Chapter 91
“Lavender, are you sure?” I looked at the blonde skeptically. “That sounds like complete nonsense. Didn’t the mediwitches have time to revive him?”
On Monday evening, after dinner, our entire large company gathered at the operational base to discuss the latest events over tea and snacks.
“Doubtfire told me so, and Dotson whispered to her, and she found out from Chamberlain that his father is an Auror and was on duty yesterday; their star was the first to arrive in Hogsmeade.” Brown pulled a serious face. “I even found out the Mediwitches’ conclusion!”
– Where from? – Hermione, sitting next to her, choked on her tea. – You haven’t even been to the hospital wing!
– Why? – Lavender looked at the curly-haired witch in confusion. – Anna Ramos was doing an internship at St. Mungo’s last night, you saw her, so tall and gap-toothed, ugh, to be like that. So, she’s a seventh-year Ravenclaw and dating Matlock, and he’s a distant relative of mine, they were even intimate! – The girl’s eyes lit up. – After lunch, Parv and I intercepted her in the gallery on the third floor and found out everything.
“And she told you everything right off the bat?” Mia looked at the blonde skeptically. “What about doctor-patient confidentiality? As far as I know, all Healers are sworn to secrecy…”
“Ramos isn’t a Healer yet, just a trainee! Healer Smethwick took her on as an apprentice last year. She’s certainly talented, but not in Healing,” Brown snorted with distaste. “She was on duty in the Magical Injuries Department and after her shift, she went into the master’s office to report, and he was asleep. Scrimgeour and Pris’s medical records were lying on his desk, and she ‘accidentally’ read them. There!”
“And she didn’t just tell me that; we actually exchanged some secret information,” Parvati said, looking solemn. “I was talking to Monkley recently, and she learned from Bulstrode that Marcus Flint has started dating Vega Black, and everyone knows how Ramos is pining for that big guy. We tried to console her, and she shared the news from St. Mungo’s.”
– And what did she tell you that was so important? – I leaned forward with interest. – Go ahead, spill the beans.
“Ramos was speaking in medical terms, so I wrote it all down just in case! Everything was just like it was said in that book.” Lavender lifted her nose proudly, then looked questioningly at Hermione and me. “By the way, do you know what a sphincter is?”
– I’ll tell you later… – I winked at the girl and reached for a cookie. – So what was written in the medical records?
“Right now!” The blonde gossip proudly pulled a garishly pink diary out of her bag and placed it on the table, first opening it to the right page.
With a satisfied smile , I accepted the report from my intelligence girlfriends, who might one day become investigators for the E.U.S.D. (Author’s note: Empire ‘s Department of Unity and Security ) or be recruited into the E.U.D. ( Eng . Foreign Intelligence Service ) of the British Empire. The thing is, back in the summer, Uncle Stephen, aka the Duke of Lancaster, aka the head of E.U.S.D., had asked me to write character references on all my friends and acquaintances in the magical world. People of his stature never do anything without reason, so a couple of days later, a detailed “everything about everyone” report landed on his desk. And at the end of August, he came to visit us and over dinner shared his interest in Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, saying the girls had great potential. I wasn’t going to miss out on such footage, so back in early September I “accidentally forgot” the UEBI investigator’s manual on my nightstand.
I don’t know what attracted the girls more: the huge “FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY” sign or the crest of one of the Empire’s most influential government agencies. Most likely, it was the latter, since the UEBI crest is two proud lions inside a gold ring, with a huge crown above them, all on a fucking hot pink background! It doesn’t matter. The fact is, Brown and Patil have read that textbook through and through several times, literally absorbing its contents, and now they give me a daily summary of the latest school news. Of course, there was still plenty of gossip and rumors in there, but I was pleased with the trend; I’ll have to slip them a couple more books after Christmas.
I pulled the pink diary closer and studied the beautiful, almost calligraphic handwriting. Our group hadn’t gathered for no reason—some kind of crazy shit had happened at Hogwarts or Hogsmeade yesterday, but no one really knew anything!
