Chapter 93
“Victoria, bring me the shepherd’s pie,” I said to the vampire with a cheerful smile.
– And the magic word? – The girl showed her sharp fangs. – I didn’t hear you.
– Please.
The girl rose theatrically from her seat, sighing loudly as she handed me the dish. In response, I took a piece of pie and stuck my tongue out at her. Mom chuckled cheerfully at our antics and saluted Alucard with her glass of red wine.
Christmas dinner was a quiet, family affair. We gathered in the dining room, enjoying delicious holiday dishes by the cozy crackling of logs in the huge fireplace. I told my family about my adventures at Hogwarts, my mother recalled her school days with a nostalgic smile, Victoria shared funny stories from her time in the police force, and Alucard smiled knowingly and watched us with a satisfied smile. Even Walter sat at the table with us, though we almost had to force him to sit. He resisted for a long time and only gave in after I declared I would stand next to him. What lengths won’t you go to create a cozy family atmosphere?
“Mistress, may I also have that delicious thing? ” Vasya, like a member of the family, sat on the next chair and ate from a separate plate. ” Or better yet, two.”
– Of course. – I put a couple more deviled eggs on his plate. – Just don’t burst.
“You put it down and move away! ” the snake snapped and swallowed the offered treat in one gulp. ” Scumbag.”
“Daughter, are you sure he can do that?” Mom watched Vasya with curiosity. “I don’t think snakes can do that.”
“He can do anything, he’s magical,” I chuckled in response. “And magical creatures are omnivores. Remember Woland? He even eats French fries with caramels and still flies.”
“Don’t compare me to that black-ass, ” Vasya grumbled. ” I’m the king of snakes, not some flying chicken.”
“I remember five hundred years ago, some vampire hunters came to my secluded estate in the Southern Carpathians…” The ancient monster spoke with a cheerful grin. “These worthless creatures had heard enough of stupid fairy tales and came to kill me, smeared in garlic and doused in holy water. And when I came out to them, they started praying and throwing bags of salt at me… You should have seen their faces when I pulled a silver cross and the Holy Scriptures out of my pocket.” Alucard burst into loud laughter.
– Well, fuck! – Vasya turned pale from the creepy laughter of the kind uncle and quickly darted under my dress.
“Uncle Alik,” I looked at the keeper with interest, even though the hairs all over my body were standing on end. “And what happened next?”
“I immediately tore off the head of the funniest one, then even preserved it in alcohol and kept it for a while in a large glass jar. His silly face entertained my guests for a long time. I played with the rest for about a day, and when I got bored…” The vampire drank a glass of red, viscous liquid. “They didn’t taste so great, except for one—the youngest one, whom I let go.”
– Why? – Mom tilted her head to the side. – Wait, not for that…
“Exactly, my lady. This youth brought me to his village.” The ancient vampire broke into a satisfied smile. “It was small, but there were many women and innocent children there.”
– Did you kill everyone? – That’s what I expected to hear.
“Of course, they were the first to come to my house. There’s a rule: if you go to kill, be prepared to die.” Alucard leaned back in his chair. “I drank from that young man last. As a reward for the treat, I nailed him to the gate and let him watch.”
“Master, all your stories are so dark, they could be written into children’s fairy tales.” Victoria looked disapprovingly at the satisfied monster. “I remember when I was sent to do an internship in Glasgow, we were once assigned to patrol…”
I listened to the funny and not-so-funny stories, but my gaze kept slipping to the thin brown folder on the edge of the table. On the expensive cardboard was written “Camilla Parker-Bowles” in blue ink, and there were also red stamps: “Copy” and “Top Secret!” Uncle Stephen kept his word, and shortly before dinner, a messenger brought me a package containing the file of a certain louse.
The Duke of Lancaster personally led the investigation, so the EBIS investigators worked very quickly and effectively. After Princess Diana was revived, she was carefully questioned, resulting in the initial round of suspects being identified, and four hours later, Camilla Parker-Bowles was arrested. This ugly woman was considered Lady Di’s best friend, and they had been friends since high school. During the search, several dozen vials of potions were found on this slut, including the Harlot’s Potion. Under the weight of the evidence, she cracked and began to talk, without even having to torture her.
