Four Seasons Hotel.”
“Mademoiselle has taste,” the Frenchman nodded respectfully. “Then I recommend having dinner at La Blyady, a wonderful restaurant located just nearby.”
– Thank you, Monsieur Ssykolotje, – Walter replied. – We will certainly visit him.
“Is that somewhere on the Muggle side?” Ludo asked Jean in a loud whisper, and when he nodded, he broke into a satisfied smile. “Then we’re done for today! Tomorrow at three o’clock in the afternoon, I’ll be waiting for you at the Montpensier restaurant, and then we’ll head to the Arena!”
– At three? – I looked at Bagman skeptically. – Not too late?
“Just right, the French love to sleep!” The wizard continued to smile. “We’ll even have time to have lunch. Well, that’s it, we won’t keep you any longer.”
– Goodbye. – I said goodbye to the wizards on behalf of all of them.
“See you tomorrow!” “Bumblebee” waved cheerfully at us and, hugging his friend, pulled him toward the exit. “Jean, let’s collect the money for the room and head straight to that casino, remember…”
“What a madhouse…” Victoria watched the delegates as they arrived. “I’ve been in this country for less than half an hour, and I already want to kill someone!”
– Yes sir! – The senior lieutenant from the escort fighters agreed.
“And I want ice cream,” I looked at my mother pitifully. “Creme brûlée or vanilla.”
– Me too! – My little sister appeared behind me and hugged me tightly. – We’ll have a double portion.
“Captain Seras, call off the circus!” Mom barked at the vampire and looked tiredly at the butler. “Walter, let’s go to the hotel.”
“Absolutely.” The faithful servant nodded solemnly. “Should we order ice cream on the spot or stop at a kiosk on the way?”
***
The regime is a terrible thing, so even in my new place, I woke up sharp at six in the morning, fortunately there’s no time zone difference between the Empire and France. Stretching, I sprawled out on the huge bed like a starfish and took a satisfied look around the luxurious apartment—a presidential suite, after all. The opulent decor didn’t interest me much, but the morning view from the window delighted my eyes; the Eiffel Tower was in full view. Yesterday, I finally climbed to the top of the legendary iron contraption and looked down on the French capital from above. Yeah, motherfucker!
After checking into the hotel, I wanted to explore Paris; I was so busy I couldn’t sit in my room and get bored. My mother was frankly too lazy and afraid to let me go with Victoria, so she chose Walter, who, as it turned out, knew the French capital very well. Walter happily acted as my tour guide and took me to iconic and memorable sites until the evening, sharing many interesting things along the way. Thanks to this, I managed to visit Notre Dame Cathedral, admire the Arc de Triomphe, and admire the Luxembourg Gardens. Finally, we enjoyed the sunset from the top of the Eiffel Tower and ate ice cream. It was a gorgeous day.
That evening, having worked up an appetite, we reunited with the others and headed to the restaurant recommended by the French official. The place was truly worthwhile, the service and atmosphere were excellent, but the haute French cuisine left me disappointed. I didn’t like the vaunted bouillabaisse, the regular fish soup was much tastier, and there were no shellfish floating around there. The divine foie gras turned out to be just a regular pâté, and I wouldn’t even mention the snails and oysters—how could anyone eat such disgusting things?! Not only were some of the dishes inedible, smelly, and reminiscent of snot, but the portions were so tiny! I’m a young, growing person, which means I need to eat a lot! And here? What a mess… Luckily, on the way back, I found a shawarma place, and I was able to eat properly.
For about ten minutes, I savored the sweet languor and basked in the rays of the dawn sun, but soon I grew tired of it and jumped out of bed. After stretching sweetly, I stood in the middle of the spacious bedroom and began my exercises, my body itching with anticipation of the workout. I finished the stretching in a split position, then smoothly transitioned to a push-up position. Running wouldn’t be possible today, so we’ll be working on my biceps. I’m thinking ten sets of 100, followed by the same amount of abs and pull-ups, and squats, of course.
For some, such figures would seem unrealistic or fantastical, but not for me. I’ve long been accustomed to the fact that a wizard’s body is many times stronger, more resilient, and more resilient than that of an ordinary person. I used to think it was all thanks to magic, that it strengthened the body and so on, but it turned out to be much more complicated. One day, I got into a conversation with Smethwick, and he told me that, according to research, wizards are the next stage of human evolution! Fact! Wizards differ from ordinary people at the genetic level! And these aren’t Nazi rants, but pure science. As proof, the mediwizard showed me numerous differences, from the structure of their nervous system to the structure of their muscle fibers. That’s why sorcerers, without a magical core, are much stronger and faster than ordinary people, and also much more resilient.