The seniors, returning from the magical village, were as surprised by the guards of law and order as the little ones left behind. Amidst the headmaster’s shouts, we were herded into the common rooms and wouldn’t be let out; dinner was even served in our dorms! To keep everyone quiet, a couple of Aurors were posted at the entrance—these brave fellows didn’t stand on ceremony, kicking any particularly curious ones back.
The next morning, the situation only worsened, as we weren’t allowed out of the common room until lunchtime. The house elves served breakfast plates right by the main fireplace, and classes were cancelled altogether! While we were sitting in Gryffindor Tower, silent Aurors periodically visited us and practically forcibly took older students away for interrogation. From the general hubbub and snatches of conversation, I was able to discern that someone had attacked Daphne Greengrass the previous day, and that something had happened to Scrimgeour and his “girlfriend” in Hogsmeade. But all of this sounded so delirious and unrealistic that I decided to wait for a report from my fellow scouts.
– What the… – With each line it was becoming increasingly difficult for me to hold back a satisfied smile. Could it really be that the curse Hermione and I had borne SUCH fruit?
And in the pink notebook the following was written:
The pathological condition was characterized by a complete disruption of the anatomical integrity of the anal sphincter, involving the deep layers and submucosa, leading to profuse internal bleeding. Toxic substances on the wooden object (a Quidditch bat) had anticoagulant properties (preventing blood clotting). The toxic effect was due to the resorption of varnish coating components through damaged tissue structures.
The clinical picture was complicated by hemorrhagic shock, septicemia, and toxic damage to internal organs, which was the immediate cause of the patient’s death. The traumatic impact was caused by an object identified as a wooden Quidditch bat, with a lacquer coating containing toxic components, as confirmed by a comprehensive medical examination involving a specialist from the Department of Mysteries.
The pathological diagnosis was confirmed by the results of a magomorphological study revealing combined damage and toxic effects on internal organs.
What is a sphincter???
Lester Scrimgeour (I understood almost nothing here)
The patient was admitted to the magical trauma department with severe rectal bleeding caused by multiple erosive lesions of the rectal mucosa and a ruptured anal sphincter. The nature of the injuries was magical in nature, while the method of infliction was physical, involving the insertion of a foreign object of natural origin (a penis) into the anus. Furthermore, a detailed examination revealed small fragments of an unknown wooden object in the rectum. Upon removal, these fragments were determined to be fragments of a magical concentrator (a wand/rod).
To treat physical injuries, traumatologists used Class B healing spells and healing potions from Kit #6. Thanks to the timely and qualified medical assistance, the patient’s physical health was fully restored. Upon reviving the patient, mental disorders and psychiatric issues were discovered, and a medical practitioner from the mental trauma treatment department was called in for consultation.
The patient’s examination revealed multiple psychiatric and mental disorders, namely homosexuality, paraphilia, sadism, and necrophilia. Furthermore, a sexual fixation on a specific person—the late Alan Preece—was confirmed. The patient exhibited excessive aggressiveness, caused by the inability to fulfill his sexual fantasies with the object of his sexual desire, leading to heightened nervous excitability and apparent obsession.
The cause of the illness remains to be determined, but initial testing revealed no evidence of love potions in the blood or any mental effects on the mind. An examination by the on-duty malefic sorcerer revealed no traces of curses in the patient’s aura. No history of brain trauma that could contribute to the development of these pathologies was found. The patient’s medical history, as well as that of his immediate family members, shows no signs of psychiatric disorders or other mental illnesses requiring sorcerer-medicinal treatment.
It is recommended to conduct additional psychodiagnostics with the involvement of a master mentalist to clarify the root causes of the identified disorders and the nature of the manifestations, and to determine the need for further therapeutic measures.
Due to the patient’s active aggression towards hospital staff, it was decided to place him in a solitary confinement room and assign a duty medic to him.
