Chapter 87
Warning! Contains particularly violent scenes!
Elvira jerked to her senses, as if struck, though it was as if her left cheekbone was on fire. The girl jerked and received a blow to the stomach, manageable; in training, she’d received far more painful blows from Rigel or Hermione. But the next serve was much harder, and the second-year hadn’t fully recovered yet, so she hadn’t had time to brace herself. A throbbing pain shot through her stomach, causing her to double over and cough. If Smith hadn’t been hungry, she would have vomited, but her stomach was empty, and she managed to keep her composure.
“Earl, who treats a lady like that? You’re a gentleman.” A mocking male voice rang out. “You’ll get your shoes dirty on that animal.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” a haughty voice answered. “It’s just so nice.”
The girl’s head took another blow and began to throb. Elvira began to analyze the situation, but it was difficult; everything that was happening seemed like a dream, but her sensations told her otherwise. First, the young Gryffindor felt the cold stone floor on which she lay; someone had even thoughtfully laid down some thin, thick fabric. The girl jerked and realized her hands were tightly bound behind her back, but she could move her legs; they were left free. The black-haired witch’s mind began to clear, and she slowly sat up on her bottom, silently studying her surroundings. There was no point in saying anything; the second-year was beginning to fully realize the depth of the ass she found herself in.
Elvira found herself in a deserted but clean and tidy classroom; even the candles in the chandeliers were still lit. The windows were thoughtfully covered with thick, dark green curtains, probably to avoid attracting attention from the street. The surviving desks had been lovingly repaired, the chairs had been transformed into upholstered armchairs, and a large four-poster bed sat in the far corner. Near the bed were strange implements that the girl easily recognized as torture devices, such as stocks, a rack, and a Spanish horse. Yet the classroom was extremely clean, without a speck of dust, and the floor was so polished you could eat off it. Someone had clearly done their homework, and that someone was sitting across from her.
Three older students from the House of Snakes sat on the soft armchairs, their faces filled with contentment and anticipation. The central figure was lanky and slightly stooped, with blond hair. To his left sat a skinny, dark-haired runt, and to his right sat a plump, red-haired boy with wide lips on a freckled, round face. The Slytherins wore school uniforms made of the most expensive fabric, and each of their hands adorned various rings. The boys’ appearances demonstrated the wealth and prosperity of their families. Of the three, the girl recognized only one—Macmillan; his younger brother was in Hufflepuff. Back in their first year, at Rigel’s request, she had memorized all the members of the “Sacred 28,” meaning his colleagues came from young but very wealthy families. The girl was terrified; Laurie had described to her in detail how such bastards entertained themselves.
Smith mentally reached for the Portkey, but it didn’t work. She knew the artifact couldn’t penetrate Hogwarts’ wards, but what if?! The girl twitched again, but the magical bonds held her tightly. Unfortunately, unlike her friends, she didn’t possess a wandless Finite. Otherwise, she would have already used the pistol or wand hidden in the holster attached to her wrist. Cursing silently, Elvira turned her gaze to the condemned men, and she had no doubt that they were future corpses. When Rigel finds out, and she certainly will, these three will die; her liege lord has a special hatred for rapists.
And then a chill ran down the girl’s spine and the hairs on her body stood on end. She realized: her green-eyed friend was far away, and those bastards were close by, and who knew what they had in store for her. A slight tremor ran through her body, and a lump formed in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Her greatest childhood fear was about to come true – now she was alone and at the complete mercy of three grown men, and judging by their satisfied expressions, they were planning something very nasty.
All this time, the girl was left untouched; the moral monsters sat calmly across from her, admiring their victim’s struggles to free herself. They especially enjoyed the expressions on the Mudbloods’ faces as they fully grasped their situation. The noble heirs expected the Mad Bitch’s dog to start screaming, threatening, or begging for mercy, but she merely studied their faces intently. The vile Mudblood tried to maintain a straight face, but her eyes showed she was terrified.
Soon, the older students grew tired of staring at their prey, and Paul Macmillan rose lazily from his chair. The girl immediately realized he was the leader of this gang, as his underlings continued to watch their leader’s actions with interest. Meanwhile, the Slytherin walked up to her with a relaxed gait and squatted down in front of her. Only then did the girl notice that he was clutching a light brown wand. He glanced at her with a haughty air and, with an air of pretentiousness, pulled a silver cigarette case from his pocket and, with equal air, lit a cigarette, “showing off” a gold lighter. The pureblood heir slowly inhaled and spat smoke into her face.