It turns out that sweet Camilla had been jealous of Diana ever since high school, as her “best” friend was quite attractive and had many admirers. Moreover, our princess was not lacking in intelligence and manners, so Her Majesty approved of her relationship with Prince Charles. Despite everything, the girls continued to be friends, and Diana even introduced her to Colonel Andrew Parker-Bowles, a hero of the Imperial Air Force, a young aristocrat, and a friend of the royal family. Camilla quickly married him, but a “simple” noble title wasn’t enough for her, and she absolutely didn’t want to sit forever in the shadow of her “best” friend, so the bastard hatched a whole tactic.
Thanks to her high social standing, Camilla knew about the existence of the magical world and, through an intermediary, contacted the Potion Masters’ Guild. She had no Galleons, but the wizards gladly accepted jewelry and didn’t ask any questions. First, she bought poison and poisoned her own husband, to keep him out of her way and clear the way to her family fortune. After becoming a widow, she began flirting with Prince Charles, but he proved deaf and blind to her insinuations. This completely irritated Camilla, and she decided to take drastic action: she ordered the necessary potions and immediately set about eliminating her rival. She and Diana met frequently and enjoyed gossiping over tea. After the death of her “best friend,” the poisoner planned to marry Prince Charles and become queen. The bastard even managed to slip her “future husband” the first dose of a special love potion. In general, Diana’s friendship situation is sad.
Camilla’s plan was so simple and stupid that it had every chance of succeeding. Firstly, no one would have suspected her of being the culprit, as everyone knew of her long-standing friendship with the princess. Secondly, the type of potion and dosage were meticulously chosen, thanks to the intermediary. Besides, the bastard had access to the palace and could act freely. And thirdly, everyone knew that Diana’s friend was head over heels in love with Prince Charles and continued to flirt with him even after their wedding, so their marriage within a couple of years would have been no surprise. But this entire “brilliant” plan was thwarted—pardon me—by a girl allergic to the intoxicating marjoram.
Time was short, and I skimmed the contents of the folder, so I missed some details. But I do know that Camilla was placed overnight in Belmarsh—a brand-new prison built specifically for enemies of the Empire. She will be held there until her trial, and then executed, since the only punishment for attempting to assassinate a member of the royal family is death. Frankly, I don’t feel at all sorry for the woman who betrayed and attempted to kill her best friend, and a pregnant one at that. So Camilla fully deserved her sentence, the execution of which is scheduled for January 17th. Yes, Her Majesty was furious, and by the will of the reigning monarch, she has already set the execution date, so the trial will be held behind closed doors and in an expedited manner.
I was distracted from my thoughts about the envious fool by the sound of cheerful laughter at the table; Victoria had just finished telling her story. It might seem impolite, but I’d heard about that incident with the exhibitionist back in the summer and remembered well how the not-yet-vampire girl had taken the pervert’s bells by surprise. Imagining this, I laughed and looked at my loved ones with a warm smile. Today is Christmas, which means I need to put silly thoughts out of my head and enjoy good company.
The merry gatherings continued until midnight, and then we stepped out onto the snow-dusted terrace to admire the festive fireworks. This year, the London garrison had done a magnificent job, and the sky above the capital sparkled for about half an hour, no less spectacular than the magicians’ display in Paris. After the performance, we wished each other a Merry Christmas and, returning to the warmth, drained our glasses. The crystal flutes contained very different drinks, but in the dim light they all had the same deep burgundy hue. Mama savored red wine, the vampires sipped on something obvious, and Walter and I drank freshly squeezed pomegranate juice. As I drained my glass, I felt a familiar hand on my shoulder – Victoria had moved behind me.
– Sister, Merry Christmas to you. – The vampire leaned over and spoke cheerfully in my ear. – It’s a wonderful evening!
– And you. – I threw my head back and looked into his red eyes. – The party really was a success.
Returning my head to my previous position, I glanced once more at my dear relatives. Although the celebration was held in a quiet family circle, everyone was dressed for the occasion, even formally. Victoria wore a short, form-fitting black dress with a plunging neckline and a low cut thigh, revealing the elastic of a red thong. Alucard, true to form, sat in a maroon suit and white shirt. The pink tie with white polka dots seemed a bit out of place, but that was my gift. Even my mother had swapped her pantsuit for a chic, form-fitting black dress that perfectly accentuated her athletic figure. I adjusted the folds of my dress, also black. We hadn’t discussed this, honestly, our family just loves black and maroon tones.