Taking into account the patient’s inclinations, by order of the head physician, the duty witch doctor was issued a chainmail shield ZhP-ZASHCH model 1789, to protect the anus from abuse by particularly violent, sexually preoccupied patients.
JP-ZASCH???
– So it turns out… – Mia rested her chin on my shoulder. – Scrimgeour took a Quidditch bat and fucked his friend to death?
“Yeah,” I barely kept myself from smiling. “And before that, he went crazy and stuck a magic wand up his ass.”
– Or maybe it was his friend who did it? – Hermione looked like a cat that had eaten too much sour cream.
– So that’s it! – Ron also read the entries in the diary and jumped up. – Percy told me yesterday that Scrimgeour had blood all over his thighs!
– And in more detail? – I, like the others, stared intently at the redhead. – And why didn’t you tell me before?
– So you didn’t ask… – Weasley scratched the back of his head and sat down. – Percy and Penelope rent a room in Madam Puddifoot’s cafe every weekend, it’s easier to teach the prefects the rules there, so he says. – The red-haired boy was embarrassed by everyone’s attention. – Last night, when they were leaving the room, they found the Aurors carrying a bloody Scrimgeour out of the next room. So, those sodomites were having fun there?!
“So it turns out,” I nodded in response. “Only one of them is now dead, and the other is in a special ward at St. Mungo’s.”
“And Morgana with them, the damned ones!” Ron reached for the cupcakes with a satisfied grin. “My father always said that all the troubles in the country were their fault! Those sodomites have taken almost every seat in the Wizengamot and are friends with the Minister of Magic.”
“That’s all interesting, of course, but what does Greengrass have to do with it?” Justin looked at me thoughtfully. “Which idiot would risk harming the Slytherin Snow Queen? Do you think these incidents could be connected?”
“Unlikely, more like a coincidence.” I took a sip of tea and looked at my friends. “Daphne was attacked at Hogwarts, when most of the older students were in Hogsmeade…”
“She was attacked just before dinner, when two-thirds of the older students had already returned to Hogwarts,” Elvira said thoughtfully. “I spoke to Diana this afternoon, and she said Daphne was drugged with the same stuff as Filch, only her body was carefully placed on the windowsill of the second-floor gallery.”
“Why is Greengrass still in the hospital wing?” Mia looked at the black-haired girl in confusion. “The caretaker was revived that same evening.”
“I don’t know, Diana was really angry, and since the master cancelled today’s class, she quickly ran off to the common room.” Smith lowered her head guiltily. “As I understand it, there was some kind of squabble within the Slytherins’ house…”
– A showdown?! Between slugs? – Weasley leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smile. – Great, maybe these snakes will kill each other.
“The big-nosed freak canceled classes?!” I also turned to the confused girl. “Why? Was he brewing potions for the hospital wing?”
“No.” Elvira shook her head. “When we entered the office, we saw the director and a few other people there. Diana said they were from the DMP. And then they quickly kicked us out into the hallway. I honestly don’t know anything else.”
– What nonsense… – I leaned back in my chair thoughtfully. – Although…
– What did you come up with? – Mia shook my shoulder, and everyone else stared at me curiously. – Don’t keep me in suspense!
– Filch said that the Prince quickly brewed an antidote for him. – I remembered a moment from the films – what if the mysterious villain robbed the Potions classroom?
“No, no way.” Ron’s voice was as confident as ever. “The Prince’s office is as secure as Gringotts—that’s a fact! The twins tried to break in seventeen times, and were caught every time. They even worked on a joint project with the ravens, but that failed too. It would take Merlin or Dumbledore to break into the greasy one’s defenses; he’s quite the paranoid one.”
– Or the Dark Lord… – I nodded thoughtfully.