“Good evening, Miss Smith.” A malicious smile appeared on the boy’s face. “Forgive me for such a warm welcome, but animal-born creatures deserve no other treatment.”
With these words, the Slytherin took another drag, then stubbed out the half-smoked cigarillo on her cheek. The girl felt intense pain and a burning sensation, but she restrained herself and didn’t scream, even when the smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Her tormentor had expected a different reaction, and a look of obvious displeasure and annoyance crossed his face.
“And you, I see, have character.” Macmillan broke into a satisfied smile and touched the burn site with the tip of his wand. “Even more interesting this way!”
“Why?” the girl whispered.
– She’s still asking! – the weakling exclaimed. – You’re filth! You’re trash! You’re a pathetic animal! People like you should be serving us – the purebloods! Know your place, mudblood!
“Ister, please be quiet.” Her tormentor turned to his comrade. “Don’t you see? This animal-born woman and I are trying to make small talk, and you’re interrupting.”
“I’m sorry, Paul,” the dark-haired man apologized. “I couldn’t help myself, I just…”
“I understand everything.” Macmillan interrupted the shouter and turned to Elvira. “My friend wanted to say that your behavior is unacceptable in our society. First, you became a vassal of the Hellsing family, and then you had the audacity to become our dean’s apprentice. Can you imagine the disappointment I felt? For someone of your background, such behavior is unacceptable.”
“What are you messing around with her for?” the round-faced man intervened. “Let’s get her done quickly and then go to bed.” We’ve been keeping an eye on this scum for hours.
“Everything in its time, my friend,” the leader replied without turning around. “So, my younger brother is very talented in potions and gets excellent grades, but our head of house, the youngest Potions Master in a hundred years, took a pathetic mudblood as an apprentice!” The Slytherin shouted and punched her in the face, sending Elvira crashing to the floor again. “I’m the one asking why?!”
– Because… – Elvira spat out blood and smiled, – you, victims of incest, are stupid degenerates.
“There’s no need to resort to insults, Miss Smith. You’re speaking to the noble heirs of pureblood families.” Macmillan’s wand touched the girl’s lips and a stinging curse erupted, quite painful. “You have no right to speak to us like that. You’re nothing but stinking trash from a roadside ditch.”
“The dog’s probably hoping for help from its owner,” the round-faced man laughed. “But she won’t be here! Tomorrow the Mad Bitch will die!”
– That’s for sure! Sosoni killed all his rivals and Hellsing is next. – The weakling stood up and, walking over, spat in the girl’s face. – There’s no one else to stand up for you. And if you’re counting on that curly-haired bitch, we’ll put her in her place too. Paul, I’m sorry, but I can’t speak politely to animal-born creatures; my pride won’t allow it.
“I can barely contain myself, but my father taught me from childhood to be polite to ladies, even if they’re Mudbloods.” Macmillan chuckled cheerfully. “My friends want to tell you that Miss Hellsing made a fatal mistake when she agreed to participate in such a dangerous competition. Mr. Zabini assured everyone that his cousin will definitely win, and I have no doubt about it. And that means that tomorrow you will be left without your mistress’s protection.”
“And even if the Mad Bitch survives, you still won’t tell anyone anything.” The round-faced man’s voice was deadly serious. “Paul is an apprentice in mental magic, so he’ll thoroughly erase your memories, and you won’t remember a thing in the morning. But we’ll remember…” The Slytherin ran a greasy glance over her. “And we’ll definitely repeat it, more than once.”
“Curtis, why are you getting our toy’s hopes up too early?” The head Slytherin looked at his comrade with mock sadness. “Zabini bet 1000 Galleons on my cousin’s victory, so there’s no need to worry about that. And as for you…” The sadist looked at the girl with disdain, and the tip of his wand touched her chin. “I generously give you the right to choose. Either you voluntarily get on your knees and give me a good working with your pretty mouth. I promise we won’t even pull out your teeth, and then we might even escort you to the common room. Or, I promise, I’ll torture you until you’re hoarse from screaming and shouting, and then we’ll still lubricate your sore throat with our semen.”
“Suck each other off.” Elvira spat at the Slytherin. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but her bloody saliva got down his collar. “Poor faggots.”