“Sister, Walter and I have a gift for you,” Victoria continued to whisper conspiratorially. “We tried so hard, we searched so hard…”
– And what’s there? – I turned around and stared at the vampire with interest.
– A secret. – Victoria stuck her tongue out at me.
“Captain Seras doesn’t want to ruin the surprise,” the butler turned to me, barely moving the corners of his lips, and then looked at my mother. “Mistress?”
“Go ahead, I’m surprised you two managed to hold out until Christmas.” The woman chuckled cheerfully and saluted me with a glass of wine. “Rigel, Merry Christmas.”
– Thank you. – I looked at the conspirators in bewilderment and got up from the table. – Where should I go?
– Follow me! – Victoria grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the dungeons. – We’ve already prepared everything!
***
Alucard watched the dwarfed little thing leave the dining room with the butler and the policewoman (he’d probably never stop calling Victoria that). The ancient monster leaned back in his chair and gazed at his beautiful mistress. Her attire made him salivate involuntarily today. It wasn’t from hunger; he loved Integra with all his heart and was ready to destroy the world for her. Alas, his Mother wouldn’t let him die for anyone. The vampire once again appreciated her chiseled figure and took a sip of the fresh blood he’d drawn that night at the farm.
“And they call me a monster…” Alucard looked philosophically at the fire in the fireplace.
“It will help her put her past behind her.” Integra filled her glass almost to the brim. “You know very well what Rigel went through as a child.”
“Yes, the right to revenge is sacred.” The vampire appeared next to the lady, and their glasses touched with a melodic clink. “Merry Christmas, my beloved lady.”
“Merry Christmas, my beloved guardian.” Integra leaned forward, and they drank to each other.
***
We descended quickly to the lower, or prison, level of the dungeons, Victoria pulling me along like a tugboat, and Walter silently following behind. The corridor was wide and well-lit, but unheated, causing steam to rise from our noses and mouths with every exhalation. Our group stopped in front of one of the cells, and the butler, jingling a ring of keys, opened the heavy metal door. Beyond it was another, this one barred and made of cold iron—an additional security measure, so to speak. A magical lamp lit up in the cell, and I was able to carefully examine its occupant. It took a few moments for the realization to sink in, and my fists clenched until my knuckles turned white, sparks appearing in my hair.
Lying in a fetal position on a straw mattress in the corner of the cell was Marjorie Dursley! I didn’t immediately recognize her, as she had lost a significant amount of weight since our last encounter, and her light red hair was heavily grayed, but her hideous face remained unchanged. She wore only a thin, knee-length linen shirt, causing her to shiver with the cold. At our appearance, my dear aunt struggled to her feet and, swaying, approached the bars. It was difficult for the creature to stand, so she grabbed the iron bars with both hands and looked pleadingly at Victoria and me.
“Please let me out. I haven’t done anything wrong,” Marge began to wail, looking at me for some reason. “I shouldn’t be here. I promise I won’t report this to the police. Please, I just want to go home.” The woman slowly sank to her knees and began to cry.
“Young lady, this is Marjorie Dursley,” Walter said, ignoring the woman’s lamentations and turning to me. “In 1986, Vernon Dursley’s sister was sentenced to six years in prison for child abuse and failure to report. Unfortunately, the Evans Act wasn’t passed until five years later, and at the time, that was the maximum sentence for such crimes.”
“They let her out a couple of months ago.” Victoria smiled contentedly. “She went back to her farm, and I’ve been keeping an eye on her all this time, and then a couple of days ago I invited her over. Sister, you have no idea how much I wanted to wring her neck.”
– I repented! I served my time! – Overhearing our conversations, Marjorie screamed. – It’s not my fault! You have no right!
Our gazes met, and her pale blue eyes widened in horror. Sister Borov fell on her butt and, quickly moving her paws, crawled to the far corner of the cell. I haven’t forgotten how that creature hounded me with her bulldogs, how she laughed when one of her dogs bit my leg and tore chunks of flesh from me. I remember clearly how, bleeding, I climbed a tree and sat there all night. I was only four years old! Why?! What did I do to her?!
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then exhaled, continuing my breathing exercises, and turned on Occlumency to maximum. I needed to calm down, otherwise I’d just shoot this creature, which would be too humane. I’d never forgotten about Borov’s sister and planned to find her, but later, after I graduated from Hogwarts. And then such a gift, the best Christmas of my life! Opening my eyes, I nodded gratefully to Walter and Victoria and turned my gaze to my aunt.