“Why would He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named steal potion ingredients?” Weasley looked at me skeptically. “He’s a villain, sure, but that’s a bit of a petty crime for him. He has access to pureblood money, and with one order, Malfoy will buy the entire Slug and Jigger apothecary, staff included.”
“Weasley’s right.” Lavender looked at the red-haired boy with approval. “Most likely, the investigators questioned all the Heads of House, because someone attacked the heir of an ancient and noble family! It’s a heinous crime, punishable by life in Azkaban or a Dementor’s Kiss.”
“Well, yes, she’s a pureblood,” Hermione shook her head understandingly, “and if it were some Muggle-born in her place, no one would care.”
“So, what do we know so far?” I smiled, looking at my curious friends. “Yesterday, Scrimgeour and Pris completely lost it, and their relationship reached a new level. As a result, one killed the other in a very twisted way.” Everyone nodded in unison. “And meanwhile, someone attacked Daphne Greengrass. We don’t know what happened to her, but considering she’s still in the hospital wing, it can’t be good. The events happened around the same time, but they’re definitely not connected—that’s a fact.”
“Not necessarily.” Padma, who had remained silent throughout the conversation, joined in. “There was a heated discussion in the common room today, and many are convinced that it’s the Slytherin Horror curse.”
– What? – I stared at the Indian woman. – What do you mean?!
“Purebloods are afraid, just count them yourself.” The Raven House representative began counting off her fingers. “On the Hogwarts Express, someone nearly killed two purebloods, then three more were found beaten and maimed in the corridor, then three ended up in the dungeons of the Department of Mysteries, and yesterday, three were injured at once! Moreover, one of them died, the second is in a coma, and the third is at St. Mungo’s! More than a dozen pureblood students have died or been injured this year. Such a thing never happened even during the tyranny of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!”
While the girl was talking, I was thinking about how the Slytherin Horror Curse was actually a certain Rigel Hellsing and her crazed friends. It also occurred to me that wizards are incredibly cowardly; just a couple of corpses were enough to make purebloods tremble at every sound. No wonder they’re still afraid to even mention the name of the Scumbag. Next time we meet, before I kill him again, I’ll ask him how he managed to intimidate everyone so much. Let those pureblood cowards fear my name, too.
“The older students were discussing how the attacks began because there were so many mudbloods and half-bloods at Hogwarts this year. Such a large number of unworthy students angered the spirit of the Great Salazar, and he decided to punish the purebloods for allowing the school the Founders built for them to be desecrated.” Padma looked worriedly at Hermione and Elvira. “Those idiots seriously believe that if we kill or expel all the Muggle-borns and half-bloods from the school, the Slytherin Terror will subside and the attacks will cease.”
– Are you serious? – Hermione looked at the girl carefully. – Just let them try!
“This morning, Chang started collecting signatures to expel the Mudbloods from Hogwarts, but Crystal burned the parchment and sent the Chinese woman to the hospital wing.” Patil nodded sadly. “I dread to think what’s going on in Slytherin…”
“Fuck… And this is the faculty of smart guys…” I involuntarily made the famous “hand-to-face” gesture. “Friends, from now on, we won’t even go to the toilet alone! That’s an order! Only the Creator knows what else these frightened idiots can come up with. Padma, I’ll talk to Goldstein, from now on we’ll only leave the common room in his company, understood?”
“Okay.” The girl nodded accommodatingly. “I don’t want to go to the hospital wing, and I get along fine with Anthony.”
“That’s good, that’s wonderful.” I looked at my watch. “We still have an hour and a half, so I suggest we close this stupid topic and get some rest.”
“Now that’s a different story!” Justin clapped his hands and pulled a brightly colored box of Carcassonne (Author’s note: a board strategy game) out of his bag. “I’m on the Reds side!”