A searing pain engulfed the girl’s face, and then, with a sickening crunch, two front teeth flew out of her mouth, as if they had been pulled out with claws. The pain brought tears to her eyes, and to keep from screaming, the Gryffindor bit her lip until it bled, but still let out a soft moan. At that moment, a round-faced man approached Elvira and, grabbing her by the hair, forced her to her knees. She tried to kick, earning a powerful blow to the back of the head. While the recalcitrant girl’s consciousness was swimming, the tormentors quickly and skillfully, using magic, cut through her robes and school uniform. The young wizards tossed the resulting tattered garments into a corner of the room, where their victim’s school bag was already lying. The only clothes the second-year student had left were the strong shackles that tied her hands behind her back and black shoes, she realized this when her consciousness cleared up a little.
Elvira flinched, but the round-faced man had her hair wrapped tightly around his fist, and his knee was pressing into her back. Macmillan smirked contentedly, and his wand began to glide over her naked body, stopping just short of her small, nascent breasts. A silver beam shot from the tip of the concentrator, and the girl felt genuine pain; the beam of the curse hit a very sensitive spot, and she couldn’t bear it any longer and let out a soft cry.
“Excellent, simply excellent…” A lustful smile appeared on the torturer’s face. “Many believe that torture can only be performed using Crucio, but they are mistaken… Pain can be inflicted by a huge number of spells, and today you will see for yourself.” Macmillan waved his wand with affected flourish, and the skin on the Gryffindor’s chest burned as if from a red-hot iron. She screamed loudly from the unbearable pain. “I could do this until the morning, but I must admit, I’m tired and want to sleep. So I propose one last time: open your pretty mouth and serve us properly. Otherwise, it will hurt much more; Easter has a very rich imagination.”
To prove his point, Macmillan waved his wand, and another front tooth was ripped from the girl’s mouth. This time, Elvira held back and didn’t utter a sound. The round-faced man standing behind her didn’t like this, so his concentrator touched the second-year student’s fingers, and they began to break with a loud crunch. The weakling didn’t stand aside either, and with a satisfied smile, doused the girl’s naked body with boiling water. Unable to bear it, Elvira screamed loudly and began to kick, earning another blow to the back of the head.
The girl’s hair was tugged, and with a bleary gaze she saw the satisfied and excited faces of Macmillan and his weakling friend. The sadists were enjoying their victim’s agony and clearly had no intention of stopping. Elvira understood this perfectly well, but she didn’t give in; she wouldn’t allow herself to be violated! She barely felt the pain anymore, and her fear was beginning to fade, these feelings being displaced by the growing voices from beyond the brink. Under the torture, the young necromage began to lose control of herself and was holding on with all her might.
Elvira spat out a bloody saliva and looked at the gray cloth laid over the cold stone floor, revealing a vast cemetery somewhere deep beneath the castle. She recalled a recent conversation with Valentina, when she’d learned that Hogwarts was built on bones, just like Leningrad. For those times, the castle had been erected in record time, and to achieve this, the Founders had herded thousands of mundane laborers into the work. And since wizards were overseeing the construction, the mortality rate among the workers was colossal, and their bodies were buried right there, beneath the walls of the future school. “To make the foundation stronger,” her mentor had joked.
But it wasn’t a joke. Hogwarts felt like an old graveyard to Elvira, with death magic in abundance. If it weren’t for the huge number of ghosts feeding off this energy, she would have long ago gone crazy. These clumps of ectoplasm proved useful, slightly muffling the voices from beyond the brink, but they still sounded very loud and clear. Thanks to this pressure, Smith devoted all her free time to studying Occlumency and, in less than a year, caught up with her friends, if not surpassed them. Blocking out any outside noises became so much a habit that she effortlessly maintained a powerful mental shield 24/7. Sometimes even Professor Prince smashed against it when he tried to read her superficial thoughts, and at those moments, Elvira would always “accidentally” recall Captain Seras’s satisfied smile. This bloodthirsty monster, who pretended to be a sweet girl, was Rigel’s bodyguard, and now the Gryffindor dreamed of having a similar protector. He dreamed of a monster like that freeing the girl, then torturing those bastards long and painfully, and finally flaying them alive.
Elvira returned to reality and cast a bleary glance at her tormentors. The bastards had interpreted her momentary weakness in their own way—they’d decided she’d broken! The frustrated face of the weakling and the loosened grip of the chubby man behind her back spoke volumes. Macmillan cast her a satisfied glance and leisurely removed his pants. The leader of the gang of sadistic rapists finished undressing and levitated his robes and pants onto a chair. Then, with an anticipatory smile, he approached the girl, almost touching her. The Slytherin’s aroused, pulsating, sour-smelling member appeared before the Gryffindor’s face.