“Poor right, everyone has that.” I sighed heavily and looked sympathetically at the woman. “Hello, Aunt Marge, remember me?”
To demonstrate, I lifted my right leg and, resting it against the bars separating us, lowered my black knee-high socks. The long sock hid the ugly scar from a laceration. I briefly admired this latest reminder of a difficult childhood and looked tenderly at the pale woman.
– You didn’t answer the question…
– YOU? – Marge’s voice trembled. – Rigel, is it really you?
– Wow, she even addressed me by name. – I chuckled cheerfully. – Need I remind you what you used to call me?
– It was a long time ago… I’ve changed… I’ve improved… – The woman fell to her knees and began to sob. – Rigel, forgive me… I’m guilty… I’m very guilty before you… Every day in prison I begged the Creator for forgiveness… He was deaf to me… I deserved…
I grimaced as I watched Aunt Marge sob. The creature repented so convincingly that if I were a kind and naive fool, I’d probably forgive her and let her go. But Aunt Marge was unlucky; I’m a cruel, vindictive bitch, so she’ll die a long, painful death. During our brief conversation, my empathy sensed only fear and regret, not a shred of remorse! I don’t know how to explain it, but I felt it with every fiber of my being: Marge only regretted being sent to prison! And right now, she didn’t want to die and was just putting on an act, but, as Stanislavsky said, “I don’t believe it!”
“Young lady,” I was distracted by the soft voice of my loyal butler. “Captain Seras and I anticipated your reaction to this meeting and prepared everything in advance.”
I turned toward my faithful butler and couldn’t help but smile—my family certainly knows how to surprise me. To my right stood a steel medical table, piled high with various torture instruments. I ran my fingers over the gleaming scalpels and clamps, then twirled a punching bag in my hands, but tossed it aside. A brilliant idea struck my bright mind, and I smiled tenderly as I looked at Aunt Marge. My gaze caused the woman to wet herself and try to press herself against the frost-covered stone wall.
– Walter, Victoria, where is the nearest shelter for homeless dogs?
***
The faithful butler of the Hellsing family watched the young lady with affection: the girl stood with a glass of pomegranate juice in her hands and watched with a satisfied smile as enraged stray dogs tore her screaming “relative” to pieces.
Walter was admittedly somewhat surprised by this request, as he had assumed the heiress would opt for more conventional methods and torture the woman until the end of the holidays. However, the girl devised a more original and sophisticated method of execution. The old assassin and the young vampire listened attentively to the young lady’s proposal and happily supported this initiative.
The estate had its own platoon of dog handlers, but why waste trained, purebred dogs on such an undertaking? So Victoria disappeared into the shadows, and within minutes, a dozen large stray dogs were whining in the dungeon corridor. The dogs were rather timid, and also dirty and smelly, but that didn’t stop Walter from placing them under Imperio and giving them just one order.
The mongrels growled viciously and burst into the cell. Marjorie let out a piercing shriek of pain and despair. The butler watched the young mistress with affection for a moment, then turned his attention to the justice being meted out. The woman lay in a pool of her own blood and excrement, barely resisting anymore. Her entire body was covered in jagged wounds, whole chunks of flesh were missing in places, and her face was practically gnawed off, but she was still breathing and wheezing weakly. The dogs, growling gutturally, devoured the steaming fresh meat without stopping, and the largest of them pulled a long, bloody intestine from the victim’s belly. Marjorie Dursley flinched and tried to restrain her rich inner world, but a smaller mongrel immediately grabbed her arm. Another dog, with a chomping sound, tore a large piece from the woman’s thigh and swallowed it with gusto.
The feast of the homeless animals lasted about twenty minutes—that’s how long Marjorie Dursley survived before her throat was torn out. The young mistress smiled at the bloody piece of meat that had once been her aunt, nodded to herself, and then drew her pistol. The girl fired ten well-aimed shots, and the cell fell silent, deathly silent. The butler nodded with satisfaction at the girl’s actions; after all, an animal that had tasted human flesh even once would certainly want more. Young Rigel had once again demonstrated her kindness and humanism.
“So which one of us is the freak now?” The girl spat in disgust and looked at her faithful assistants with a satisfied smile. “Walter, Victoria, thank you! This was the best Christmas present ever!”