As I was already doing pull-ups on the transfigured bar, I thought about the paucity of wizards and, I think, found an answer to this question, or at least several. Firstly, a properly functioning magical pregnancy required a magical background, which is extremely scarce; on our planet, it’s extremely rarefied, and the areas of concentration are scattered like oases in a desert. Secondly, wizards themselves prevented their own numbers from increasing; those idiots lived in isolation and preferred to mate only with their own kind, although they could have had normal offspring with mundanes. I sometimes found it funny to hear pureblood assholes say they didn’t have a drop of Muggle blood in their family tree. Seriously?! Did your ancestor grow on a tree or was he found in a cabbage patch?! Absolutely every family is founded by a gifted first-generation member, a Mudblood by modern racist standards, but that happened so long ago that everyone has forgotten. So purebreds boast about their origins, they have nothing else to boast about, idiots, ugh!
Spitting, I jumped off the bar, caught my breath a bit, and headed to the bathroom, my hot and sweaty body crying out for a contrast shower. I could ponder the demographics and society of wizards for hours, but did I really need it? Let the rulers worry about that, while I was currently wondering what they were having for breakfast and how the tournament draw would go. So, putting philosophical thoughts out of my mind, I began to tidy myself up.
Having changed into a gray pantsuit, I opened the door to my room and made eye contact with one of the security guards. Mom hadn’t been stingy and had rented an entire floor, so our men were posted in the hallway. They had also placed protective artifacts in the rooms and booby-trapped the stairwells, just in case. And the opportunity was right under my window, in the form of a Holy Inquisition jeep—those fanatics weren’t even thinking about hiding! Yesterday, as a prank, I even treated them to shawarma, and I saved their shocked faces in a separate folder in my memory.
– Hey, Jug, how are you? – I smiled at the veteran.
“Good morning, Lady Rigel!” The soldier adjusted his machine gun and, smiling, gave me a military salute. “Everything is so excellent that it’s even boring.”
– Did you have breakfast?
“You’re insulting me. You can’t fight on an empty stomach.” The senior lieutenant stroked his stomach dramatically. “The hotel chefs cook excellent food.”
– Okay then… – I sighed in disappointment. – I was about to share my dessert with you, but since you’re full…
– Who said that? – The warrior stood at attention. – Lady Rigel, when have I ever refused a second helping? Can I…
– I’ll grab some for Jim too. – I nodded in response. – Don’t be bored.
“I serve the Order!” The veteran slammed his fist into his heart, an action only permitted to Hellsing officers.
Nodding in response, I headed to the dining room. Imitating my mother, I tried to memorize the names and faces of all our soldiers, building trusting and friendly relationships with them along the way. Many years ago, this behavior saved a little blonde who had hung around the barracks among the soldiers since childhood. Her uncle, also my great-uncle, knew that the Hellsing soldiers adored little Integra, and if he gave the order to eliminate her, he would die on the spot. So the greedy shit-eater arrived at the estate with hired thugs, but they were too stupid to immediately kill the nimble and agile girl, and then she woke Alucard… In the end, everything ended well, well, except for the fate of the old power-hungry man and a couple of high-ranking officers; all that scum doesn’t even count.
In the dining room, they were already waiting for me. Besides my mother and Victoria, Sergei and Maria were sitting at the table, as well as a gaunt old man accompanied by a young, dark-haired man. The men stood up and nodded respectfully when I appeared, and the youngest one left the table and gallantly pulled out a chair for me next to the vampire.
– Thank you. – Sitting down, I smiled sweetly at the cute guy. – I am very grateful.
“London is the capital of the British Empire!” the handsome man answered with a terrible accent. “My name is Boris, my last name is Shipitko. How are you? Good evening.”
“Star, Boris has a real anti-talent for languages, so speak Russian,” Black turned to me and switched to the great and mighty. “By the way, meet your future opponent, Boris Shipitko, and his great-great-great-grandfather, Diomid Ivanovich Shipitko, three times Hero of the Soviet Union, by the way.”
– Nice to meet you, – I answered in Russian. – Nice to meet you.
“Likewise,” the guy replied, blushing as he sat back down. “Always at your service.”
Nodding, I quickly examined the guests, as I’d been taught. My future opponent was tall, broad-shouldered, athletically built, with a military-style haircut, aristocratic and regular features—all in all, a handsome man. Sharma added to his appearance with a scar across his right eyebrow and a missing earlobe on the same side, and, of course, his dress uniform. His empathy exuded a mixture of good nature and embarrassment. His older relative looked at me with interest and amusement, even malice. The old man looked about sixty or seventy, with short hair and completely gray hair, and his wrinkled face was pockmarked with scars. But age didn’t stop the old officer from sitting up straight and deftly handling cutlery; he was clearly no stranger to manners, just like his grandson. I also glanced at the old man’s awards and almost choked on my scrambled eggs—there were so many, so many, even a Tsarist medal for the capture of Shipka! Now that’s a real superhero, not some comic-book clown.
“She’s a good-looking girl, and when she grows up…” Senior Shipitko finished examining me and nodded contentedly. “Borka, should I prepare a letter of intent?”