“Good girl…” The bastard stroked the back of Elvira’s head. “Now open your mouth and use your tongue, trust your instincts.”
The girl realized her helplessness, but she wasn’t about to give in. A clear thought entered her mind: such creatures shouldn’t breed and multiply! Macmillan made a characteristic movement with his hips, and the head of his device touched her lips. In response, the girl jerked forward and tried to bite off the organ at the root.
“Petrificus Totalus!” Suffocated stopped the Mudblood’s jaws from closing on his friend’s possession. “Paul, you owe me a keg of beer and a night at Mama Ro’s.”
“T-ten barrels…” The leader of the rapists swallowed and took a step back, his knees shaking. “Guys, don’t hold back! This animal needs to be put in its place!”
“As you say, Lord Macmillan,” the round-faced man chuckled and pushed the paralyzed girl forward. “You have fun, and I’ll have a snack; the girls’ screams stimulate my appetite.”
Elvira was kneeling, so when she fell, her nose hit the floor hard, but she didn’t pay any attention. The cause of her nascent panic was her nakedness, or rather her position: while her face was examining the fabric spread on the floor, someone was examining her charms! And yet, because of the curse, she couldn’t do anything! The rapists crowded behind her, breathing heavily, whispering something.
“Let’s see how she sings now…” Macmillan’s angry voice came from behind the girl. “The main thing is that she stays conscious, otherwise all the interest will be lost…”
Elvira didn’t see what her tormentors had planned, but a few seconds later, the distinctive whistle of a whip echoed through the classroom. The skin on her back was cut open all the way to her ribs, and the girl screamed in unbearable pain. The blows came one after another, and the canvas on which she lay was stained with scarlet splashes. Her consciousness began to fade, and her vision began to darken.
– Phew… I’m tired… – The weakling’s voice sounded like it was coming from behind. – Ister, it’s your turn…
The round-faced man muttered something, and for a moment the Gryffindor felt as if a bare piece of high-voltage wire had been shoved right inside her, turning on the current. The pain was unbearable, spreading throughout her body. A persistent smell of burnt meat filled the room, overpowered by the stench of excrement.
Ira’s ice cream-smeared face appeared before the second-year, and she smiled maliciously—the smile of a suicide bomber. Swallowing tears and shaking slightly, the girl completely let go of control and unleashed all the death energy she’d been absorbing for the past few months. Death was better than dishonor, and the Gryffindor decided to seek help from beyond. Elvira felt the boundary between realities fray and sent out a mental cry for help.
The answer came almost instantly. The voices in the girl’s head faded, as if they had scattered, and were replaced by something like the purring of a huge cat. The girl felt a grave-like chill beneath her feet and realized that something very evil and hungry had begun to penetrate this world. A terrible pain pierced her body again, and Elvira, closing her eyes, began to support the something, giving it all her remaining magic. In response, the half-trained necromage sensed something akin to gratitude and a promise not to harm, along with an unbearable feeling of hunger—perhaps this is how Rigel’s empathy works. In response, Smith mentally promised not to interfere and, clenching her teeth, continued to support her unexpected savior with magic.
From the shadow cast by the paralyzed girl, matte black tentacles emerged, seeming to absorb the surrounding light. At first, they were thin and barely noticeable, but soon, after a few moments, they began to thicken rapidly and gently wrapped themselves around the body of their summoner. For a split second, Elvira was startled, but quickly calmed down: the tentacles gently wrapped around her body, simultaneously bestowing warmth and dissolving the bonds that bound her.
– Paul, what the hell is this? – The second-year student heard the panicked voice of the weakling. – I’m out… A-A-A!!! Help!!!
For several minutes, Elvira savored the warmth of the tentacles enveloping her and the screams of terror from her attackers. Her entire body ached, but she knew she had to leave. As proof of this, she realized she could move her arms freely. On trembling legs, the Gryffindor rose to a standing position and, turning around, broke into a malicious smile. Black, matte tentacles wrapped around her attackers like anacondas or pythons around their prey, and the room echoed with cries of pain and despair, punctuated by the crunch of breaking bones. The bastards screamed in pain and kicked, but it was useless; the monster’s grip only tightened.