While the boys were sorting out their chips, I silently walked over to the window and stared at the stars; the sky was unusually clear today. If purebloods start attacking Muggle-borns en masse, I’ll have to intervene—that’s not even up for discussion! These so-called Muggle-borns are Hellsing’s future vassals and fighters. If I don’t help them now, I’ll expose the weakness of the Order and the Crown, which absolutely cannot be allowed. But how can I help if I can’t act directly? Legally, they’re all citizens of Wizarding Britain, and the Crown has no right to intervene, and I can’t stand up for everyone privately. Yeah, that’s a shame. And how happy will Mom be with this news!
– What are you thinking about? – Mia leaned on me from behind.
“About cowardly purebred bastards.” I turned around and smiled sadly. “We’ll have to break faces.”
“I’m all for it.” The girl grinned predatorily. “We’ll cripple five purebreds, and the rest will calm down right away. I’m more concerned about something else.”
– What?
“Why did the notebook’s owner attack Greengrass? It’s illogical.” The curly-haired witch looked me in the eye. “We read about that thing; its job is to quietly and unnoticed resurrect the base. Why did he attack a pureblood and make so much noise?”
– Maybe she saw something?
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to erase the memory?” The girl pulled a knuckle duster from her pocket and started fiddling with it. “He’s the Dark Lord, after all, and people like him are well versed in mental magic. Maybe he did it on purpose?”
– Tomorrow I’ll catch Malfoy and interrogate her thoroughly!
“That bastard won’t say anything for nothing,” Mia smiled sarcastically. “Sometimes I think he and Goldstein are related. Maybe we should use him as an intermediary?”
“No, I can handle it myself.” I smiled too and looked at my friends. “Play a board game or cross blades?”
“How about we shoot some guns?” The big guns fan’s eyes lit up. “They sent me some new explosive rounds for Nemesis.”
We bared our teeth in unison and ran toward the makeshift shooting range. We could always play board games, but the new ammunition needed to be tested immediately.
***
On a Friday evening, Mia and I stood in the fourth-floor gallery, admiring the splendor of the street through the huge window. Winter had finally fully taken hold, blanketing the area around the ancient castle in a thick layer of pure white snow. It seemed to be a hint to the students that the Christmas holidays were approaching. While winter in London is muddy and damp, here in the Scottish mountains it’s frosty, crisp, and, well, windy, but that’s a minor detail. Footsteps sounded nearby, and we turned to face a crowd of cheerful Gryffindors emerging from around the corner. The students nodded and continued on their way; no one had wandered Hogwarts alone for some time now. I noticed the protective artifacts around their necks and smiled at my small accomplishment.
The school week itself passed rather calmly, very, very tense, but without incident. This was all thanks to the Aurors and DMD investigators who roamed the castle until Thursday evening, unnerving both students and teachers with their actions. In the presence of law enforcement, the purebloods didn’t dare attack the Mudbloods and remained quiet. Quiet, really? There were whispers throughout the school about how it was time to purge Hogwarts of all filth and follow the teachings of the great Salazar Slytherin, but nothing came of it, and Gryffindor was partly to blame for that.
I’ve often been surprised by the rules that reign in my house: Gryffindors, for the most part, don’t care about your origins or blood status; personal strength and skill are far more important. If you can’t stand up for yourself, you’ll be ostracized and bullied, even if you’re a descendant of Merlin himself. The students of our house also had boundless respect for Dumbledore and knew full well that he was a half-blood, but, as I’ve already said, no one cared. The other houses probably knew it too, or at least that’s what I used to think.
Today, I once again doubted the sanity of some Ravenclaw students. Seriously, what kind of imbecile would you have to be to start loudly ranting in the castle’s central gallery, while a crowd of crazed Gryffindors walks past, about how it’s time to expel all the Mudbloods and half-bloods from the school? Our house is home to so many children whose families suffered at the hands of the Filth and his slaves, so the crazed lions reacted very strongly and not always appropriately to such racist remarks. Our thugs didn’t bother to figure out which of the ravens uttered this fine thought out loud and instead kicked the pants off everyone wearing a blue tie. That is, the entire small crowd of smart alecks. After such a demonstration, conversations about blood purity faded to whispers. Sometimes I’m really happy with my crazy house.