– Grandpa… – The guy blushed even more and looked like an overripe tomato. – Well, not so quickly…
“By the time you get ready, I’ll start sniffing daisies from underground!” The old man slammed his palm on the table and looked at Mom. “Lady Hellsing, please accept my formal request for my idiot to court your beautiful daughter.”
“I allow it, I won’t interfere.” Mom smiled slyly in response. “But I won’t insist either.”
“That’s what we agreed on.” Diomede looked at me warmly. “Rigel, will you allow my grandson to court you?”
– Maybe… – I was so surprised that I didn’t know what to answer. He’s a nice guy, of course, but…
“That’s great.” The old man patted his grandson on the shoulder. “Borya, don’t disgrace my gray head.”
– Diomid Ivanovich, isn’t it a bit early? – Black stood up for me. – Zvezdochka is only twelve.
“Not just yet, but already! Look at those hips, she’s fully formed, which means it’s time to get married!” Shipitko drew himself up in a businesslike manner and, with a wave of his hand, conjured a huge samovar out of thin air. “Sofia and I were married when I turned fourteen, and she was twelve then too, and nothing happened. A year later she gave birth to her first child, and then seven more. And Borka is already a whole seventeen, long overdue for a family, while all he can think of are stars and spaceships!”
– Cough-cough! – Mom choked on her bacon and started coughing.
While Walter was helping the Baroness, everyone else was looking in bewilderment at the sly pensioner who had already sealed my fate and practically married off his grandson. Shipitko, however, didn’t give a damn about our looks; he calmly brewed tea in the samovar, then filled his cup and took a long sip with a wry smile. Only now did it dawn on me that the old man was just joking; his empathy exuded a cheerful good nature. The old man looked at my mother with the most serious eyes and burst into loud laughter, and his laughter was so infectious that within five minutes everyone at the table was laughing.
“Well, Diomid Ivanovich…” Black grumbled, having finished laughing. “You’re a fucking joker…”
“I couldn’t resist… Sorry.” The old warrior smiled slyly and pointed at the samovar. “You’d be better off trying some Ivan-tea; I prepared it myself.”
“It was very…” Mom calmed down and, tilting her head to the shoulder, looked at the elderly joker. “Unexpected.”
– Bon appétit, everyone. – I decided to stop talking about my marriage; it was too early to think about it.
“Likewise.” An embarrassed Borya nodded politely in response.
Throughout breakfast, a blushing young man served me plates and tried his best to please, and his empathy radiated warmth and kindness. Overall, it was a pleasant experience. And when it came to tea, the conversation turned to a pressing topic, and everyone immediately became serious.
“So, there’s a fragment of Tom’s soul wandering around your castle?” Shipitko drank from the saucer and reached for a pretzel. “And I told him…”
– Did you know him? – I looked at the old man in disbelief. – From where?
“That brat came to the Union, always looking for power… Idiot… So we revealed our secrets… Just like that…” The old man waved his hand and started chewing his pastry. “He kept pretending to be a poor orphan and was so polite, it was sickening… And when I offered him military service in exchange for knowledge, he bolted that very day. Cowardly brat.”
– That’s clear, but what to do? – I interrupted the old man. – How to catch him?
“No way, he’ll show up on his own.” Shipitko smiled. “Tom’s a very smart boy, but very vain. That jerk is subconsciously convinced of his superiority over everyone, so just wait. Sooner or later he’ll screw up something…”
– What if? – Mom tensed and leaned forward.
“What a stupid girl, no ifs!” The combat-ready pensioner snorted. “He’s not a moron, so he won’t touch your daughter and her entourage. What the hell does he need that for? Why the extra attention?! He knows perfectly well they’ll dig him out and drown him in the nearest outhouse.”
– And the Chamber of Secrets? – I asked a question. – He woke the guard.
“Most likely an accident.” Black pulled out a cigarette case and shared some nicotine with the platinum blonde. “The Slytherin Hall is perfectly shielded and ideal for the resurrection ritual. It does require the sacrifice of sentient beings, so the energy surge would be enough to raise the alarm at the Ministry. And under Hogwarts, no one would even notice.”
“Seryozha’s right, that asshole’s doing the right thing so far,” Shipitko nodded. “And your sorcerer really could have been taken over by some disgruntled seniors; there’s no point in stopping them from making out.”
– Maybe that’s enough? – Victoria caught my attention. – We’ve been discussing this Hogwarts for two hours already!
“And what do you propose?” Shipitko looked at the girl thoughtfully. “Speak, beauty.”
“Let’s go for a walk!” the vampire beamed. “There’s still plenty of time, and the city really is beautiful!”
“That’s what it means to be a smart woman. It’s a shame she’s busy.” The old man nodded respectfully. “Let’s have a chat, stop sitting within four walls!”
We didn’t object, and as a friendly group we left the hotel and headed towards the magical quarter, where Ludo Bagman and his friend Ssikolotye were waiting for us.