The black-haired girl watched with delight as one of the tentacles entered Macmillan’s arse. The bastard howled in one note and immediately shut up as another black appendage entered his throat, while the smaller ones penetrated his nostrils and ears. The rest of the Slytherins suffered a similar fate; something began to possess its victims, as if wanting to devour or impregnate them. She guessed the latter when she saw the characteristic back-and-forth movements of the black, pulsating appendages.
For a moment, Elvira watched, mesmerized, as the matte black tentacles wrapped around and devoured her attackers. She found the sight deeply satisfying. The Slytherins’ eyes radiated primal fear and terror, while something began to envelop them in a black, translucent cocoon. The Gryffindor would have continued to stare at this scene, but she felt uneasy; she felt the sepulchral chill emanating from the something intensify manifold. Shivering, she took a step toward the exit.
Her whole body ached, and her legs were giving way from incredible fatigue, but the girl wasn’t thinking about that. All her attention was focused on the creature she’d helped escape from beyond the brink. Elvira was terrified; she knew in her bones that it was something merciless, very strong, and terribly hungry.
The budding hysteria was interrupted by the black, matte monster itself, which had almost completely devoured her assailants, its numerous tentacles having penetrated all of the boys’ orifices. And so it turned to the scum that had released it into the world of the living.
“Go away.” Bright and emotional thought-images appeared in Smith’s head. “This is mine… There’s plenty of food around… I feel it… I’ll become stronger soon… I won’t touch you… Gratitude…”
Elvira didn’t need to be told twice; she was already beginning to comprehend what had happened and was on the verge of hysteria. The voice in her head brought her back to her senses a little, and she grabbed her school bag and the rags of her clothes and ran out of the classroom.
***
An ancient monster lay on a huge bed, eyes closed, with a naked Victoria pressed against his left, and a naked mistress snoring in his ear to the right. The vampire’s playful hands gently caressed the lovely women’s curves, and a contented smile gleamed on his face. A creature like Alucard didn’t require sleep, so while everyone around him slept, he relaxed, contemplating the frailty of existence and simultaneously monitoring his surroundings. The ancient vampire observed everything going on in the hotel and its surroundings, including the room of the silly little thing, whose communication artifact had begun to ring. Alucard took a closer look, once again admiring the ingenuity and resourcefulness of mortals.
– F*ck… Who can’t sleep… – The girl grumbled and, with her eyes closed, felt for the Miracle Phone on the nightstand. – Hello…
– Rigel! – A worried blonde, about the same age, looked at the young lady from the screen. – Something happened to Elvira!
– What?! – The green-eyed girl woke up immediately. – What do you mean?!
“The teacher kept us longer than usual today, and Elvira went to the common room alone.” The blonde started babbling. “I offered to accompany her, but she refused! Elvira promised to call me from the common room, but it’s already been half an hour! I’m trying to call her, but she’s not answering! I’ve already woken Crabbe and Goyle, but the castle is huge…”
“Got it,” the girl nodded. “Don’t panic, I’ll call you back soon.”
Alucard watched with interest as the young mistress jumped out of bed and began pacing the room. During this time, Rigel called her vassal several times, but she didn’t answer.
“Maybe we should ask Mia…” the girl muttered thoughtfully. “But if Elvira isn’t in the living room, that idiot will immediately run off to look for her. And maybe, or more likely, she’ll get into trouble… And we don’t need that… But we need to find Elvira…”
Alucard saw the glint in her green eyes and, cursing softly, vanished into the shadows, only to appear a moment later, fully dressed, next to the bed he’d just lain on. The ancient monster understood perfectly well what the silly little thing was up to. Sure, he could have sent her away or ignored her, but why upset the child?
“Alucard! Alucard!” The little mistress’s call sounded especially loud. “I really need help, urgently!”
The ancient vampire fastened his favorite winged cape and grinned wickedly, then, instead of his usual wide-brimmed hat, he donned the gift from his “adopted daughter.” Rigel called this obscenity a “Rastafarian cap.” The keeper adjusted the uncomfortable headdress and moved into the restless girl’s room.
“Yes, young lady.” The monster nodded politely and grinned from ear to ear. “Give me your orders…”
“I…” The girl trailed off, her eyes glazing over for a few seconds as she stared at the colorful cap on his head, but she pulled herself together. “Alucard, I need your help. Elvira is in trouble! Can you teleport to Hogwarts and help her? Or make sure she’s okay?”