I also came up with an idea these days about how to help the descendants of mundanes, or Muggle-borns. My mother and I racked our brains for a long time, but it all came down to that stupid Treaty. The Order can’t directly intervene or influence the current situation, because, in fact, this whole mess is happening to citizens of another country, on its territory. However, I could act as a private individual while still adhering to all the laws of Wizarding Britain, and there was nothing there that prohibited charity. Now all Muggle-born students could buy protective artifacts from Goldstein at a 95% discount, and a small booklet on the basics of self-defense was included as a gift.
The idea was simple, but its implementation was incredibly nerve-wracking. I could barely restrain myself from strangling the greedy Jewish boy. It was obvious that my family would be paying for all these artifacts; they cost mere pennies, and this “charity event” wouldn’t have the slightest impact on our well-being. Anthony understood this perfectly well, but he smelled the profit and jacked up the price of the artifacts threefold, citing sharply increased demand and the increased costs of the Advanced Research Department. At first, I was taken aback by such impudence, and then the bargaining began—no, no, that’s right, BARGAINING. Goldstein wouldn’t budge a penny, insisting that my family would be spending public funds, not personal ones, and that they needed to be used properly. In response, I threw 1,000 pounds in his face and declared that if he mentioned any more corruption, I would have him punished for embezzlement. The Jewish boy started squealing about the arbitrary and oppressive government practices against small businesses, the exorbitant taxes and enormous production costs, and promised to complain to every authority. He screamed so loudly that his sidelocks shook and his yarmulke slipped sideways. In the end, after we’d lost our voices, the final price of the artifacts had only increased by a third of the initial price, and we were both pleased with the result. It turned out that the purebreds had also overwhelmed the boys with work, and the price hike was a necessary measure; the twins were already spending most of their nights in their lab.
“It’s time, otherwise we’ll be late.” My friend’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
“We’ll make it,” I grumbled in response and peeled myself away from the window. “She’ll wait a couple of minutes, nothing will happen to her.” We waited longer.
In fact, we were heading to meet a certain snarky blonde who turned out to be quite a challenge to catch, even with a working Wonderphone in her pocket. Special thanks go to Elvira for distributing this artifact; during one of our classes, she showed it to a Slytherin, and her eyes, as they say, lit up. Needless to say, having a Wonderphone is now a sign of status and wealth among purebloods, just like the first mobile phones among the new Russians in my past life. Purebloods have even come up with special cases and now carry these silver bricks in plain sight, like gypsies. Recently, there was even a funny incident: Potter, as usual, started loudly ranting about the Weasleys’ poverty, and Ron, in response, silently pulled out his Wonderphone from his pocket and called his sister. You should have seen the bespectacled man’s face; he himself didn’t have such an expensive and rare toy. Poor Garry has been silently and thoughtfully looking at the red-haired family for a couple of weeks now, probably thinking up new curse words.
Malfoy and I would run into each other during breaks and classes, but we couldn’t really sit down and talk; the Slytherin princess’s schedule was even more rigid than mine. Of course, we could have discussed everything over the Wonderphone, but we wanted a real, face-to-face conversation. So we agreed to meet on Friday afternoon in the library, where there were a few discreet tables.
Our heels clicking loudly, we quickly reached the abode of knowledge and, after looking around, hurried to the shelves filled with books on the history of magic. Binns never assigned homework, so this section was practically unpopular. If it weren’t for magic, the place would have long since been covered in cobwebs and a thick layer of dust. The Slytherins were already seated and even had parchments and textbooks laid out, probably for secrecy.
– Malfoy, Black, nice to see you. – I smiled and sat down at the table. – How are you?
– Better than some. – Diana grimaced slightly and nodded. – Hello, Hellsing, Granger.