“Always happy to be of service, young lady,” the butler nodded politely in response.
“You’re welcome, little sister!” Victoria found herself in front of Rigel and grabbed her into a tight hug. “Merry Christmas!”
– You too. – The girl kissed the vampire on the cheek and gently pulled away. – I suggest we go upstairs and have a little snack of festive strudel!
“I’m all for it!” Captain Seras clapped her hands cheerfully.
“Just a moment.” The butler cleared the cell of debris with a wave of his hand and nodded with satisfaction. “Now we can go, Victoria, young lady.”
Rigel began to hum a Christmas carol, and the trio briskly left the quiet and cold dungeon.
***
Noble pureblood wizards didn’t celebrate Muggle Christmas; they had their own holiday, Yule, the culmination of the Wheel of the Year rituals. However, centuries of interaction with Muggles had taken their toll, and the holiday customs had changed slightly. Wizards also began giving each other gifts and visiting. Over time, this developed into a tradition, and on Christmas morning, the Malfoy family estate was packed. The esteemed wizards laughed merrily, enjoyed expensive wines and exquisite snacks, and discussed the latest gossip and rumors.
A talented writer, holding a glass of expensive champagne, deftly maneuvered among the esteemed wizards and leisurely made his way toward a table where a small group of women had gathered. His destination was the beautiful wife of the manor’s owner, Narcissa Malfoy, who had invited him to this semi-formal event.
“Beautiful ladies, Gilderoy Lockhart at your service.” The man blinked dramatically and even rubbed his eyes. “I am blinded by your incomparable beauty! Lady Malfoy, Lady Black, Lady Greengrass, Lady Parkinson.”
The wizard bowed gallantly and kissed the air above the women’s outstretched hands in turn.
“Mr. Lockhart, nice to see you,” Narcissa smiled back. “Or should I address you as ‘Professor’?”
“As you prefer.” Lockhart chuckled softly. “But just call me by my first name. We went to Hogwarts at the same time and have known each other for a long time.”
“Gilderoy, when can we expect a new book?” Andromeda Black looked at the man with interest. “Or does teaching take up all your energy?”
“I’ll answer this in order,” Lockhart said, taking a sip of champagne and breaking into his signature smile. “My new novel will be ready this summer! Of course, school and research take up a huge amount of my time, but I never forget about creativity and write almost every day!”
“And what will the new book be about?” Lady Parkinson glanced at her. “Will you reveal the secret? Will it be another story about your heroic adventures in Europe?”
“A secret!” The man smiled cheerfully in response. “I’ll just say that it will be an adventure detective story with an unexpected and rather dark ending.”
“You intrigue me,” Lady Malfoy said, taking a sip from her glass.
“Gilderoy, while you’re here, let me ask you something,” Lady Greengrass looked at the wizard demandingly. “Are there any results on the search for the ‘prankster’ who attacked my daughter?”
“Um… Unfortunately, I don’t have all the information. Dumbledore has taken this matter under his personal control and isn’t allowing regular professors to participate in the investigation.” Lockhart began to justify himself. “Lady Greengrass, I’m very sorry this happened. If I had been there, then…”
“But you weren’t there!” the woman interrupted him rudely. “Like the rest of the teachers! Mordred-knows-what’s going on at Hogwarts, and here you are telling us about your new book! My daughter has been in a coma-like state for three weeks, and you do nothing!”
– What can I do? – The smile disappeared from the writer’s face. – I’m just a professor and I have to obey the director’s will, and this tyrant has nipped all my initiatives and proposals in the bud!
– For example? – Andromeda Black intervened in the conversation. – Share, maybe we can help you?
“Gilderoy, I hasten to remind you,” Narcissa proudly raised her chin, “that my husband is the head of the board of trustees and can directly influence the educational process.”
“The esteemed Lord Malfoy is a very busy man; politics and charity work take up a great deal of his time and energy, so I didn’t dare distract him from such important matters.” Lockhart lowered his head sheepishly, rubbing his hands contentedly in his mind. “But if you insist, I have a few ideas…”
“We are all paying attention, Professor.” Lady Parkinson, like the others, leaned forward slightly.
“Where should I begin…” The talented writer thought theatrically, and then pulled a thick notebook out of his pocket. “Lady, what do you think of the idea of resuming the dueling club?”