“She’s alive, isn’t that enough?” The ancient monster had already received a response from one of its marks. “Miss Smith is breathing and her heart is beating.”
“Alucard, please…” The girl looked pleadingly at the guardian. “I’m really worried…”
“As you wish, young lady.” Alucard nodded and disappeared into the shadows. He was curious himself, and besides, at Hogwarts he could taste fresh children’s blood.
The distance from Paris to Scotland was considerable, so it took him only a few seconds to find himself within the castle walls. The vampire looked around contentedly and then vanished into the shadows again, only to find himself in one of the dark corridors, directly across from the foolish vassal of the Hellsing family. A naked girl sat on the cold floor, sobbing, her face buried in her dirty, bruised knees. The girl was truly hysterical and couldn’t see or hear anything around her.
“Hmm… Interesting…” Alucard was too lazy to calm the hysterical and wounded child, so he simply put the girl to sleep. “It’ll be faster this way…”
The vampire picked up the sleeping girl and placed her belongings in his shadow pocket. The monster inhaled the scent of the child’s body with relish and, with the nail of his left hand, made a cut on her neck, then sucked on the bleeding wound. The blood was clean and fresh, but the vampire controlled himself and, after several large gulps, pulled away. Licking his lips contentedly, he sealed the cut with a wave of his hand, completely healing the girl herself in the process; some of the wounds were truly serious. The Hellsing guardian’s eyes flashed scarlet and he moved to the girl’s bedroom to tuck the foolish girl into bed. Alucard felt no sympathy for the young vassal; she was to blame for what had happened and had gotten off easy.
The blood drenched the vampire, revealing a wealth of new, but completely useless, information. The monster wasn’t impressed by the girl’s ordeal; he’d done far more horrific things in the past, and this couldn’t even be called torture. But the Architect’s appearance pleased him; it had been a while since the creature had visited this world. If the mortals didn’t do anything, they’d be in for a surprise by dawn. But a bloody massacre of children’s corpses in Scotland was no longer his problem. The vampire looked thoughtfully at the sleeping child, though what child, Mother of Monsters? She was already twelve years old! Such people used to be married, though not always consensually, but that’s another matter.
“A little thing can get upset…” Alucard sighed sadly and, taking off his glove, placed his hand on Elvira’s head, grumbling as he did so: “Mortals have become so tender lately…”
In just a few minutes, the man adjusted the girl’s memories. He didn’t erase anything, only removed the emotional component and slightly “aged” the recent events. Elvira will feel like the attack happened several years ago, which should help.
Having finished, the vampire threw a blanket over Elvira and, licking his lips, examined the other sleeping girls; the scent of fresh blood beckoned him. Alucard had no intention of refusing such a generous feast, so with a wave of his hand, he lulled the room’s occupants deeper into sleep and began sampling.
Ten minutes later, the ancient vampire pulled away from the sweet blonde and healed the wound on her neck. It was his last and quite tasty, but nothing compared to the young mistress’s blood. Alucard looked thoughtfully at the door. This tower was full of children—a veritable smorgasbord! But in Paris, there was a little girl waiting for him, the one he’d promised to help. The vampire caught himself thinking that he’d somehow softened over the last century—perhaps due to Integra’s influence? Or perhaps he’d simply aged? Previously, if he’d found himself at Hogwarts, by morning the castle would have been nothing but bloodless corpses and ghouls, but now? With a heavy sigh, the pensive man faded into the shadows and found himself in the third-year girls’ dorm. A little waiting would do the young and impatient Rigel some good.
Only half an hour later, the satisfied monster, smiling from ear to ear, appeared before his young mistress.
– Well? – As soon as the vampire appeared in the room, the girl practically hung on the crook of his elbow. – Did you find Elvira?
“It’s all right. They tried to hurt your vassal, but she stood up for herself.” Alucard looked into the curious green eyes and realized they wouldn’t leave him alone. “In short, the three boys…”
In ten minutes, the vampire briefly recounted her vassal’s ordeal and watched the girl’s reaction with amusement. She was furious and was seriously considering heading to Hogwarts to bring bloody justice to the masses. Although, in her place, Alucard would have given the disobedient subordinate a thorough beating first and foremost for deciding to wander the dangerous castle alone.
“Young lady, there’s no need to worry so much.” The vampire settled more comfortably in his chair. “These young people are already dead; technically, they’re still alive, but the Architect has already begun the fusion process, and it’s irreversible.”