Along with the parchments, I pulled the wiretap pyramid out of my bag and set it next to me, while Vega showered the entire area with various privacy charms. Now that’s what I call a serious approach.
– What did you want to talk about? – Malfoy made a bored face. – Or do you also believe in the Slytherin Horror?
“No, of course not, that’s complete nonsense.” I looked Diana in the eyes. “I’m more interested in why Greengrass is still in the hospital wing?”
“Because she’s sick,” the blonde snapped back. “Any more stupid questions?”
– But seriously, – I leaned forward a little. – Why don’t they give her an antidote, like Filch?
“Because it doesn’t exist!” Malfoy slammed her fist on the table. “And there’s nothing to brew it with! While everyone was at the Quidditch match, someone broke into the Master’s office and stole almost all of his ingredients!”
– What do you mean? – Hermione looked at the Slytherins in confusion. – What’s the problem with ordering new ones? Or did you run out of money?
“Someone’s lost their minds.” The blonde looked at Mia skeptically. “Think twice, Granger.”
– Maybe we can do without puzzles and riddles? – I looked at the girls impatiently. – What’s the problem?
“Mandrakes,” Vega answered quietly. “The Draught of Living Death they gave Greengrass had a few drops of mandrake juice from the Hogwarts greenhouses added to it, you understand?”
“Madame Sprout’s mandrakes are a unique variety,” Mia whispered, quoting a passage from the book. “They’re the best in the world, and their properties are many times superior to those of other varieties.”
“I didn’t even think about that…” I looked at Black thoughtfully. “What if we buy some of the ingredients back? The school has the buyers’ contacts, right? They couldn’t have spent it all in a few months, could they?”
“Madame Sprout’s plants are incredibly expensive, simply unaffordable for British potioneers and apothecaries, so the European Guild of Masters buys almost everything.” Vega chuckled sadly. “They ran out of stock by the end of September, or so they say.”
“And the other mandrakes are too weak.” Malfoy threw her quill on the table. “The teacher has already tried a dozen varieties, but all to no avail.”
– Will she have to lie around like this until May? – My friend even whistled. – Holy shit!
“That’s not the word.” Black nodded in response. “By the way, Rigel, most Slytherins are sensible and have common sense, but there are some individuals who believe all this nonsense about the Slytherin Horror. I’m trying to keep the house in line, but I can’t keep an eye on everyone. So warn your own, and be on your guard while things are quiet, but…”
– I see. – I nodded in response. – Thank you.
“Do you have any idea who could have gotten into the Prince’s office?” Hermione looked at the girls curiously.
“I’ll answer if you tell me what happened to Macmillan and his loser friends who attacked Smith.” A spark of interest appeared in Diana’s eyes. “Uncle Regulus did a good job of swearing all the witnesses, even the Teacher, to secrecy.”
– How should I know? – I decided to deny it. – Elvira was so exhausted that she simply passed out on the threshold of the bedroom and did not hear the Miraclephone.
“Girls, do I look like a fool?” Malfoy snorted skeptically. “I know for a fact that Smith has a talent for necromancy, and that there was a surge of death energy at the school that night.”
– Where from? – I looked at the Slytherins with interest.
“The teacher noticed that the poisons Elvira brewed were much stronger than mine, and I’ve been brewing potions since I was seven. Do you understand?” The girl smiled slyly. “For the same reason, she’s so bad at making healing potions and elixirs. Smith unwittingly imbues the potions with death energy.”
“We won’t tell anyone.” The head of Vega lit up slightly. “We’re genuinely interested!”
“I don’t really know anything myself.” After some hesitation, I decided to lift the veil of secrecy. “Those three bastards tied up and tortured Elvira, you know why.” The girls pursed their lips angrily. “She lost control and had some sort of magical surge, which resulted in the Shadow Architect peering into our world. When that thing appeared, Smith got scared and ran away, and don’t ask her about it, okay?”