“Dueling was banned at Hogwarts for a reason,” Andromeda Black said, looking dubiously at the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. “It’s very dangerous.”
“I’ve thought of everything!” The man placed his notebook on the table and opened it to the relevant page. “I’ve compiled a list of safety measures and written a new set of rules. A healer and several teachers will also be on duty there at all times. And the club won’t be open every day.”
“What’s the point?” Malfoy quickly skimmed the text. “This looks more like a Defense of the Ancients elective than a dueling club.”
“Exactly!” The wizard beamed. “I don’t want students to needlessly hurt each other; my goal is to teach them self-defense! I want students to be able to stand up for themselves!”
– That makes sense… – Lady Parkinson thought. – My daughter often complains about being bored at school.
“If the students are more proficient in combat magic, then perhaps…” Lady Greengrass looked at her friends. “Next time, the mysterious ‘prankster’ will be swaddled, and I can feed him to the Dementors.”
“I understand you perfectly.” Lockhart nodded contentedly. “I promise I will teach your daughters conscientiously.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to Lucius today,” Narcissa smiled tightly. “I think he’ll support your initiative, and we’ll sort things out with Dumbledore.”
“You have no idea how grateful I am to you.” The wizard smiled so hard his cheeks hurt. “Perhaps you’d like to hear my other ideas while you’re at it?”
“Of course,” Andromeda Black answered for everyone. “We’re in no hurry, are we, girls?”
The sorceresses nodded in unison, and the talented writer turned to the next page. About half an hour later, the esteemed sorceresses regretted their decision, because Lockhart had so many ideas…
***
A man in a scarlet Auror robe walked briskly along the deserted Flower Alley, the snow crunching cheerfully beneath his polished boots. The Deputy Chief of the Auror Office was very sullen and thoughtful, and therefore completely ignored the rare passersby, even if they nodded politely. His destination was a tall, two-story mansion surrounded by an ornate wrought-iron fence.
Rufus Scrimgeour could, of course, have Apparated straight to the porch of his house, but he wanted to take a little walk and think. He opened the gate, winced once again at the creaking hinges, and promised himself once again that he would definitely oil them tomorrow. He strode across the small stone-paved courtyard, cleared of snow, but was in no hurry to enter the house. After standing on the stone porch for a couple of minutes, he exhaled and pushed open the wooden door.
In the clean and cozy hallway, he came face to face with his wife, who rushed out to greet him. Her fair hair was disheveled, and her once-beautiful, now gray and haggard face bore an expression of profound grief and loss.
– Rufus, he’s back again… – The woman couldn’t take it anymore and began to cry quietly.
– Mordred! – A magic wand appeared in the brave Auror’s hands. – Cecilia, why are you here?! Why don’t you stop him?
– I… I… – The woman spoke, swallowing tears. – I can’t see him like this… It’s beyond my strength…
“Go to the living room!” the wizard barked at his wife and hurried up to the second floor. “Wait for me there!”
Scrimgeour quickly climbed the stairs, then navigated a short corridor to his son’s room. He tugged at the brass handle, but the door was locked, so the Auror waved his wand, and the barrier shattered into a pile of splinters. Rufus entered the room and the sight that greeted him made him grind his teeth, his heart feeling like it was being squeezed in a vice.
Lester, his beloved and only son, was kneeling in the middle of the room, emitting disgusting, lustful moans as he thrust a long, oblong object into himself. His buttocks and thighs were covered in blood, but he paid no attention, continuing his obscene acts with a frenzied, furious fervor. The young wizard rolled his eyes in pleasure, his smile more befitting a mental patient, which he essentially was. The boy ignored his father’s appearance, and with each thrust, the oblong object sank deeper and deeper.
– Imperio! – The spell escaped Rufus’s wand, and his son’s eyes glazed over. – Lester, I’m sorry…
Obeying a mental command, the boy rose to his feet and then removed a long, oblong object from his anus. The inscription “Alan” was carved into its wooden surface. The man immediately destroyed this abomination, the sixth in a week, and then began treating his son. A few minutes later, the young man lay motionless on the bed, silently staring at the ceiling. Rufus sighed heavily, pulled a vial from his pocket, and poured the Draught of Living Death into the mouth of his only heir. Lester took a sip and instantly fell into a deep, restful sleep.