– And what will happen next? – The girl looked at the keeper with interest. – What kind of creature is this anyway?
“The Shadow Architect is an eternally hungry scavenging monster. Currently, it’s vulnerable to direct sunlight and high-level Light magic, but once it takes on a physical form, it will be extremely difficult to kill.” The vampire smirked. “This creature will kill and devour everyone it encounters. But you shouldn’t worry; Hogwarts probably wouldn’t allow that.”
– Or maybe… – Rigel looked at the Miraclephone. – Should I warn the girls?
“No need, they’re all fast asleep right now and will be able to answer you.” Alucard’s voice had a calming effect on the girl. “Now calm your blonde friend down and go to bed. Consider this my urgent request. You have a busy day tomorrow.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep…” the girl muttered when she finished talking to Diana.
“I’ll help.” The ancient monster looked his “daughter” in the eyes and deftly caught the quietly snoring body, then carefully laid it on the bed.
Alucard looked tenderly at the sleeping Rigel and, adjusting the blanket, vanished into the shadows, to be once again embraced by Victoria and Integra. The vampire didn’t care about Hogwarts or the Architect; everyone he cared about was now close by and completely safe.
***
Professor Prince was in a state of bliss: dead drunk and admiring the slender naked bodies of his drinking companions. Hooch was riding his cock furiously, and Trelawney was sitting on his face, his tongue caressing her crotch. The Divination professor’s love juices, mixed with the sherry the pervert was dousing herself with, dripped down the Potions Master’s lips and chin, making the taste quite pleasant. Severus had recently given up visiting Mama Ro, but quickly found a replacement in the form of two tireless witches. His hands were sliding over the women’s slender bodies and caressing their breasts, when suddenly a sharp pain pierced his mind. The young wizard realized that his three students were in mortal danger, and if he didn’t intervene, the castle would punish him.
– Mor-dred… – Zelvar threw off the insatiable nymphomaniacs and, turning over, quickly crawled towards the robe lying on the floor.
The prince frantically rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a vial of sobering potion. A minute later, the wizard was completely sober and cast an annoyed glance at the women, who were staring in disbelief at their lover.
– Seva, Ik, w-where are you going… – Sybil continued to caress herself between her legs. – We’ve only just begun…
The man silently threw his robe over himself and, without answering, ran to save his mentally retarded students.
“And Morgana with him…” Rolanda took a pair of long, smooth, oblong objects of a peculiar shape from the nightstand. “Sibi, come here…”
The Head of Slytherin heard the last words as he was leaving his cozy quarters. Once in the corridor, he ran as fast as he could. He sensed his students were about to die, and that couldn’t be allowed. Descending to the second floor, Severus nearly knocked over Lockhart, who rushed out to meet him. His colleague was also barefoot, wearing light-colored long johns and silver chainmail. The writer was very serious, clutching his wand until his knuckles turned white.
– First floor! – the Prince barked and ran down, – we’re almost there!
– Here! – Gilderoy rushed forward and knocked down the door with a spell. – Cover me!
Severus nodded and cast several powerful shields on himself and his colleague. The wizards burst into the abandoned classroom and were stunned by the sight before them. In the center of the room was a hideous, writhing mass of matte black, seemingly absorbing the surrounding light. Looking closer, Severus realized his students were inside the creature. The creature emitted a hideous wheeze and a dozen thick, matte-black tentacles shot toward the wizards. The prince involuntarily took a step back, and a powerful jet of flame erupted from his wand.
“Sol Lux Maxima!” Lockhart yelled, and the room filled with a blinding white light. “Mortis Raptimus! Sol Lux Maxima! Die, creature!”
The Potions Master didn’t lag behind, blindly pouring every spell he knew, even remembering a couple of Higher Light Magic spells. About ten minutes later, his vision returned and Severus saw a tense Lockhart. Then he looked at his students and barely suppressed the urge to vomit. The room was filled with the lingering stench of rotting flesh and decay. His students seemed to have merged into a single, disgusting organism, their skin deathly pale. The teenagers’ arms and legs protruded from every side, helplessly scraping the stone floor, while their gray heads, perched on a raised platform, emitted pitiful gurgling sounds. But what terrified the Master most were the unfortunates’ eyes; where the mirrors of the soul should have been, gaping black holes appeared, as if the Darkness itself were peering out from within.
– W-what was that? – The prince turned to Lockhart. – How could this happen?