“I always knew Elvira wasn’t so simple! And as for those bastards, they deserved it.” Diana opened her notebook with a satisfied smile and picked up a pen. “Shadow Architect. Hmm… I’ll look in the library later.”
“I’ll tell you anyway, but later.” Vega, pale, looked at her friend, then turned to me. “Rigel, if this happens again, then…”
“This won’t happen again.” I looked seriously into the worried, even slightly frightened blue eyes. “Smith is studying with a master of necromancy. Back then, she maintained control until the very end, but those bastards went too far.”
“Thank you, you’ve reassured me,” Black nodded nervously. “Well, now it’s our turn, Diana.”
“Why me?” The blonde feigned indignation, but calmed down under her older friend’s gaze. “Basically, we think it’s one of ours.”
– An interesting turn of events, but… – I added more skepticism to my voice, – for a Slytherin, he acts too “loudly” and stupidly.
“I disagree.” Malfoy smiled slyly. “You know perfectly well that not everyone in the faculty is happy with Black’s appointment as unofficial leader.” I nodded. “Well, it seems to me that this someone is plotting an assassination attempt on Vega and her entourage. Black cannot be killed or harmed in any way, but if she is taken out of the picture before the end of the year, the balance of power in the faculty will shift by then, and someone else will take the leadership position.”
– And Filch and Greengrass, – Mia began to take notes in her notebook, – is this just a rehearsal?
“Exactly.” Vega nodded reluctantly. “That bastard now knows for sure that we don’t have an antidote, and his victim will be in a coma until the end of May. Marcus won’t leave my side now.”
– Or maybe this is one of the crows’ experiments or a prank by our jokers? – I didn’t give up, everything was working out too smoothly. – Or something the badgers came up with.
“For the ravens, it’s too expensive and dangerous; those smartasses would never have interfered with the dean’s office.” Vega smiled thinly. “It doesn’t look like yours either—there was no shit or blood. And the badgers… They generally sit quietly and don’t interfere in the affairs of other faculties.”
“It makes sense…” I lowered my head tiredly, “but it’s still somehow difficult.”
“We have worse,” Malfoy smiled sadly. “Don’t forget, we are a house of schemers and intriguers.”
– Vega? – The massive figure of the Slytherin Quidditch captain appeared from around the corner. – Hellsing, Granger.
– Hello, Flint. – I nodded in greeting. – Leaving already?
“Yes, I still need to walk Malfoy to the dean’s office.” The brute nodded cheerfully. “You’ll have to excuse me.”
“Don’t apologize, you’re just in time.” Black rose from her seat and walked proudly toward her suitor. “Hellsing, Granger, see you later.”
“Bye-bye.” I said goodbye to the Slytherins and, after they left, practically lay down on my desk. “F*ck…”
– Riya, what’s wrong? – Milk chocolate colored eyes looked at me with concern.
“A plausible theory just surfaced that it’s not the Scumbag who’s attacking the students, but one of the regular students.” I glanced nervously at my friend. “So that means the shard is quietly and unobtrusively carrying out its programming! And I have absolutely no idea where to look for it! Maybe it’s already performed the resurrection ritual and is now getting ready to go home for the holidays to meet its new family?”
“That’s unlikely. He simply wouldn’t have had time to prepare and calculate everything.” Mia took my hand. “Should we go back to searching for the Chamber of Secrets or try to contact the basilisk? He should have remembered the face of the one who woke him up.”
“We can try, but only after Christmas.” I smiled tiredly in response. “There are just over two weeks left until the holidays, and we need to prepare for the exams at the academy.”
“You forgot about tests and exams at Hogwarts,” my friend grimaced. “And about the crowd of terrified pure-blood Nazis who blame people like me for all their troubles.”
“Well, we’re slowly reducing their population.” I smiled predatorily. “By the way, I found this interesting curse in a book on maleficism yesterday.”
– Tell me! – My friend’s eyes immediately lit up, and she forgot about all her current problems, just like me.