Rufus patted the boy on the head and quickly left the room without bothering to repair the door. Descending to the first floor, he headed to the living room, where his grief-stricken wife awaited him. She sat in a soft chair in front of the fireplace, staring blankly into the flames. Rufus shook his head, beckoned a bottle of firewhiskey, and, filling two glasses, approached her.
“Maybe we should have left Lester at St. Mungo’s?” His wife accepted the glass and took a small sip. “Maybe the mediwitches could…”
“No!” The Auror interrupted his wife and downed his firewhiskey. “My dear, you heard the Master Malefic very well. He said the curse is very dark and irreversible! This muck is so deeply woven into our son’s aura that it’s barely noticeable.”
“He also said the disease would get worse.” Tears welled up in the woman’s eyes, and she looked pitifully at her husband. “Rufus, I can’t stand this much longer…”
“Me too…” The wizard summoned the bottle and refilled his glass. “He is our only son, his birth was a miracle…”
Mrs. Scrimgeour broke down and burst into tears, while her husband gnashed his teeth in frustration. During the Wizarding War, they served together in the Aurors and fought shoulder to shoulder against the Death Eaters. During one skirmish, the feisty and restless woman was cursed with some family curse to make her infertile. Rufus then sent his wife to the continent, where German mediwitches performed a true miracle, and Cecilia was able to conceive. Lester’s birthday became a true celebration for them, and since he was an only and long-awaited child, the boy was always spoiled and never punished.
– I know, Cecilia… – The wizard also stared at the fireplace. – I know…
“We need to do something…” The woman continued to cry quietly. “Maybe there is a way…”
“I’ve come up with something,” the man leaned back in his chair. “I think you’ll back me up.”
– Should we send him to Europe for treatment?
“No, that doesn’t make sense,” Rufus shook his head. “Let’s hire a labor nurse.”
– What? – His wife turned around and looked at him with eyes wide with anger. – Are you going to…
– Not for me! Listen to me first, and then shout.
“You want…” The woman thought for a moment. “But what witch would agree to that? And Lester, will he be able to impregnate a woman?”
“Under Imperio, he can.” The wizard smiled sadly. “And as for the witch, we’ll buy a mudblood slave from Nott, who will bear and breastfeed our grandson.”
“Or grandchildren!” Cecilia’s eyes lit up. “Children’s laughter will ring out in this house again…”
“That’s possible.” Rufus relaxed a little, afraid that his wife would take such an idea with hostility.
“Only the Mudblood must be healthy and have good magical potential.” The woman jumped up from her chair. “We’ll need to thoroughly check her, just like her parents. What if those Muggles were alcoholics or pickpockets?!”
“We’ll choose the best Mudblood for our son,” the Auror said, putting his arm around his wife. “I’ve already made all the arrangements. True, I had to turn a blind eye to some of Nott’s dealings, but it was worth it.”
– Was it him you visited this morning?
– No, I went to visit that mudblood with whom Lester and Alan were having fun on the Hogwarts Express.
– For what?
– The Malefic Master was able to find out that our son was cursed in late August or early September of this year, so I wanted to check something.
– Is that her? – Anger appeared in the woman’s eyes. – You killed that bitch?!
“Cecilia, calm down, it definitely wasn’t her. Where did a little mudblood get such knowledge and skills?” Rufus held out his hands in a placating gesture. “The boys were badly beaten back then, remember?” The witch nodded. “My instinct tells me that’s when someone took their blood for the curse.”
– Did you find out anything?
“Unfortunately, no.” The Auror sighed heavily. “First, I gave her veritaserum, and then I looked through all her memories, but Mordred’s mudblood saw nothing.”
“It’s such a shame…” Cecilia sobbed again. “Whoever cursed our son is worse than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”
“I will definitely find the one who deprived us of our only son.” Rufus hugged his wife tightly. “I promise.”
“Just don’t kill me right away.” The woman looked her husband in the eyes. “I’ll personally cut out the heart of this sick, cruel creature…”
***
At that moment, the creature—the girl with bright green eyes—who had been overfed and lounging lazily on the couch in front of the TV, hiccupped. Rigel listened to herself, shrugged, grabbed another bowl of ice cream, and changed the channel.
Author’s note:
Dear readers, I also want to invite you to my Boost, where you can support me or subscribe to receive new chapters a little earlier.
The link is in my profile, in the “About Me” section.