“Shadow Architect,” the writer replied, “we were almost too late…”
– What do you mean?! We were almost late? – The Head of Slytherin looked at what had once been his students. – And what should we do with this?
“It would be more humane to finish him off, but that’s not for us to decide.” Gilderoy looked at his colleague. “Where’s Dumbledore?”
“In Zurich, today is the next meeting of the International Committee of the International Monetary Commission,” the Prince replied and nodded understandingly. “I’ll call you right now.”
“In the meantime, I’ll report what happened to the Department of Mysteries.” A translucent blue peacock flew from the writer’s wand. “Done.”
“What have you done?!” Severus yelled. “We can’t involve outsiders in Hogwarts affairs without the Headmaster’s permission.”
“I don’t care!” Lockhart began throwing various diagnostic spells at something. “There was a creature from beyond here, and we need to find out who caused the breach! The thing almost took on a physical form, you can’t even imagine WHAT those idiots summoned!”
“I’ll report everything to the headmaster,” the Potions Master hissed through his teeth. “And what should we do about it?”
“Incarceo Maxima!” The writer bound something with a thick chain and began transfiguring clothes for himself out of thin air. “I’ll go meet the Unspeakables, and you guard this. If it attacks, burn it with hellfire; anything else is unlikely to help.”
“Understood…” The Prince nodded and, after waiting for his colleague to leave, sent a Patronus to the director.
Left alone with the strange creature, the Potions Master began to think hard about how to extricate himself from the deep mess he’d found himself in thanks to three idiots. He didn’t even think about the Mudblood Smith, as a plan was beginning to form in his head. But he’d have to consult with Dumbledore; the old man didn’t need any unnecessary fuss or trouble either.
***
“Rigel, don’t worry, I’m fine.” My friend looked listlessly at me from the Miraclephone screen. “I just feel weak all over.”
“You’re not the only one…” A sleepy Hermione pushed Elvira away and yawned loudly. “I barely got out of bed, it’s the first time something like this has happened…”
The first thing I did when I opened my eyes was call my friends; they were just languidly getting ready for exercise. To my relief, Smith was feeling fine; Uncle Alik had pretty much dulled the memory of what had happened. At first, I wanted to thank the guardian for his help, but then I noticed the girls’ strange, unnatural pallor and listlessness.
“Take some blood-boosting medicine; someone was in our bedroom last night.” I looked at my friends seriously. “I don’t think I need to explain.”
– What a ba… Old sucker! – Hermione hissed, even Vasya jumped up in search of a relative. – Rhea, when are you going to shit in his slippers, mine is the left one!
– We’ll think of something. – I grinned back. – Christmas is just around the corner.
“And I’m grateful to him…” Elvira muttered. “I don’t know how I would have survived yesterday if it weren’t for him…”
“This won’t happen again!” I looked the girl firmly in the eyes. “If those bastards survived, I’ll kill them personally!”
“I doubt it,” Smith looked down. “What’s going to happen now… I’ve lost control and…”
– Nothing will happen! – Mia hugged the girl. – You’ll see!
“You were defending yourself, so you were within your rights!” I smiled at the girls. “Elvira, you’re under the Order’s protection, and the wizards will be afraid to accuse you of anything. Understood?!”
“Of course,” the girl perked up. “Rigel, be careful! Those three said this Sosoni promised to kill you! Maybe we shouldn’t risk it?”
“I have a personal score to settle with that scum.” I grinned angrily. “Don’t worry, I’ll chop off his head and preserve it in a glass jar, then display it in the Hogwarts trophy hall.”
– Agreed! – Mia smiled at me. – That’s it, it’s time for us to practice!
– Me too. – I waved my hand at the girls. – See you tonight! Tomorrow I’ll already be in the Empire!
– See you tomorrow!
After saying goodbye to my friends, I began my warm-up routine. No matter how brave I tried, I was still scared. I’d never been afraid of death before, and I’m still ready to meet the Creator, but perhaps it only last night that it dawned on me that I can’t die! So much depends on me now, from the well-being of my friends to the fate of the Order. I’m no longer just a girl; I’m a holy knight and the heir of Hellsing! At worst, I’ll admit defeat in a duel with Sosoni. Losing is shameful, of course, but I can survive it, unlike the Italian, heh-heh. I made arrangements with Walter in advance, and perhaps we’ll go out tonight.
Yes, I am very vindictive and cruel, and I am proud of it!
